Cabin Fever

My woman’s intuition told me something bad would result from this trip. Brent, my husband, suddenly developed this need to commune with nature. Brenda didn’t want to go. We had to practically drag her to the station wagon. Phil and Carl, however, my twin fourteen-year-old boys, were eager to get out into the remote wilderness. Brent found the cabin and made the plans. I went along like a good wife.

Once at the cabin, light years from anywhere, my anxiety grew. No phone, no electricity, and having no toilet didn’t help. We weren’t there thirty minutes when five armed men burst in on us. They pushed Brent before them, bound and gaged. My heart sank. I clutched my kids to me and we huddled in a corner. We watched helplessly as they shoved Brent into a chair and bound him in place.

After securing Brent, the leader approached us with a leering grin. The others crowded around, snickering and laughing. The man holding the pistol waved it casually while addressing me. He said, “Lady, this ain’t your day. You see, we are bad desperados, and it looks like we’ll be holed up here together for a few days.”

I pleaded, “Please don’t hurt anyone.”

“We don’t plan to, but then that all depends on you. We have to lay low for a few days. You see, we just robbed a bank. If everybody stays cool and cooperates, nobody gets hurt. You guys can go about your little vacation, and we’ll move on. I’ll just say this once, though. If any of you tries anything, sneaks off, or pisses us off, your old man gets a bullet right between the eyes, understand?”

I nodded. He shouted, “I’m talking to all of you.” We all nodded. “Now, you guys go sit on that couch and let us have a little meeting. No talking.”
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Bewitched       John Stevens was the envy of every man he knew, because he slept nightly with a woman every man wanted to bed–his wife, Georgette.

They’d been together since high school, had the perfect marriage, and a house full of beautiful kids. They had six ranging in age from sixteen to six: Don, 16; Julie 14; Kay, 12; Roger, 12; Bobby, 10; Tabatha, 6.

Georgette was a mother and a great mother, a full-time mother. John made good money as a diesel mechanic at a large truck stop–a trucking megaplex on eighty acres where two major interstate highways crossed. This secure and stable job enabled Georgette to devote her life to raising their large family. She’d be quick to tell you that “mother” is a career if it’s done right.

Georgette had the look men ogled with a growing erection. When she was in her twenties, she was a cross between Mary Tyler Moore’s character on the Dick Van Dyke Show, Laura Petry, and Samantha from Bewitched. In manner and demeanor, she carried herself like Laura Petry–a dancer with feminine grace who wore form-fitting pants and blouses almost as a uniform, though she looked more like Samantha Stevens: blond and built.

As she matured, and bowed to John’s insistence that she wear only skirts and dresses, she looked strikingly like the sexy witch, Samantha. It was little Bobby that first saw her as Sam.

When she playfully made her nose twitch exactly the way Sam did, she became Sam from then on.

When her little girl was born, the baby’s name was unanimously forced on her–Tabatha. By then, Samantha Stevens and Georgette Stevens could be mistaken for twin sisters. Everyone called her Sam. Only the kids called her, Mom, but when they spoke of her, it was Sam. Likewise, Georgette called her mother, Mom, but referred to her as Endora in the company of others. They were Sam and Endora to everyone except offspring.

If John had one complaint about Georgette, it was her stubborn refusal to join him with a group of swingers he knew from work. The swingers were the white collar types with cushy jobs that involved no grease or busted knuckles. Getting a white shirt job was as easy as joining their swinging circle. Few grease monkeys were ever approached with an invitation, but John was approached weekly, and that was all due to his sexy wife.

Georgette was a frequent visitor to the truck center. While out doing her shopping, if she were nearby at lunch time, she’d stop and buy her husband a hot fast-food meal, then join him for lunch. After she’d stop by, John knew a white shirt would soon be along to corner him with more inducements. John was more than willing to share his sexy wife, and had done so many times in the past, but Georgette would not even discuss becoming a swinger.
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As she entered the conversation, woman1 said, “I just love it when I make love to my dog. He always acts so innocent, but then his instincts kick in, and he fucks me up good. His hot pink cock just rams my pussy with utter savageness. My boyfriend loves to watch me get fucked by him too. I love it how the dog struggles to stick his cock deep in his bitch like he’s not going to get another chance. His balls were flopping on my cunt as they work so hard to pump me full of animal semen. Oh! I explode when he rams his knot into my cunt, and ties with me. He holds the warm cock deep inside me as he comes, thus claiming me as his bitch. A river of come flows out of my pussy as he pulls out with a loud pop. He licks up all my pussy juices along with his own. He runs of in the corner to clean his dirty cock, and then twenty minutes later he’s back for more.”

Julie adds, “Me and my dog have fun times like that too. It’s great to have one. My dog’s a great Dane, and he has one of the biggest dog cocks I’ve seen. When he sticks that shit in my pussy, there’s no escape. I can only wait until loads of hot cumshots are shot into my belly.”

Woman2 replies, “Wow, that’s great. I love to have sex with my dog too, but have you tried a horse? They’re hung! Everyday, I walk out to my barn naked and wake up the horses. I go under their belly, and I start rubbing their enormous testicules. He quivers and neighs at the touch.

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