The Black Shepherd - Chapter 19
#19 of The Black Shepherd
Art by raventenebris
Note: "Adult content" may/may not be included within the specific chapter but applies to The Black Shepherd as a whole.
Chapter Nineteen
Tuesday July 22, 2008
7:39pm
"There."
Tongue lolling from his muzzle, Roger straightened over the garage workbench which held his most recent project.
It was nothing advanced--a four-foot floating shelf comprised of a frame and box, all sanded, finished and ready to install--but he felt quite happy with it.
The new shelf was just one item on a long-neglected to-do list: stain the back deck, tidy up the garage, install a new faucet and caulk the shower in the master bathroom--a lot to get to during a work week, but there was no better time to do it.
Roger tucked the shelf underneath an arm and hauled it from the stuffy garage up through the air-conditioned house.
"What's that, Dad?" Anessa asked, sat with her legs crossed at the couch when her father rounded the short flight of stairs between the TV room and upper hall.
"New shelf for your brother," said Roger.
"Oh."
"Why bother," quipped another voice--Bella at the computer. She had been showing much more presence around the house with her mother's absence. "Mom 'll just break that one too."
"Watch it, missy," Roger grunted, continuing into the hall, into his son's bedroom.
He was struck immediately by the scent of--
"Jesus," swore Roger, wishing that his son would at least make an effort to be discrete in his private affairs.
He shook his head and returned to the garage for his stud finder and drill, wondering just what his wife and son were up to.
* * *
7:46pm
"Oh, fuck," whimpered Patricia, muzzle smeared against the hotel shower's tile, tail jerked roughly aside. Something hard and smooth brushed her pussy, dipped lightly between her lips--she grit her teeth and waited for the impending impact.
The first forceful thrust propelled her entire body forward, and before she could comprehend it she was shoved to the wall again. She tried bracing herself with her paws, but another push drove her snout over a ridge of the ceramic tile.
"Fuck!" she yelled.
The shepherd behind her replied with another hard thrust and the firm paw which ground her muzzle against the wall.
The splendid canine cock, the crushing pressure, the infidelity of the moment and knowing that it was her eighteen-year-old son responsible for it all--Patricia let loose a voice of unrivaled, unbridled pleasure.
* * *
Wednesday July 23, 2008
3:12am
Patricia never slept easily, not even on the best of nights. Against flaccid pillows and clammy bedsheets, the forty-year-old mother fought for sleep. For reasons unknown, the nostalgic flavor tobacco wafted through her consciousness.
* * *
4:11am
Tyson wavered from dreams and dreamlessness 'til an involuntary jerk startled him awake, and as he sat up the young shepherd found the bed empty at his side. He rubbed at his eyes and groaned at the alarm clock on the nightstand, then scrambled sorely from the sheets.
His mother's sneakers had vanished from the entryway, her purse no longer sat at the chair.
What the fuck?
Uncertainty led to frustration, but after a trip to the bathroom and few minutes restlessly lain in bed, Tyson heard someone at the door, and his nose twitched as light spilled into the room.
He hadn't known his mother to have smoked since the day she'd proclaimed going cold turkey--and he was certain that day was at least ten years past, but as the box spring shifted and a nuzzle came at his bare chest it was the unmistakable aroma of cigarette interlaced with her normal, balmy essence.