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She hated him. He was so big and black and when he looked at her his eyes seemed to burn like they belonged to some strange being from another dimension. When Shirley moved on the sofa, the dog’s ears perked and he stopped panting. She hated him. Almost as much as she hated Hal, the man who was laughing in the next room with her mother. She knew what Hal came over for.
“I hate you,” Shirley breathed, leaning forward a little so that the huge Doberman would know she meant him. He let his pink tongue slip out again. A droplet of saliva hung from it as he began to pant again. He sat on his haunches, watching, always watching. Shirley tried to read her magazine again. It was a true-confession story and she was just getting to the good part. The part where the girl was going to let her secret lover do what he’d been wanting to do, begging her to do. Though they never went into details, Shirley knew what happened and her imagination filled in the blanks between the lines.
As she read, her cunt had begun to throb. At first this throbbing was hardly noticeable, but now it was pulsing like a small bomb and the musky scent of excitement wafted up to her. She squirmed, rubbing her thighs together. Under her gown, she wore nothing. She’d taken to sleeping that way. It seemed to give her better dreams. Sexy dreams. Shirley liked sexy dreams, though they never ended as nicely as the stories in the dog-eared magazines she bought at half price at Ed’s book exchange.
Fictional reading for entertainment purposes only.