Pussy Hound

The ladies came to the unavoidable conclusion that, although this crowded bar was full of attractive guys whom they would gladly take home on any other night, it was, sadly, bereft of Hounds. They departed dejectedly, realizing that this wouldn't be as easy as they had hoped.

Chapter 5

Faith and Brian had been work friends for years, the kind of work friend with whom you share increasingly intimate secrets: embarrassing personal episodes, petty insecurities that make you mildly ashamed, and, eventually, matters of sex. The evolution to sexual topics was entirely natural, never forced, just one of those things that, being on both of their minds so much, became an unavoidable part of conversation.

But now Faith felt uncomfortably self-conscious and she had no idea how to nudge the conversation in such an atypical direction. Sometimes, though, these things have a way of working themselves out, as if one's internal obsessions could somehow influence others along similar lines.

They were standing together at the vending machines one day, expressing their mutual frustration about not having a relationship, which inevitably led to confessions of extreme horniness, and its close cousin, masturbation. Trying to sound more casual than she felt, Faith offered how she had been laying on the couch after a nap one hot afternoon, trying to wake up, when her thoughts drifted carnally to a mutual acquaintance at the office. The object of her fantasizing was unquestionably handsome, broad-shouldered, and studly in a rock hard sort of way.

"Before I even realized what I was doing," Faith relayed, "my fingers had found their way inside my panties." She had Brian's full attention when she added, "I slid one slowly up my vagina, and in a few seconds of stroking, at first slow and gentle, and then really fast and rough, I had an amazing orgasm. I was soaking wet and limp as a noodle."

She looked at Brian expectantly, indicating with her fixed stare that she expected him to reciprocate with his own story of beating off. Faith's story had made him plenty hard and she could tell, so it wasn't that difficult for him to begin.

"Well, Faith, I fantasize about you when I masturbate," Brian said, keeping steady eye contact with her. He wasn't trying to make a move, exactly, but her ballsy story had given him the nerve to tell the unadorned truth.

"You do?" she asked, eyes wider. "Do I want to hear this?"

In fact, he fantasized about her all the time. In particular, he dreamed of pulling down her panties from under the short skirts she often wore and burying his face in her crotch. In his trance, she settles back, splays her legs wide, and pulls his head gently into her warm open flesh, making him hard as a board, until he explodes as he clutches and pulls and rubs himself. And that's exactly what Brian told Faith, to her considerable astonishment.

Faith looked astonished. "You beat off thinking about eating me? Most guys hate that!"

"I don't. I love it. Always have."

"That's unbelievable," she said. "And hot, if you don't mind me saying so." She was blushing uncontrollably.

Brian tried to help Faith over her evident embarrassment, which he shared completely. "Hey, I think it's hot, too. Don't forget, I'm the one who ends up with the spunk on his hand."

She responded to his sheepish smile with an expression of regret and no small measure of resentment. "God, most guys only want to get a blow job and then fuck. They never want to reciprocate with their mouths. If they give any head at all, it's real quick and you can tell they're only doing it because they think they have to."

"Hasn't any guy ever given you great head?"

"Not really. Not to the point that I could say I was really satisfied. Definitely nothing memorable or earth-shaking." She was clearly unhappy.

He tried to be sympathetic. "Faith, I'm sorry. That must be frustrating."

"You have no fucking idea. Guys love blow jobs but they hate to return the favor. Lots of women love to give blow jobs, but they like getting head as much as guys do. Look, I think I give outstanding head, lots of guys have told me that. I get really worked up and stay at it for as long as he wants. I use my hands, I suck their balls, I've even swallowed and let guys cum on my tits."

Brian was having trouble believing what he was hearing, which is not to say that he wasn't enjoying himself immensely.

"But when a guy goes down on me, I can always tell that he's not into it and is just waiting until he can fuck me." She was seriously upset now. "I like fucking, too, but I'd kill to find a guy who wanted to dive face first into my crotch and stay there until I had enough."

Brian didn't know what to say. "Um ..."

Faith looked at him intently. "Are you shitting me? Do you really like to eat pussy."

"More than anything." She knew he meant it.

"And you think about going down on me?"

"Uh huh. All the time." He couldn't keep from smiling stupidly.

Faith looked at Brian hard for a good long time, and then she reached a hand behind his neck and pulled him to her. She opened her mouth wide, delivered her tongue full into his waiting mouth, and filled him with hot breath and warm saliva. She took his hand, said "We'll see," and led him out to the parking lot to her SUV.

Faith didn't take her eyes off her friend as she unlocked the doors, climbed into the leather back seat and stretched out with her back against the door, she didn't take her eyes off him. She removed her shoes, and placed one foot on the floor and wedged the other one into the seatback. "Help yourself."

Brian was momentarily taken aback, but he managed to regroup and made himself comfortable. "All right, Stace. Here's the thing." She gave him her full attention. "I want you to let yourself go completely, to cum as much as you can and to have as many orgasms as you can. And don't even think about reciprocating in any way." He looked at her intently. "Understood?"

She nodded without saying anything, but shifted her hips involuntarily.

Brian placed a hand on each bare leg, soft, smooth, and brown, and slowly slid his palms up to her silken thighs, where they remained, exploring the delightful terrain. Faith squirmed and made a small guttural sound, but they kept their eyes fixed on each other.

His fingers slid slowly under the lacy edges of her pale blue panties, walked up the mound of her public bone, and lost themselves in her fulsome pubic hair.

God, he thought to himself, I love hairy bushes.

He played with her hair for a while, before brushing his thumbs lightly on both sides of the edges of her vagina and onto the sensitive plains of her inner thighs, slowly working his thumbs toward the center until they found wetness, all warm and slippery. He spread her pussy lips gently apart, and worked his thumbs up and down in parallel motion. She sat up to give him a deep, forceful kiss, before settling back down. The wet spot on her panties became noticeably darker. She closed her eyes and went inside herself.

With one thumb probing gently into her opening, the other found her clit, all swollen and exposed. He circled there very slowly, feeling its texture, resisting it gently, then plucking carefully, but insistently. They stayed that way for several long minutes, until Faith flooded the seat with her cum and her scent, undone, riding the wave, exhaling completely, consumed by the overwhelming sensations of spasm and release and the fluid of her cunt.

Orgasm number one.

Neither of them moved for several languorous minutes. Then, gripping the top of her panties from the inside with both hands, Brian gently but firmly pulled them down her long, smooth legs. She did not resist, but let her legs fall open wider, freed from their restraint. His hands returned to her inner thighs, stroking softly in parallel. As he lowered his head, she could not see him with closed eyes, but she knew what he was doing. And what he was going to do. She titled her pelvis toward him for maximum availability.

Her pussy was soaking wet, at once puffy and sodden. He placed the flat of his extended tongue between her cunt lips, and licked upward slowly, one time, before lifting his tongue from her body. Faith arched her back and moaned encouragingly.

Brian licked her again the same way, but this time traversed up to her clit, which he sucked and tongued deeply, slowly but with more urgency, with hunger, without ever removing his tongue from her clit. He lapped up her juice, inviting her to supply more, pressing against her pussy and her clit with his mouth and tongue and chin, entering her full opening, pressing his nose into her clit, which he drilled gently, at first, then more fiercely. She pulled his head into her crotch with real force, using both hands. Gripping her pelvis, he pulled her further into his mouth, covering his face with her cum, while she ground herself into him. Releasing his head, she cupped both breasts and squeezed them mercilessly through her gauzy shirt, before pinching her nipples hard.

Her flood was now abundant, and he sucked her clit harder, pulling it into his mouth, careful to make it hurt just a little. She needed more. "God," she begged, "don't ... stop ..."

"No chance," he told her. He renewed the assault, eating her fully, tongue inside her hole, then along the lips, then slobbering her clit, now flicking the button relentlessly, as she started to squirm, losing control. The sensations became overpowering, and she tried to push away. Brian held firmly to her hips, his tongue working very fast, feeling her reaction, finding her rhythm, advancing and retreating as her movements directed him, but never giving ground for long, maintaining intense focus on her response, probing, listening and feeling for her to guide him. His face danced with her cunt, giving as much friction as he could provide, pushing when she yielded, yielding when she pushed.

It quickly became too much for her. Sounds escaped, first moaning, then murmuring, and then expressing themselves fully, throaty noises of unbearable pleasure, spasms too strong to control. Faith grabbed his hair roughly, tossing his head as her hips lurched, not being able to stand anymore or to stop. His beard was soaked with cum and his mustache raked across her clit, as she bucked convulsively, barked out sharp pleading noises, shook fiercely, and fell back, spent and liquefied.

Orgasm number two.

Time passed, as Faith lay there limp and insensate, the side of Brian's head resting gently on her crotch. His lips and tongue were numb with feeling, full of delicious stink and completely marinated with sex. Occasionally, she rippled with an aftershock, as she slowly regained control of her breathing. Eventually, she opened one eye to look at him lazily as if to see if her were still there. She closed both eyes again, but pulled his face to hers, and swallowed him in a deep, long, gluttonous kiss, completely indifferent to the wonderful mess that covered his face.

"Oh . . . my . . . God," she breathed into his ear.

"You're welcome," he replied with a smile.

h

It is fair to say that Faith had confirmed the existence of at least one Hound and she was eager to pass the exciting results of her research along to her fellow sexual scientists. After her afternoon adventure with Brian, which left her drained and delirious, she needed some time to recover before she could call anyone.

"Sheryl, you will not believe what just happened to me." Twenty-five minutes later, the news was rebounding to each member of the Wine Club in turn. Faith demanded to know if Brian were available for hire or even for time-share. All the girls thought that that was an excellent idea, but in the interest of maintaining the integrity of the scientific method, they agreed they should try to replicate the results of the experiment with another male subject first. Repetitive sampling could come later.

Sheryl's reaction to Faith's success in the field was not exactly hostile, but she was afire with envy. Faith, after all, was a novice compared to Sheryl when it came to matters of sex; if Faith was being devoured by Hounds, goddamnit, Sheryl could accept no less. Ten men lusted after Sheryl for every one who looked twice at Faith, so why, Sheryl asked herself, should Hound-worship be different?

Sheryl thought she had a Hound candidate in mind. She had fucked Dennis more than once, and he gave better oral sex than just about any man she'd encountered. True, their times together had always evolved into intercourse, and Dennis became lost in space while screwing her just like every other guy she'd taken to bed. Perhaps, though, a Hound was just a guy who gave better head than average, someone who might be willing to think of eating pussy as an end in itself. So she made the call.

"Hi, Dennis, it's Sheryl. How've you been, handsome?"

They arranged for drinks at her place before going out to dinner, Sheryl having supreme confidence that the only thing Dennis would be hungry for would be her. He arrived at the appointed hour, already equipped, it seemed, with a large problem in his pants. Sheryl had a strong preference for big cocks, and Dennis filled the job requirements - and Sheryl's pussy - quite nicely.

She greeted him at the door dressed not like someone planning an evening out, but like someone who planned to curl up with a good book and a glass of wine for the evening. Her hair needed washing and brushing, her mid-calf skit was unstylish to the point of bland, and her skimpy tank top was wrinkled. She wore no makeup, but her luminous skin and naturally intoxicating eyes and lips made makeup superfluous. She was still an object of lust, of course, and her dishevelment only made Dennis want to see her naked even more.

Sheryl kissed Dennis distractedly and hugged him just enough to confirm his hardness. She returned to the couch and tucked her long legs underneath her, refilled her glass of red and poured one for him. He removed his jacket, loosened his tie, and sat down facing Sheryl, wine glass in hand.

"You look great," Sheryl said, smiling and taking him in. Her conversation with men was almost always calculated, but they were usually too drunk with the sight her to notice.

Her unexpected appearance had the intended effect, and seemed to catch Dennis off guard. "Thanks. Um, are we going out to dinner, Sher?"

"Oh, sure," she replied casually, "I'll take a quick shower and change into something more eye-catching." Sheryl had learned long ago that, when seducing a man, it was always advisable to make some reference to being naked. It never failed to plant the seed; she could see it in their eyes. "Let's just catch up for a while first." Taking her cue, and trying to relax despite her unexpected appearance and the visions of her wet and in the buff, Dennis leaned back into the couch and drank some wine.

"Are you seeing anyone these days?" she asked brashly. "Or just sleeping around?"

Dennis struggled to maintain his composure. "Neither, really. How about you?"

"Oh, you know me. I'm not seeing anyone, but I can't do without, so I guess I'm sleeping around." Sheryl let that sink in, before adding, almost as an afterthought, "I seem to be doing it more and enjoying it less, though."

Dennis finally got his bearings enough to ask, "Is that why you called me?" Now they were both playing the game.

"Well, Dennis, we have done well in bed together, haven't we? But fucking is starting to seem like the same old thing, you know?"

Dennis could not see where this was going. As soon as he'd arrived, Sheryl had started flirting shamelessly, but now she seemed to be throwing him off the scent. Did she want to get it on or not?

"Sheryl, I have no fucking idea what you're talking about."

"That's exactly what I'm talking about," she laughed, "no fucking! Here, let me show you."

Sheryl put down her glass and advanced on Dennis, engulfing him in her arms, introducing her tongue thickly and deeply into his mouth. Pressing her chest into his, she cupped his package assertively, feeling its size and hardness without reserve. As Dennis succumbed, his senses overwhelmed instantly, Sheryl deftly helped him out of his trousers, and smoothly took his sizeable tool in her mouth. He fell back while she worked on him, until she stopped sucking him with a noisy pop and leaned back to her end of the couch. She pulled her skirt up to her waist and brought her knees up and apart, showing the still-reeling Dennis her shaved and unpantied snatch.

Dennis knew what to do, and Sheryl gave herself and her cunt up to his eager gluttony. She threw her head back and wrapped both legs around his back, pulling his head commandingly into her slick pinkness. Sheryl's hips moved as vigorously as Dennis's head, and she directed his oral ministrations to her needs. Dennis ate her willingly, soaking his face, her thighs and the couch in a grateful, sticky mess.

As they continued on, Sheryl badly needed to squeeze her swelling breasts, so she removed her hands from her lover and pulled her tank top up roughly, which proved to be a mistake. Dennis sat bolt upright and reached in his jacket pocket for a condom, size extra large. Sheryl was stunned by the sudden loss of stimulation, and tried to grab his head and return it to its rightful place between her legs. Thinking she was raring to fuck - which was usually the case - Dennis misunderstood her intentions and hurriedly unrolled the rubber along his shaft and moved into position. His size and his hardness knocked her back off balance, and she found herself poised for entry, no turning back.

Sheryl's intense desire for unlimited oral was nowhere near sufficient to repel a strong man like Dennis whose impressive dick was halfway to home. She pulled him in the rest of the way and let him have his way. He fucked Sheryl just the way she liked it, hard and fast, deep and fast, fast and fast, and she rode it out as long as he could manage, which itself was quite impressive. The man had strength and stamina, and he applied himself energetically, his first fuck in more than a few months, as it turned out. The walls of her pussy began to contract and hold his prick tighter, but before her orgasm had time to gather real strength, Dennis unloaded every fluid ounce from his balls in several final thrusts before collapsing all of his 200 pounds on her lanky frame.

As Sheryl lay beneath him, gasping for breath under his weight, feeling for the most part well and truly fucked, the thought began to form that this was precisely the problem with intercourse. For men, it was the main course that never disappointed. If it was preceded by a blow job and briefly going down on the lady in return, so much the better.

But for women, there was never enough oral sex to make a whole, satisfying meal. It was just an appetizer, a mere morsel that left you hungry for much more that intercourse didn't always provide. As Bentley said, "for women, cunnilingus is a much more dependable pleasure." By any measure, she had just had an outstanding lay, about as good as any horny lass could ever desire. She even came in a reasonably-okay sort of way. Not the way she would if he ate her without stopping until she couldn't stand it anymore, which is what she had been hoping for. True, she hadn't sucked him off until he came, either, but she'd done that before, and even then he couldn't wait to slam deep inside her.

How could she slow down the freight train so she could take her time in the dining car? How could any woman?

Chapter 6

The Wine Club reconvened to compare notes and plan where to go from here. The glass, they agreed, was both half full and half empty (the wine glasses, however, were filled and refilled). On the one hand, Faith's outing with Brian had proved conclusively that there really was such a thing as Hound sex. On the other, Hound sex was hard to come by, as Sheryl and Stacey had shown, much to everyone's dismay.