0 comments/ 72170 views/ 1 favorites Phoebe & the Desert Coyotes By: eluckenbach The phone was ringing. It was so close to five that he thought about not answering, but instead he reached across the big mahogany desk and picked up the receiver. "Doug Zeitgeist," he said crisply. "Hey, Doug, Harold Bailey here." "Harold! Man, I haven't talked to you since you and Debbie split up. What's going on?" "I, uh, well, I heard about what you and Phoebe did down in Tucson last month." "Oh, man." Doug said after a long pause. "How did you hear about that?" "Well, just as luck would have it, the guy that picked her up was my nephew, Phillip." "Phil was her john?" "Yep. When he and my sister came up for my divorce party, he saw the picture of the four of us at the swingers resort in St. Martens, and he recognized Phoebe. You know, she is really easy to remember." "Yeah, I know. You, of all people, could not be shocked at our little game, so why are you calling?" "Hell, no. The only thing that shocked me was that Debbie and I didn't think of it years ago." "So, how is Deb now?" "She seems happy up in Seattle with her boy toy." "And you? How's the single life?" "Some good, some bad. Actually, that is why I called, Doug." "Why is that?" Well.... I was wondering if you would be willing to rent Phoebe to me for a night." "What? You're kidding, right?" "No, I'm not kidding, but let me tell you about it. You might find it interesting." "I'm listening." "I have a younger brother, named Billy, that you have never met. The family is kind of embarrassed about him, so he is never around. We were close when we were kids, but he never really grew up and took on any responsibilities." "Does he live here in Phoenix?" "Well, kind of. Actually he lives out in the Sonoran Desert somewhere between the White Canyon Wilderness and Florence. He never took a job in his life...just stays out there by himself. He comes to my house ever so often for a shower and clean clothes—shaves off all his hair and beard. He always leaves clean and comes back shaggy." "What does he do for money?" "My dad left all of us a little money, but he put Billy's in an endowment that sends him a small check every quarter. Just a few hundred bucks--not enough to live on, unless you pay no rent, have no car, no wife, no kids, and all that stuff." "That is kind of interesting, Harold, but what does it have to do with Phoebe?" "Well, the last time he came to town, Debbie had already taken off. I was loading him up with food and water, when we started talking about women, and he told me that he had only been laid once in his whole life! That was with some old whore in Nogales and he didn't like it--probably what made him a desert rat—anyway, that was nearly 20 years ago." "So you want Phoebe to give him his first lay in 20 years, right? How do you know he can even get it up?" "He can get it up alright. He told me that he jacks off 5 or 6 times a day. Everyday. Guess there's not much else for him to do." "So why not drive him down Van Buren Street? There's plenty of pussy for sale there." "Well, that brings me to the interesting part. Since he had no good experiences as a reference, I asked him what he thinks about when he jerks off. Instead of answering me, he started talking about his dog, which I've always thought was a different kind of dog 'cause it never barks, but I didn't know how different. Turns out this dog is half coyote. A few years ago, he had this big yellow mutt that he found walking down Route 85. When the bitch came in heat, the coyotes started coming around. The bitch was afraid of them, but her heat made her receptive, so she'd let them get up close enough to her to smell her, but when they tried to mount her, she'd turn on them. Since she was bigger, they couldn't get to her. "Billy didn't like the coyotes tearing up his camp, so he staked her out in a wash on a bright night and sat where he could watch. He told me that a big buck coyote came up to her and when he saw that she was staked on a short rope, he acted plumb nuts...rolled around and rubbed his face on the ground, stuck his nose in her ass, licked her pussy—I don't reckon you can call a dog's twat a pussy, can you? Anyway, he went on like that for a while, and when he finally mounted her, she didn't resist anymore. The buck fucked her pretty fast then set to yipping and howling, and got all the coyotes for miles around singing. He jumped her a couple more times that night. The last time they got stuck together, and since the bitch was bigger the buck's hind feet couldn't touch the ground. "Billy said he fell asleep and when he woke up the coyote was gone. The bitch had 5 pups and 3 of them died right away, and one died later. The dog he has now is the only one that lived, and he seems to be very healthy." "This is a very interesting story, Harold, but what does it have to do with Phoebe?" "It's Billy's fantasy, Doug. He wants to find a woman staked to a leash out in the wash, and he will be the buck coyote." Doug thought about that for a minute and felt his cock growing. "We might do something like that. Let me think about it. Maybe I should talk to Phoebe." "I think it would be better if you didn't tell her everything, Doug. That's why I asked to rent her for a night. It is a pretty strange scenario, but I think she'll enjoy it. I promise to bring her back without a scratch—good as new. Since you let her go with a stranger for $200, what I am asking is not such a big step. Just tell her that I am renting her for the night and that I am taking her to my brothers for a little party—just the three of us." "Maybe. I'll think about it. There has to be one condition, though, I get to watch." "Hmm. That will take some planning. It would be too complicated for Billy. Maybe I could arrange a spot where you could see what they're doing without anyone knowing you're there." OK. If you'll do that, I'll rent her to you for a night. How much are you willing to pay?" "A thousand dollars, and she stays all night." "That's a lot of money for something we would probably do for nothing." "I know, but the money is nothing to me, and I wanted Phoebe to feel like a high class hooker this time. Not like the cheap whore you had her pretend to be in Tucson." "That was her idea." "And also the money seals the deal. $1,000 for all night, Deal?" "When?" "Saturday after next is a full moon." "OK, but for sure I gotta be able to watch in case your brother gets crazy and tries to hurt her." "Billy would never hurt anybody, but I will agree so long as no one but me knows you are there. I'll meet you at your car in the parking garage in 15 minutes with the cash." --0— Doug didn't mention anything to Phoebe until the next Wednesday. Then all he told her was that he was planning a surprise for her on Saturday. "I hope it doesn't involve sex, cause my period started today." Thursday morning Doug called Harold to see if he wanted to postpone the date. Harold thought about it for a moment, and picturing the bitch in heat, decided that it was OK—even better. Besides, Doug thought, Phoebe has liked having sex during her period, except for the mess. Harold continued: "I went out to see Billy yesterday. We talked it over and came up with a plan. He will be camped out in the desert south of Florence Junction. You know the Tom Mix Memorial on highway 79? Well, he can be found a ways off from there. When we are set up, I'll let him know she is ready. By the way, I told him to stop jerking off until then so he'll be extra horny. "I'll pick up Phoebe Saturday afternoon at about four. Give us a head start then you come on out to the Tom Mix area, and park there. Walk south along the highway till you come to the little wash where old Tom wrecked his Cadillac, then drop down into the wash and go downstream until you get to where you see the little wash and the big Saltbush Wash merge. There's quite a bit of Mesquite, and Palo Verde growing around there, so it is pretty easy to see—but don't go up the Saltbush wash, because that's where we'll be. The banks are cut pretty steep there, so go up the south bank where the brush is thick and find a comfortable blind. You should be able to see way up the wash from there and I'll set Phoebe up in the middle of the wash, so you should be able to see everything. OK?" "I haven't been out that way since they built the Interstate, but I remember that area as being pretty wild," Doug said. "The city's growing out that way. But that is all Federal land, and not a park, so it will probably stay wild for a while. Most of the time Billy camps way off the road up toward the White Canyon Wilderness, but he keeps a little 'palapa' down by the highway where he stages supplies and water. I told him we would be near there." -0- "You're going to play like a high priced hooker this time," Doug said as he slowly spread out the ten $100 bills on the table that night. "Wow, who gave you that?" "Harold paid it for the pleasure of your company Saturday night. He wants you to party with him and his brother. I agreed, and he gave me the cash. Don't worry about your period. He considers that a bonus." Phoebe raised her eyebrows, and then said, "Do I get to dress up?" "Probably be better to wear something really casual that comes off easily." --0— Harold was on time when he picked up Phoebe in his new Hummer, which was already bashed and dirty. Doug marveled that anyone would pay sixty thousand dollars for something to crash around in the desert when an old pickup would work just as well. But Harold had the money and didn't give a damn about his stuff. He was in a race with the sun and fidgeted nervously until Phoebe was ready. She looked great, of course, but it was kind of funny that she would take so long and appear wearing so little—just a miniature top with spaghetti straps that barely covered her small but well formed breasts, a short denim skirt that emphasized her firm and tanned legs, and sandals with only a few tiny straps on her pretty little feet. It was late April and the days were nearly hot and the nights mild and dry. The desert was in full bloom from the winter rains. It promised to be another beautiful sunset with a few clouds scattered across the big sky. Harold would not notice any of it as he hurdled through the traffic and out of the city. The choreography would be spoiled if they were not in place to have the sunset lighting the scene. When Doug got to the Tom Mix rest area, the sun was low in the sky, but still retained plenty of desert intensity. He parked his Cadillac behind the picnic tables and the covered ramada at the edge of the paved parking area. He was facing an old barbed wire fence that had been climbed so many times that no strands were tight and the lower two were lying in the powdery path where so many feet had trod. He briefly considered going into the desert the same way, but on closer scrutiny he could see that the path didn't really pick up on the other side. It was no more than a commonly used access to the desert where travelers could quickly piss and return to their journey on one of Arizona's picturesque blue line highways. Instead, he followed Harold's instructions. But first he needed to check that he had packed all the necessities: a bottle of water and two beers in a six-pack cooler. He also had a small backpack with a poncho for ground cover, binoculars, a night visions scope, and his old Shofield .45 revolver with the seven and a half inch barrel. That barrel was always getting in the way, but he could generally hit what he was aiming at—long as it was not too far away. And whatever he hit got really messed up with those big slugs. He had been driving in his socks, so he pulled on his high-legged western boots and stepped out of the car. Feeling the pockets of his camo jacket to be sure he had his keys before locking the doors. His once blond hair had turned a brilliant white requiring a camo cap that he adjusted by pulling the bill low to his eyebrows, and then he turned south and walked toward the wash. The desert presented a formidable barrier of thorns and hostile flora struggling for the few extra drops of moisture that occasionally ran off the blacktop. So he skirted the edge of the park and walked next to the two-lane highway the short distance to the wash. There was not an actual bridge over the wash just a series of culverts, and the easiest way into the wash was to jump the five feet or so into the center of the dusty dry streambed. There was a time when Doug would have taken a flying leap over the edge, but now he considered whether or not the drop was too much, and ended up sitting on the edge of a culvert and scooting off. The bed at the downstream spout of the culvert was a collection of pebbles and coarse sand. He landed easily and adjusted his glasses before moving down stream toward the setting sun. In just a few minutes he was beyond any hint of civilization. He could no longer hear the highway or see any man-made structures. It had been years since he had walked in the desert, but he knew the dangers and moved cautiously. A half-mile or so down the wash the unmistakable wide tracks of a hummer appeared dropping down from a desert track into the center of the wash and disappearing into the distance. There was no dust in the air and no smell of diesel, so he figured to be more than a few minutes behind them. By the time Doug got to the convergence of the Saltbrush wash, he had long been able to see all the landmarks Harold had mentioned. Twenty yards before the Saltbrush wash he moved up the steep bank cut into the desert by the occasional flood. At the top of the bank he found a grove of Palo Verde heavy with green ripe bean pods. He knew that this offered pleasant shade in the daylight, but when night falls this grove will be the garden market for desert rodents that will come by the dozens—and with them will come the snakes that eat the rats and mice. Rattlesnakes are never a problem unless you get too close, and then they'll give you a good warning—most of the time. But for now it was a pleasant grove, and he pulled a few of the green pods from the lower branches and tasted their slight sweetness. There were only a few sounds: a desert wren in the distance, the soft breeze slipping through the branches, and the pleasant murmurs and giggles of a woman talking not too far away. He set the six-pack cooler and his pack in the shade--but not near the trunk of the largest Palo Verde where the ants were busy working. He picked a few of the plumpest bean pods, chewed them slowly enjoying and spitting out the fibrous cud that remained. The slightly bitter aftertaste was a pleasant blend with the quietly opened Pacifico beer. When the time seemed right he moved in a crouch toward the sound of his lovely Phoebe. He hadn't gone far when he spied Harold's Hummer across the Saltbrush wash in the shade of a pair of Desert Willows. It was no more than 50 yards across the small wash, and he could see them clearly. Harold was facing him. His thick black hair was combed straight back away from his bushy black eyebrows. His thick body was sitting uncomfortably on the ground in contrast to Phoebe's gracefully stretched body as she leaned against a picnic cooler. He could hear them as well—actually he heard Phoebe who, as usual, was talking while Harold said nothing. She was telling some story about Debbie. Harold probably wished she would shut up. Doug listened for a while then rolled onto his back to look at the desert vista. It was a pretty place Harold had chosen. The Saguaros were in bloom, and the banks of the wash were covered with bright yellow Brittlebush flowers dotted with red Desert Paintbrushes. But he knew that the desert's beauty was laced with thorns and poisons, and that care has to be taken with every step. He selected a position behind a series of Cholla cacti with its glowing fuzz of jumping thorns. There were flat padded Prickly Pears on either side with plump purple fruit. Clumps of still green desert grasses that were growing close to the ground obscured him from every direction except from his rear. He was satisfied that he would be able to see almost all the Saltbrush wash through a visual tunnel through the underbrush to the south--and yet not be seen by either of the players. Doug heard the clink of a wine bottle against a glass. He heard the tearing of paper. He heard Harold offer her something, which she enthusiastically accepted. Silence followed for a few minutes, then he heard her say, "I can feel it coming on now. Mmmm, I love this stuff." Doug faced the sun as it dropped into the Estrella Mountains and the sky erupted into its display of golden pinks, roses and purples. Phoebe's voice became a murmur like a distant brook while he looked into the sky and thought about how he and Phoebe came to be here. He called up memories of his first wife, who over the years of their marriage had managed to have sexual relations with almost all his friends and even some of his relatives before he found out about it. His rage of jealousy and betrayal ended their 20-year marriage—although now he understood her better. After a span of years of living alone, having many sexual partners, and observing the lives of his colleagues, Doug came to the conclusion that most people cheat, and that especially attractive people cheat the most. So if you want an attractive wife, you should expect her to continue to attract men. He had resolved that since his next wife would be pretty and attract other men, he would not try to stop the inevitable, but participate in it by actively sharing her with men that he selected. When he met Phoebe she was a young single mother. Although she was 30 she looked a frail and thin 25. She was more than 15 years younger than Doug, but she needed a protector. Doug knew that she had been unfaithful to her first husband, because he had been among those who had sampled her forbidden pleasures. And he had not kidded himself to think that she would always be faithful to him either. He knew that younger men would be hitting on her, and that even happily married people sometimes get bored or lonely. So early in their relationship, when he knew that he really loved her, she promised to obey him and let him do anything to her. His demand was simple: if she truly belonged to him, then she was his to share. With tears in her eyes, she said that she belonged to him, mind and body. He then began selecting, from time to time, those who would be allowed to give and take her pleasures. At that time Doug was 45, at the peak of his strength and power, and surging with lusty energy. Phoebe became the focus of his sexual energy, while Doug became Phoebe's fatherly protector whom she willingly obeyed and called him "Master" in their quiet bedroom fantasies. Now their attributes have reversed. She was now 45 at the peak of her vitality, while he was 60 and growing weaker. In the beginning Doug "kept" her in an apartment where he was a frequent visitor but when her child, grew older they moved into Doug's sprawling ranch house on the edge of the Superstition Mountains, and eventually they married. In time the sexual excitement began to wane with the familiarity of daily routine, and in search for stimulating adventure they visited a swingers club over in Phoenix. As the aging process took effect on Doug, Phoebe's lusty desires for sexual gratification continued to grow. With both their children grown, swinging gave them the action they needed--and strengthened their bond. Doug still had total access to Phoebe's charms, but he was less interested, and certainly had less energy to pump into her needing body. Many of their visits to the club has had Phoebe entertaining several men while Doug watched or strolled about the club's back rooms enjoying a cocktail and quiet conversation with other party goers. Watching Phoebe was vastly interesting to him, and when he took his turn—sometimes after they returned to their own bed—his enjoyment of her sopping wet pussy was heart pounding and breath taking. Phoebe & the Desert Coyotes They occasionally played games where he would send Phoebe to pick up strangers and let them use her and return to her husband to tell him all that she experienced. On one of those nights Phoebe dressed like a hooker and stood on an infamous Miracle Mile corner in Tucson waiting for men to entertain—one of whom was Harold's nephew, which led to the arrangement that brought all of them to this particular spot in the Sonoran Desert. Doug found that these wanton memories had caused a warm erection uncomfortably pressed against the harsh desert floor. He heard Harold say, "It's time now for me to let Billy know you're here. Are you ready?" "Yeah, I'm ready as I'm gonna' be," she said as she rose to her unsteady legs. "Oh, my knees are weak." "It'll be OK. You won't need much strength. Everything will be alright, I promise," Harold said soothingly as he led her out into the middle of the open wash. Doug laid still on his belly as they walked his way, then they turned in the upstream direction of the wash and walked to where a large root of a distant Mesquite tree had been uncovered by the flash flood that tore through this valley last summer. There he threw out a large plaid blanket over a patch of deep fine sand, and placed a bottle of water on the edge. He said something to her softly, and she began to remove her clothes. Her denim skirt fell to her feet, and her tiny little top came over her head, and suddenly she was nude. Harold took a collar from his pocket and strapped it around her slender neck. Then he took a braded lanyard no more than eight feet long and clipped it to the collar and tied the other end to the exposed root. He then coaxed her to her knees and to sit back on her heels. He told her to remove her tampon, which she did and tossed to the side of the wash. Harold then turned to the south and with fingers in his mouth he whistled four sharp and loud notes, three short and one long. He turned to her and said, Billy will be here in a few minutes, so I am going to leave. I will be back to get you before sunrise. Don't worry. Billy never hurt anyone in his life." "I'm not worried," Phoebe slurred, "I'm kind of excited, actually. It's way beyond anything I've done before." -0- While they were facing south, Doug moved quickly and quietly to retrieve his stuff. When he returned, he quietly unrolled the poncho, and stretched out, partially obscured by the large Jumping Cactus, in a prone position with the binoculars and the night vision scope next to him and the backpack with the 45 under his chest. He looked at his beautiful wife in the glow of sunset. She looked so small and vulnerable and he felt all the love he had for her. Her beauty was a big part of it, but it was more because of her willingness to try new things was an unrelenting spirit of adventure and a high-spirited love of life and all its senses. Tonight's little adventure was about the strangest, and he still had an uneasy feeling about it. He saw Phoebe turn her head and appeared to be watching something. He looked to see a huge full moon coming over the distant White Mountains. The sky to the east was as roseate as to the west from the glowing reflections from the rugged Superstition Mountains. And there was Phoebe, moon glow on her left and bronzed sunset on her right, staked helpless waiting for the unknown while the entire sky was filled with palettes of color a man could never describe. And Phoebe was glowing in the magic colors of the desert sunset. She never looked prettier he thought. She was lightly tanned; just enough to show her tan lines, which Doug thought made a sexy statement. To him tan lines made a woman look truly naked and vulnerable. Except for her waist being a little thicker and a little looseness beginning to show in her arms and breasts, she looked about the same as she had for the last ten years. If you were lucky enough to get close to her face, little lines could be seen, but no lifts or tucks will be necessary for several years. Leaning forward on her knees gave her the shape of a healthy and athletic woman when seen from behind. Doug's heart was filled with a mix of longing and sorrow. His love of Phoebe was mixed with his fear of weakness and guilt for his oppression of her. When he looked at her he wanted to possess her, but as he worshiped her body, his eyes looked beyond Phoebe and he caught a movement far up the dry wash. Lifting the binoculars he saw a large dog loping down the middle of the wash. Behind him came a man running. -0- Phoebe heard them before she saw them. She turned from her worship of the Moon to see the half-dog, golden in the sunset, stopped, ears erect, tail held in a high curl. Behind the dog a man was still running, but slowed. When he came next to the dog, he spoke softly and the dog sat. When the man took a step forward, the dog rose. But the man quickly wheeled and grabbed the nape of the half-dog, and put his face close to the dog's eye speaking low and guttural. The dog rolled on his back, and the man rose to his full height to view his brother's gift. Billy was close enough that Doug did not need the binoculars to see that he was lean and erect, burned bronze from years in the desert sun. He had no body fat. He wore nothing but some rust colored cut offs and thick sandals. It must have been four or five weeks since he visited Harold's because his hair and beard were all the same length of an inch or so. His body hair was bleached white, but his beard was red with blond or gray mustache that became a streak of white on each side of his mouth down to either side of his chin. His hair was a darker red and all standing straight up. His eyes were so blue; they looked white from this distance. Slowly Billy walked toward his waiting bitch in heat. Then he bent into a crouch with his face turned to her and began a slow circle. Doug could not see Phoebe's face or gage her reaction to him, but as Billy circled she turned her face to watch him without rising from her kneeling position. When Billy was behind her, she was looking at him over her shoulder, and Doug could see the familiar look of flirtation and availability. At that moment he felt more comfortable. When behind her, Billy stopped. He was breathing deeply. He was downwind of her. He moved toward her in the slowness of someone feeling his way through a minefield. He deliberately lifted each foot, paused in mid air and cautiously felt the sand before putting his weight down. When he got to the edge of the blanket, he dropped to his knees and crawled toward her back. She continued to watch with a smile and twinkling eyes. He put his face on the blanket and slid his body out straight trailing his nose next to her little feet and up to her knee, and then he rolled over to look up at her. She moved her hand to touch his face, and he sprang away like a cat. The movement was so quick that Phoebe withdrew her hand and gasped in surprise. Doug had never seen anyone move like that. Billy became much more animated. He jumped from the blanket and ran to each bank of the wash as though he were looking for something. His breathing was heavy, but he made no other sound. It seemed more like a ritual than an actual search. If he had really been looking he would have seen Doug. His senses were drenched with the smell of the bitch and his most primitive passions. He ran up to Phoebe, and standing over her, pushed her head down to her knees. She placed her hands gracefully in front of her. Billy touched her back and held his hand in place. Doug knew the smoothness he was feeling. To Phoebe his hand felt exactly like warm sand paper, heightening her sensitivity like a safe cracker sanding his fingertips. Billy stood and unbuttoned his cut offs and let them fall revealing his half hardened cock standing away from his body. He went behind Phoebe and she again turned to look over her shoulder. She was still sitting on her heels her body over her knees and her butt invitingly glowing in the dimming twilight. To Doug it appeared that he was going to mount her, and it would be over soon, but instead he lowered himself to smell her. He breathed deeply of her perfumes, of her skin, of her ass, and of her cunt. He drew closer with his breathing becoming deeper and louder until his face and beard were in contact with her body openings. He began licking her, and she tried to rise to a sitting position depriving him of access to her menstruating pussy, but he was faster and stronger. He pushed her back down, and placed his arms between her legs forced her open. He reached his arms around her back and held her immoveable while he devoured her swollen lips and clitoris. Phoebe didn't know how to react. She was in an inescapable position, and even though a man was licking her pussy, she felt not pleasure but discomfort. Doug could hear the liquid slurping as Billy smelled and licked his bitch, and he thought Phoebe would be enjoying this part. Billy stopped, released his hold on Phoebe, and facing the moon, he raised his arms above his head howled a deep throated cry to the Goddess of the Moon. Doug could see wet blood smeared across Billy's face and beard. Billy's cock was now fully engorged and stiff. Doug could see that Billy's cock was a good size, but he had the biggest balls he had ever seen. The wild man got behind his bitch again. This time it was certain that he intended to fuck her, and his cock was inside her in an instant. His strokes were never slow but quickness was followed by a blur of motion that ended with a sudden stop. Billy didn't breath at all for a moment then he made a deep sound that grew from his flat belly up to his open and upturned mouth. It was a sound that can only be spelled "ahhh", but it was a sound that didn't seem human. He shuddered and bucked his dick into her a few more times. When he withdrew, his semen pink with her blood flowed from her pink lips and down her thighs. From one ejaculation came so much. -0- When Billy stood he seemed a little unsteady on rubber legs, but when he looked at his work he drew a deep breath and howled again. This time his howl was more of a quavering very high-pitched cry separated with yips and whines. Doug has heard coyote howls all his life, and recognized that Billy has been living with the coyotes and listening to them so long that he howled in the local dialect. Sure enough, the sounds of distant members of the clan could be heard crying their mournful tunes. Half-dog took up the howling himself, but he howled more like a dog; deeper tone, more of an "ah-ooo" compared to the coyotes' "ai-eee". Phoebe rolled to her side holding her legs together and looked up at this strange wild man and listened to the wild chorus. Doug noticed that the howls were coming from three directions, two were far away, but one was not too far south—maybe in view of the two-legged buck and his rented bitch. He was not the only one to notice. The half-dog had risen from the sandy wash and turned to the south with his nose held high trying to catch a scent, but the source of the cry was down wind and his nostrils were filled instead with the pungent smells of human blood and semen. Dog's eyes are not especially keen, but the half-dog saw something. His body was stiff, each hair standing straight to make his considerable size appear greater. His ears were moving to pick up the slightest directional hint, and his tail was held in a high curl like an antenna tuned to the radiations of the wilderness. Doug could see nothing moving up the wash, but he noticed that Billy had stopped moving and was watching the dog intently while holding a finger to his lips. Phoebe pulled a corner of the blanket over her and watched Billy apparently unaware of the dog's alertness to the proximity of another. Doug reached for the monocular night scope and switched in on. As it started it produced an almost inaudible high-pitched whine. Doug was barely aware of the sound, but Doug could see in the moonlight that the dog had turned in his direction. Billy also turned. Doug did not move. Both dog and man stood motionless. The wait seemed endless, but another more natural sound broke the spell and all eyes were again drawn to the south. In the last of the dimming twilight, a light shadow could be seen along the shallow bank of the wash. With attention turned from him, Doug brought the 4X monocular night scope to his eye. The moonlight was almost too much light for the scope. In shades of green, the over-modulated shapes of Billy, Phoebe, the half-dog and a crouching coyote all fell within a single viewing angle. The coyote moved directly toward the half-dog with quick movements followed by slow. Its head and body not bobbing but flowing evenly as its thin legs and large paws carried it into the middle of the wash a few feet in front of its half cousin. The half-dog took slow steps on exaggeratedly stiff legs toward the crouching coyote. With his head held stiff and high, the half-dog appeared twice the size of the coyote. The coyote put its head on the sandy floor of the wash and when the half-dog lowered his head to smell its breath and tail, the coyote rolled on its back exposing its neck in the most vulnerable of all positions. Doug assumed this dominance had been earned and the salute and submission were practiced familiarity. He also assumed this to be a female, and smiled at the irony of seeing two bitches in heat in the same warm desert bed in the light of the ancient moon. When the half-dog tried to mount his submissive cousin, she suddenly lashed at him with her wide mouth and yipped sharply. The half-dog leaped agilely away and returned to her immediately, but she kept her body low to the ground, and the dog humped the dry night air. -0- The half-dog's half-wild man was more sure of his aim as he returned his attention to Phoebe. He lifted the blanket from her and looked at her slender body glowing in the moonlight that was so bright in the clear desert air that Doug lowered the night scope. This time Phoebe chose to reach out to the wild-man and pulled lightly on his never really soft cock. He swayed his back thrusting his pelvis toward her. She continued to stroke his growing member until it grew hard. She tightened her grip on his dick and pulled him toward her and down to the blanket. He started to move over her, but she guided him with practiced hands to lie on his back next to her. She straddled him at the length of her confining cord and rubbed her pussy on his chest coating his white body hair with blood and semen. Her movements were rhythmic and the strokes across his chest long and slow. With each motion she inched toward his face, and soon she was rubbing her pussy on his bearded face. His hands moved between her round butt and narrow back. His knees were bent and his penis pointed to the rising moon as he humped the dry desert night. Phoebe soon returned to collect her reward from Billy's waiting cock. She took him in her hand and guided him into her wet and bloody hole. He jerked spasmodically, but she held him still with a look, and began her slow ride of pleasure. Doug felt his own cock grow stiff beneath him. Even against the hard rocky soil, he pressed his weight on his penis and longed for the feeling of his wife's warm and hard cervix, which he knew Billy was feeling. Phoebe slowed and moved her hands from Billy's chest to her clit and the movements picked up speed. He remembered the coyote and half-dog, but when he looked through the scope again, he saw no animals other than the savage couple before him. Phoebe rocked faster and faster, Billy was starting to make groaning sounds when she erupted into an orgasm of fine intensity. It was something Doug had seen and heard before, but it was a rare occurrence of uncontrolled exhilaration. Billy was probably making no effort to hold back, but spurred by the bitch's spasms of pleasure he released another load into her. Phoebe leaned back on his cock pressing it into her organs and rested on her extended arms. Then she too let out a loud high-pitched howl that rang through the desert valley like wind. Billy joined in and the two of them howled and yipped for several minutes. When they stopped the distant and not so distant coyotes continued their chorus to the goddess of the moon. After a moment of listening some unseen revelation between them sent the coyote man and his bitch into waves of giggling laughter. -0- It seemed like an hour since Phoebe dropped down to Billy's chest. Doug had seen no movement. Perhaps they were sleeping. He was fighting sleep himself, then sometime in the night he caught Billy's shadow leaving to join the moonlit half-dog, and the two sprinted noiselessly up the wash and vanished. Even their faded emerald images could no longer be seen in the night scope; although the parts of Phoebe's form were intensely bright where she was not wrapped in the blanket. Doug waited a long time with the desert ground growing harder and more uncomfortable. Since Billy did not appear to be returning, he considered breaking the spell, getting Phoebe, and taking her home, when he heard the sound of shifting movement in the dried matter under the nearby prickly pears. He could see nothing with his eyes, so he turned the night scope toward the sound and saw dozens of glowing eyes scattered in and around the Palo Verde tree, and moving away from him toward the eyes of the desert rodents was the unmistakable form of a rattlesnake. He wondered how near it had been before he heard it. He put the scope aside and resolved to not allow Phoebe to remain alone in the desert filled with creatures of the night. As his eyes adjusted to the moon lit scene, a shadow moved across the wash and jumped her. Billy had come back for more. Doug envied the younger man's sexual energy and reservoirs of semen. He watched for a while, but there was little motion. Phoebe made a few soft moans. Otherwise there was silence. Doug reached for the night scope, looked first around his immediate vicinity, then he looked at the terrain between him and Phoebe, and then around Phoebe searching for glowing eyes--he noticed that Phoebe was alone again. So once more, he set the night scope aside and waited to see when Billy returned, or if he did not return, he would gather up his wife and her things to go home. But while he waited, sleep overcame him. -0- When the sun comes up in the desert, it doesn't warm up—It is instantly hot. Doug woke with a start and a deep sucking breath. He looked into the wash and there was no sign of Phoebe, the blanket, or her clothes. He stiffly got to his feet looking about for any sign of her or Billy, or Harold. He saw nothing but birds. With aching joints and sore neck, he went into the wash where he saw many poorly defined footprints in the soft sand. He went to the Desert Willow trees, there he saw where the Hummer had returned and left. He wondered how could he have slept through this much activity? He gathered his stuff and retraced his steps to the car. In the parking lot, not far from his own car was a BMW with an ASU sticker. He walked quietly to the car, but there was no one in it. He looked around, and seeing no one, he went home. -0- From the corner of his street he saw the oversized Hummer backing out of the driveway and speeding away. He parked in the garage and entered the house through the laundry room. He saw Phoebe's little clothes laced with burrs and grasses on top of the washing machine. He felt sand on the floor. He went to their bedroom, where he saw her sprawled across the bed still wrapped in the stained blanket from the wash. He touched her gently. She looked up with half opened eyes. "You OK?" he asked. "Yeah, Honey, I'm fine. But I am really tired." Phoebe & the Desert Coyotes "I'll let you sleep, but I want you to know that I didn't want you out there with him alone, so I hid in the bushes to watch and make sure you were OK." "I know," she said sleepily, "Harold told me you would be there." "Oh, well, it was supposed to be a secret, but I gotta tell you it was a really wild scene, and I got a strange enjoyment from it all. Old Billy really had a lot of juice, didn't he?" She looked at him. "Yeah, he did. It was very dream-like, scary and exciting. I got a kick out of it.... but...who were the other guys?" "Other guys?" Doug asked, " What other guys?" -0- Post Script: Monday morning Doug was on the phone to Harold's office. Janice answered and said that Harold had taken the Citation II down to the Cayman Islands for a meeting with his bankers. "Janice," Doug asked, "you've worked for Harold for almost twenty years. You know him pretty well, right? What can you tell me about his brother Billy?" "What are you talking about? Harold doesn't have a brother, just his step-sister down in Tucson." "Well, he said that the family doesn't talk about Billy, so you might not have heard anything...." "Doug, listen. Harold and I have been very close. Very, very close, even intimate--I have helped him with every legal matter that has crossed his desk. I have been with him drunk and sober. I held his hand all through his divorce from Debbie, and I can assure you that he has no brother." -End