Drunk Night with the Dog
By newsdater.
Duke was a gigantic shaggy Saint Bernard Sara, which I adopted from the Humane Society three months ago. He was nearly 200 pounds but sweet, intelligent, and well-trained. When we got him, he could sit, fetch, and bring the newspaper daily. Sara and I learned more about what he could do, and together, we thought up new tricks we might want to train him someday. The two of us wondered why someone would decide to get rid of such a great dog. I leave the car, grab Sara’s coat and purse, close the door, and return to our house. I stop and stand frozen in disbelief. Duke had pushed his way between my passed-out girlfriend’s open legs, his head lodged beneath her short black dress, and he was digging and licking noisily at her thong-covered crotch.
“Duke, no!” I shout.
He pulls quickly from beneath her dress, looks at me perplexed, and then walks away.
I could not believe what I had just seen. Duke was trying to get at my drunk girlfriend’s tasty pussy. I pick Sara off the sofa and carry her up the stairs to our bedroom, still in shock. I lay her across the bed and begin to pull her clothes off of her. I lift her dress off over her head, and she is lying in front of me in only her black bra and thong, her dark-tanned skin looking so sexy against our white bedsheets, her gold belly ring sparkling in the bellybutton of her flat-toned stomach. I unsnap the hooks to her bra, freeing her soft but firm 36c breasts. I reach down for her thong, still wet from Duke’s slobbery tongue, and pull them over her thick womanly hips, down her shapely legs, and off her delicate feet. My five-foot-four, 120-pound woman is now lying completely nude in front of me. I admire her perfect hourglass figure happily before I cover her in the blankets so she can sleep off her drunkenness. I remove the clothes I wore to the club, put on my robe, and head back downstairs to watch TV.
After a few hours of viewing HBO, I noticed I was getting tired. I stand, shut off the television with a yawn, and head up the stairs. I enter our bedroom and see Sara is not in our bed; the bedsheets and blankets are lying on the floor. I notice Duke sitting quietly by our bathroom door and can see the light coming from beneath it. “She must have gotten sick,” I say to myself. “Sara?” I shout out loud as I knock on the door. There is no answer. “Sara?” I speak again louder.
Still no answer, I slowly turn the knob and peek my head inside. There is my inebriated little girlfriend kneeling on the tile floor. Her upper half spread across our toilet head, hanging off the edge of the lid, her firm, round naked ass pointed right at me.
“Sara, are you ok?” I say to her, walking toward her.
She doesn’t respond. A slight snore rises from her face. I brush the hair affectionately off the side of her cheek. I can’t help but laugh at the fact that she has passed out across our bathroom toilet.
I look at Duke and see that he is behind Sara, his big, wet tongue swiping at her exposed backside. “No, Duke, bad boy!” I shout.
He looks up at me for a minute and then backs away from her rear end and stands in the doorway. I could see Sara sweating, beads of it appearing on her face. I head over to the linen closet at the back of the bathroom, grab a rag from the shelf, and wet it under the water faucet in the bathtub. I turn with the wet rag in hand and see that Duke is attempting to mount Sara’s sexy backside, her tiny female body nearly disappearing beneath his enormous canine body.
“Damnit, Duke, No!” I scream.
But Duke doesn’t listen to me this time. I ran towards him, preparing to yank him off my girlfriend’s back, repeatedly pulling at his collar, but his big paws held on to her waist, and at nearly 200 pounds, it wasn’t easy to move him. The realization of what I was watching hit me. I stopped the tugging and began to stare, fascinated, Duke with his hairy forearms wrapped tightly around Sara’s thin waist, his claws scratching her delicate skin. Duke began to hop back and forth on his rear legs. His growing penis had moved from its sheath and was jabbing at the air, looking to shove its way into a hole, any hole of Sara’s. He poked and prodded carelessly, stabbing into the soft flesh of her backside. Finally, he lowered his haunches and rammed himself forward aggressively, deep into her hole.
I heard the loud wet squish of his hard doggy penis sliding into her small hot pussy, I watched as Sara was shoved forward violently against the cool white toilet, and even in her drunken sleep, the force of the dog’s thrust caused her to grunt out loudly. An incoherent whimper falls from her mouth. Duke looked very trained at screwing a woman, and seeing all of this excited me so much that I opened my robe and began to rub my hard penis. Duke continued to pound away at Sara’s vagina powerfully. Our excited dog was mating with my unconscious girlfriend, his hips banging against her wobbling, quivering buttcheeks, making loud, painful-sounding slapping noises that filled the entire bathroom. With one final massive deep thrust forward, his humping stopped, and he stood motionless above my girlfriend’s body. Slimy doggy drool ran from his big, sloppy Saint Bernard’s mouth and splashed all over Sara’s firm, tanned back and into her lengthy hair. Streams of Sara’s drool fell from her intoxicated, unconscious lips and landed on the tile floor.
I look beneath their two bodies, still rubbing my hard dick, and see that Duke is still deeply wedged inside Sara’s body. I watched as he began to hop on his hind legs, then he lifted one of them up and over my girlfriend’s round buttcheeks. He was now standing butt-to-butt with Sara. I could see a round ball of his flesh wedged inside her stretched cunt. Duke stayed stuck in her for nearly 25 minutes, panting but not moving. Every so often, Sara would groan loudly in her sleep as if she had an intense dream. Duke began to get antsy. He started to walk forward, trying to pull himself free of Sara’s spread-out vagina. Her limp body began to slide slowly off of the toilet bowl. I grab her arm with my free hand to stop her from falling onto the floor. It was a tug-of-war between Duke and me over my passed-out girlfriend.
Duke was pulling his member firmly, yanking on the pink walls of her expanded pussy, it seemed like it was not wanting to let go, and then he jerked himself forward more violently than before. His cock ripped out of her with a big wet-sounding pop; Sara whimpers out loudly, her body tenses briefly, and a river of his runny, watery cum comes splashing out of her pussy like a flood, it all sounding like a bucket of water had been dumped onto the tile bathroom floor. For the first time, I can see Duke’s canine penis, cum still spraying from his nearly eight-inch long, swollen, red member. A ball of flesh larger than a tennis ball was at its base, but I could tell it was not nearly as soft or spongy as one. I start to cum. I grab the ceramic tank of the toilet and hold it tightly to stop myself from falling over. My balls tighten, and a warm sensation creeps up my body. My penis begins spasming and twitching, shooting its warm white fluid. I watch it spring across Sara’s arm and back into her long hair.
Duke was licking at her backside, cleaning up the mess he had just made. I could hear his large sloppy tongue swiping back and forth across her rosy buttocks, then digging its way into her used, swollen vagina. Sara continued to groan under her breath softly as his tongue traveled across her. Finally, he finished licking and walked proudly out of the bathroom, tail wagging behind him. I grabbed the still-damp rag and began to clean off my girlfriend, wiping my cum off of her arm and back. I sit down behind her flushed butt cheeks and look at her reddened vagina. I watch as drops of Duke’s cum continue to run down out of her stretched hole. I wipe at her pale, swollen lips with the rag and pull Duke’s damp, matted hair out of her crotch. When I thought she was cleaned well enough, I picked her up off the toilet and carried her back towards our bed, warm streams of Duke’s cum still running out of her vagina and onto my thighs and legs.
I cover Sara up, and we fall asleep together. As I sat in the kitchen drinking my coffee and reading the paper, I watched Sara as she headed delicately down the steps. She ambled and was a bit bow-legged, looking like she had just gotten done riding a horse. She sits her backside tenderly in one of the kitchen chairs and lets out a low whimper.
“Are you okay?” I ask her, looking at the bags under her eyes and clumps of her pasted-together hair.
“I am never drinking again. Everything hurts my head, hips, butt, and crotch are killing me,” she says.
“That’s odd,” I say, petting Duke’s head from beneath the table. “Duke sure has some nice tricks,” I say happily.
The End.
*This story has been edited by AI to fix spelling, formatting errors, punctuation, & basic grammar, but the narrative and plot have remained the same. Even with the limited editing done here, it doesn’t always mean a story’s narrative/plot flaws are fixed (That’s the author’s job). Also, AI can be inaccurate at times when editing grammar. The opinions/views expressed in this story (and in any comments) are those of the author and do not represent this site. We support freedom of speech. This story has been previously published on other free sites and is now public domain, which is why we can publish it here.