XXX-Fiction

CHAPTER 1: The Right Dog

‘I want a dog,’ the thought came out of nowhere while I was working on travel expense reports. My mind wandered from mind-numbing hotel and credit card receipts to our old dog Kenny. Kenny had been my parent’s dog, a Golden Retriever, a beautiful soul, and my playmate for hours and hours when I was little.

I had just moved out of home a few months ago and had a small apartment with my boyfriend. We were…well, I guess ‘happy’ is a bit too much, but ‘content’ could be the right word. Life was good. We both had jobs. He loved me, and I appreciated him. A dog. What was missing from our life—no, my life—was a dog.

I quickly looked up a few breeders and sellers in our town. The prices on their websites were, well, sobering. Then, I found a private-run animal shelter. Prices there seemed a lot more affordable. My initial thought had been to get a puppy. But a grown dog, not too old—that also sounded good. A dog that’s maybe already trained. A dog that could be my companion and my guard when I went for a late run to the 7-11 through the shadier parts of our town.

I called the number on their website, and a lady picked up after the 2nd ring. A hoarse voice. “Yeah?” I told her what I was looking for. “You can come any day. I’m usually here until 7 or 8.”

“Great, I’ll see if I can make it this evening or tomorrow. See you then.”

“See you then.”

I went back to my travel expenses and went through stacks of crumpled receipts, sorted out the ones that were obviously not related to travel, entered the straightforward ones into our system, and set aside a few to discuss with our HR guy.

I worked at a small start-up, and days there were mostly chaotic and relaxed, stressful and tranquil, loud and quiet, with just the click-click-click of a dozen keyboards audible through our large one-room studio office. I didn’t have any formal training, and I couldn’t even say what my real job description was. I just did everything that could distract software developers from developing software. What kind of software? Something fintech, something micro credits, and crypto. I really don’t know. Some devs tried to explain it to me, and I just nodded and said, “Cool.”

My only contribution to the thing they were working on: The initial name was ‘MiCrypt’ (for micro and crypto), and I casually mentioned that this sounded a lot like ‘my crypt.’ This was met with long stares and confused looks—and a week later, our product was called ‘BlockLoop.’ What did BlockLoop stand for? No idea, and I didn’t care. But I still felt that not having ‘my crypt’ on my resume was a good thing.

Technically, my job was 9-to-5, and I got paid for 9-to-5. But in reality, it was anything between 7 and 11 to 6, 7, or 8 at night. I did enjoy the freedom to come in late on some days when I had errands to run or just got stuck on my morning coffee. I wouldn’t say I liked evenings, though. I got most of my work done by 5. And every day, something super urgent came up, somebody ordered pizza or sushi, lots of yelling, furious typing, cursing—and suddenly it was 7 or 8. I just left while the devs were still at it.

I joined the start-up 14 months ago but hadn’t made any friends. The devs kept to themselves. All of them were friendly, and even though they communicated with each other using curse words and lots of ‘bro,’ they were always polite when asking me for help. Most of them were in their mid-twenties, and the dress code was… well, one could say “casual,” but ‘sandals, army shorts, and band shirts’ would describe it a lot better. I made a point of being well-dressed when I came to the office.

Nothing over the top, certainly not provocative. White blouse, black skirt, black shoes, no high heels. This somehow felt right to me. It took me some time to figure out that this is how Mom dressed when she was still working. I know that most of the devs liked to look at me.

At 23, I stood at 5’1, and I knew that even though I certainly wasn’t a knock-out, I had a nice body. Even a conservative blouse and skirt brought out more curves than some of the devs could handle. Almost all of them were between slightly and severely overweight, almost all of them had bad skin, and one or two had very strong body odor. I still liked them. None of them had ever made a move at me, said something inappropriate, or made me uncomfortable.

I wanted to be at the kennel between 6 and 7, so I made sure to finish the travel expenses before 5, cleaned up all the other things off my desk, and got ready to leave around 6. I noticed that the atmosphere in the office changed; it was calm and quiet around 5, and then things got more agitated. Don, the head of development, came over: “The cheque for the cloud service bounced… can you check what happened”? It took another hour to follow up on that, clear the cheque with the bank, notify the cloud provider that we had transferred the money, and so on. It was after 7 when I had finally cleaned up the whole mess.

I called the animal shelter lady and asked if she’d still be around if I came at 7:30ish.

“Oh, honey, I’m not sure. But you got the address, and the kennels are in front of the house. You can go and have a look. You know, when you find the right dog, your dog… you will know. You don’t need me to tell you.”

I said bye to the folks in the office, rushed to my car, sped out of the parking garage—and then was stuck in traffic for over half an hour. I made it to the shelter and looked at my phone. 8:07 pm. Damn. 9-to-5 had been another 9:30-to-7 today…

The shelter was a large, U-shaped compound on the outskirts of town. An ugly house that looked like it was cobbled together from half a dozen other ugly houses sat at the back of the property. Left and right of the driveway to the house were large kennels, like a row of garages on both sides. I could smell a very distinct odor… it smelled of dog shit, dog sweat, and dog food. It was not the nicest smell, but it did remind me of Kenny’s basket at my parent’s house. It did smell like this, just maybe a factor of 10 or 20 less than the blanket of dog air that engulfed the kennels.

On the left side, each kennel housed smaller dogs, 3 to 5 in each kennel. They barked excitedly when they saw me, wagged their little tails, and stood up against the netting wire. I wasn’t sure what kind of dog I wanted, but one thing I knew: a big one. Not a purse rat. So, I ignored the dogs on the left and inspected the right side. Slightly bigger dogs, the biggest was a Golden Retriever, just like Kenny. He looked old and hunched over, his fur pale and tattered.

Other dogs looked better (and younger), but none of them caught my eye. They were all mid-sized, most of them a mix of different breeds. If the “You will know when you find your dog” was right, I didn’t find it here, not even close. Maybe coming here had been a mistake. There’s a reason why real breeders charge more. This looked like the leftover bin at WalMart. I got goosebumps when I realized that this was a terrible thing to think, and I’m glad that there was nobody there I could’ve told such an insensitive thing.

It wasn’t the dogs’ fault that they were old. It wasn’t their fault that they didn’t look well-groomed. I couldn’t know what some of them had been through and how much they longed for a real home and not a dirty kennel, cramped together with other dogs and superficial chicks like me walking by and counting out, “You ugly, you ugly, you old and ugly….”

But even if that was a terrible thought, there was a kernel of truth to it: none of those dogs looked like the kind of companion (or guard) I was looking for. And there certainly wasn’t anything like a magical connection with any of those worn animals.

I let out a sigh and had to smile at all the trouble I had been going through to arrive at the shelter in time (and failed miserably at it). At the excitement I had felt when I stepped on the property. OK, it had been worth a try—next stop: a professional breeder, and who knew, maybe with a bit of haggling, I could get one I could afford.

I turned around, ready to leave, when I saw another kennel next to the house. It was much smaller than the long row of kennels along the driveway, roughly the size of two garages separated into three smaller compartments. ‘Might as well check out all of it,’ I thought and walked up to it. The first thing I noticed was that it didn’t smell as bad as the other kennels. There was a clean smell to it, even though the kennels themselves looked old and worn down. There was that musky dog smell but no smell of dog poop or piss. The second thing was hard to miss: a big sign about 10 feet in front of the kennels.

Beware Not for Sale—Danger

“OK, that sounds reassuring!”

I stepped a little closer but kept my distance from the kennels. There must be a reason for that sign—and finding out what kind of ‘Danger’ lurked there was probably not a good idea. The kennel in the middle housed a large German Shepherd. When I approached, he stood dead center and looked at me. He didn’t bark or growl. He just looked at me. I tilted my head to the side. He watched me and tilted his head to the side. I smiled and tilted my head to the other side. He tilted his head to the other side.

“When you find the right dog, your dog, you will know.”

Shit. There was no real way to describe it, but I felt… something. He held my gaze. His brown eyes looked kind and curious… he opened his mouth and licked his snout.

“Well, great, I have found my magical connection with a dog labeled as ‘Beware!’, ‘Danger,’… and not to forget, ‘Not for Sale.’”

I forced myself to look away. This felt like a major heartbreak. In the kennel to the left was a strange mix of… what? Pitbull and St. Bernard? Something like this. The dog was huge. It looked like a fat pig. He paced back and forth and looked at me. No barking, no growling. He was ugly but in a… I don’t know… cute kind of way. Everything about him seemed a little off, the short legs carrying his giant body, the long tail wagging not left and right but more like a crooked up and down. His eyes weren’t as kind as the German Shepard’s, but he didn’t look aggressive or mean… just mildly interested in this new guest. I looked at him and smiled. He sat down. Because of his short legs, he looked hunched over, and I had to smile.

I turned my head and looked at the right kennel. From where I was standing, I couldn’t see all of it. It seemed to be empty. I took two steps forward, making sure I was still outside any zone that could be referred to as “Beware” or “Danger.” Half of the right kennel was in shadow, and it seemed empty. I took another step forward. Now I was 3, maybe 4 feet away from the thick bars. Still outside the “Danger!” zone but closer than I was probably allowed to approach. There was a piece of dirty duct tape next to the kennel’s door handle, and it simply said ‘Kong.’ I smiled… I liked hyperbolic names for dogs.

I stared into the darkness and thought I saw a movement. But it was too high up to be a dog unless the occupant of the kennel was lying on a bunk bed or something. I heard a scraping sound, like paws on concrete, and then I saw two eyes. “This… this can’t be!” I thought. The eyes were level with mine, and I stood at 5 feet and one inch. The eyes closed and opened again… and out of the shows came the biggest Great Dane I had ever seen. He must’ve been on his hind legs when I saw his eyes… now that he was walking towards me, his eyes were at the height of my chest. I could see his muscles move under the thick, black fur.

“Hi, Kong,” I said, and he sat down and looked at me, motionless. On his hind legs, he was taller than me by a good 2 inches, maybe 3. “Where do they breed monsters like this?”

I had seen big dogs before, some scarily big ones, but never anything even remotely like this. Now I got what the ‘Danger’ sign was for. This beast looked like it could bite my head off. His mouth was open, and now I saw his teeth… this was insane. He had big fangs in his upper jaw, but his lower jaw… those things looked like the tusks of a wild boar. Is this some mutation? I vaguely remembered a Great Dane who lived down the street from my parent’s house.

He was huge, but probably merely half the size of this giant… and I was pretty sure that I remembered that he had, like, normal dog teeth. Not… this abomination. It looked scary. It looked wrong. Kong was still sitting 5 feet away from me; he didn’t move, and his eyes were… seizing me up. Maybe calculating if I would make just one big dinner or would last him a few days if he saved the stringy bits for last?

I shuddered. “OK, there was a definite connection with the first dog. There was something with the second dog… but this? This was just weird… and wrong… and terrifying.”

‘First dog… what’s his name?’ I thought and moved two steps back. Kong looked at me. He didn’t even blink. I looked at the door of the kennel in the middle. Another piece of duct tape, and in small, neat handwriting, ‘MacGyver.’

Now I really had to laugh. Can he build a key to his kennel from bones and straw? Speaking of keys… it seemed none of the doors had a real lock. Just round handles in the middle of a big iron plate. Round handle. Big plate around it… probably so the dogs can’t reach through the bars and press down a door handle. Smart and simple. This was laid on a stone plate in our office. Smart and simple.

“Hey, MacGyver!”

I winked at the big German Shepherd. Looking at him felt much more consoling than looking at Kong. MacGyver looked at me but didn’t really seem to react. Does he know his name? Or is this something they just assigned to him and never used because he was locked up in the ‘Beware! Danger’ kennel all day and night?

“MacGyver! MacGyver! Mac….”

On the last try, the dog’s ears stood up, and he tilted his head again. Can dogs smile? It seemed he did. And it was really, really difficult to look away from those big brown eyes. MacGyver stepped forward, close to the bars, and pressed his snout between two bars… I took a step towards him… he looked at me, ears and eyes following my motions. I stuck my hand out slowly… I could see that he couldn’t possibly move forward anymore, so my hand was safe. I brought it close to his nose, and he sniffed my hand and gave it a quick lick. His tongue was warm and wet, and I couldn’t really tell why this gave me goosebumps on my arm. MacGyver drew back and just stood there, his tail wagging and his head tilted just a little bit.

I said, “Mac, sit,” and he sat down. “Mac, up,” and he stood up. “Mac, sit.”

Now he tilted his head some more as if he wanted to say, ‘Now, can we please make up our minds about the sit or up stuff?’

“Damn. I like this dog. The lady was right. When it’s there, you know.”

‘Not for Sale’—we will see about this. ‘Beware! Danger!’—well, this was obviously for Kong and maybe the Pitbull/St. Bernard mix, but certainly not for this docile and gentle animal with such kind eyes. I had to force myself to look away because MacGyver’s eyes gave me a strange feeling… like a warm embrace on a cold winter night. Damn, this sounded so corny, so not me. But this was the first thing that came to my mind. A warm embrace. A companion. A guard.

The duct tape on the left kennel said ‘Gandhi.’ Now that’s… pretty damn fucking funny. ‘Beware! Danger! Gandhi!’ The fat dog paced back and forth on his short legs and looked at her.

“Hey, Gandhi.” He stopped. “Gandhi, sit!” He sat down. His long tongue was hanging from his mouth, and he waited for his next command. “Gandhi, up!” Nothing. “Gandhi, up!”

He just sat there. Well great. MacGyver barked, and Gandhi looked at him. MacGyver sat down and then stood up. Barked. Sat down and stood up. Barked. Gandhi stood up. MacGyver barked twice. ‘Amazing!’ I thought. Had this dog just taught another dog a command?

“Gandhi, sit!” Gandhi sat down. “Gandhi, up.” He stood up and wagged his tail. MacGyver barked twice. “Good boy, Gandhi.”

I moved closer and held up my hand. Gandhi sniffed it and then put his short, stubby snout into the palm of my hand. I caressed the soft fur and moved a little closer so I could move my hand up and down his neck. If he wanted to bite… well, it was now or never. But Gandhi just looked at me… his eyes weren’t as mesmerizing as MacGyver’s, but I did like that he looked a bit… demanding. More goosebumps. Why?

I decided to try my luck with Mr. Kong. I certainly wouldn’t let him sniff me or touch him. That dog could hurt me without even trying (or wanting to). Kong sat close to the bars, motionless as always. “Kong, up!” He didn’t move. “Kong, up!”

Nothing. And it didn’t seem like MacGyver wanted to lend a hand (or a bark). I sighed and turned away. Kong stood up. I turned back. Kong looked at me. Could dogs look defiant? If they could, Kong did.

“Kong, sit.” Kong stood motionless, closed his eyes, and opened them again. “Kong, sit!”

Eyes closed, opened. I turned away and walked towards MacGyver’s kennel… and then I looked back over my shoulder. Kong sat and looked straight ahead, away from me.

“You don’t like taking commands, right?” He didn’t look at me. “Well, guess what? I don’t like you either.”

I stood in front of MacGyver’s kennel. My eyes moved between him and the handle of the kennel door. ‘Now, this is a really bad idea,’ I thought. “Mac… back. Go back!” Mac looked at me, confused. He obviously didn’t know this command. “Mac, go back!” and I pointed my arm to the back of his kennel. He took a step backward. “Good boy! Go back!” I pointed again. Mac walked backward, holding my gaze. When his tail bumped into the wall, he stood still. “Mac, sit!” He sat down. I sighed. “This is such a bad idea…”

I turned the handle and opened the door to Mac’s kennel. Slowly. Mac tilted his head and perked up his ears. I took a look at the door. No handle on the inside. Well, of course not. I left the door open and walked towards Mac. I held both hands in front of me.

“Good boy… sit… I want to.”

I touched his head. Mac bent his head down and then moved it back up, rubbing against my hand… I used my other hand to ruffle the soft fur behind his ears. Mac still sat but moved his head towards me. I moved one hand down to his chest and let my fingers glide through the thick, gray fur. Mac gave my hand a quick lick and then looked back up at me.

“Good boy, Mac.”

Damn, this was it. This was my dog. Fuck ‘not for sale,’ I had just found my soulmate. I got down on my knees, cupping Mac’s big head between my hands. I looked at him and petted the sides of his long snout. Mac tried to give me a lick across my face, but I drew back in time.

“No, bad boy, no licking mommy!”

Mac looked at me and yawned. Even his breath smelled good. How can that be? I had loved my parent’s dog Kenny, but his dog breath was… well, dog breath. It stank. But Mac’s breath smelled fresh and musky. And warm. Goosebumps on both arms. I grabbed both sides of his strong neck and pulled him closer. Mac put his head on my shoulder, and I pressed against him.

I whispered into his ear, “You’re my dog, Mac,” and hugged him with both arms.

Then I heard a bang and a click behind me. The door to the kennel had fallen shut. Fuck.

*****

CHAPTER 2: Bonding Time

One hour later. I had fallen in love with my new dog. After trying to open the kennel door for 20 minutes, shouting, and rattling the door, I had given up. Mac had watched me the whole time and barked from time to time. I wasn’t afraid of him. If there ever was a good dog, it was him. I could feel it. And I could picture the embarrassing scene when the owner came back later tonight—or tomorrow—and found me locked inside a kennel clearly labeled ‘Beware! Not for Sale—Danger.’ There would have to be some explaining—but one thing I knew for sure: this was my dog now. I didn’t care if they wanted extra money or fine me or whatever. This was my dog now.

We played. And damn, it was fun. Mac didn’t know a lot of commands, but he was a quick learner. After not even an hour, he could lie on his back, stand up on his hind legs, and—our best trick—walk in an eight shape around my spread legs. I also took some time to pet Gandhi. The bars between the kennels were a bit further apart, and Gandhi could stick his whole fat head into Mac’s kennel, and I petted and ruffled his long fur. Gandhi smelled much stronger than Mac but still not unpleasant. I stayed away from Kong, though. And he ignored me as well. He just looked straight ahead at something in the far distance and pretended I wasn’t there.

There were two small doors between kennels, secured by a heavy iron plate that could be pulled up by a chain that went all the way to the ceiling, over a metal beam, and came down again, ending in a crude iron handle. I pulled the chain to Gandhi’s kennel and was surprised at how easily the metal plate slid up. I didn’t need much strength, and I could secure the chain on a hook in the wall. Maybe there was a way to get out through Gandhi’s kennel. I sure wouldn’t try Kong’s—but Gandhi seemed just as peaceful and docile as Mac, just a tiny bit more sure of himself. Where Mac checked if he was playing right every few seconds, Gandhi just made sure he got what he wanted and growled a bit when I didn’t pet or ruffle him in the right place.

I opened the door to Gandhi’s kennel. He tried to push his huge, fat body through the tiny opening, but there was no way. His head could go through… maybe his shoulders… but no way his fat belly could push through.

“Gandhi, go back!” Gandhi just lay there, stuck in the passage between kennels. “Gandhi, go back!” I pointed my arm to the far side of his kennel. He pulled his head back and looked at me. Mac barked and moved to the far side of his kennel. Gandhi looked at him. Mac barked again. Gandhi slowly moved back, looking at me. “Good boy, Gandhi. Go back! All the way back!”

Mac barked twice. Gandhi walked to the far side of his kennel and looked at me.

I said, “Good boy,” again and got down on my hands and knees.

I slowly wriggled my body through the opening. It was easy to go through. My petite body was maybe half the size of Gandhi’s… but I didn’t want to get caught in some part of the crude iron opening and hurt myself. I made it through, got up, and patted my skirt. Again, I noticed how clean both kennels were. I tried the kennel door, but it was the same as Mac’s door. No chance to open it from the inside.

Gandhi came closer while I was trying, and suddenly, I could feel his head pressing against my backside. Not my backside… my ass. I jumped up and let out a short, girly scream. Gandhi’s head was still pressed against my black skirt, and I could feel his warm breath even through the thick fabric.

“No, bad boy! Go back! Back!”

Gandhi moved back, and I turned around. He came closer again, his snout pressed between my thighs. Damn, this really had taken a weird turn. I pushed his head back.

“No! Gandhi, sit!” He sat down and looked at me, his tongue hanging out. “Bad boy… you can’t just… I mean.”

How to explain this to a dog? I looked down at him. I could see something pink and very big sticking out between his legs.

“Does he have a boner?” I shuddered.

This had all been a lot of fun, and I had found Mac, and I had liked Gandhi, too… but this was… weird. Dogs aren’t supposed to get boners for women. It didn’t make sense. But there it was. I shifted a bit to the left and took a closer look. Damn. Double damn. Triple damn. The thing between his legs looked like the thick end of a baseball bat. The tip was bright pink, but further down, it was a dark purple, with thick veins the size of macaroni. From this perspective, I couldn’t really judge the length… something like 10 inches? I shuddered again and felt a strange tingling in my stomach.

Am I going to be sick? Just two minutes ago, there had been nothing scary about Gandhi… but this… this looked very, very, very scary. I had no idea what a dog would do if he were horny. And this dog was horny. I looked again. Has this thing grown? Still 10 inches, but there was something else at the base of this giant dog penis. Like a bulb the size of a big grapefruit.

“Are these his balls? No, silly… there’s only one, and balls don’t go all the way around a cock. They are hanging…”

I bent down a little… there they were. Two big, flesh-colored balls, the size of small oranges. I turned away. Why the hell did I look in the first place? There was this tingling in my stomach again, and this time, I really felt like I was going to be sick. I walked towards the gate between the two kennels backward. No way I’m taking my eyes off this horny beast.

“Stay back, Gandhi.”

He stayed and looked… sad. I crouched down on my hands and knees. I started to crawl through the gate, legs and butt first, my eyes still on Gandhi. I took a quick look over my shoulder to make sure that Mac was still in his corner and wouldn’t pull the same stunt. I felt bad thinking this way about him. He hadn’t been anything but good and playful—but I had just learned that a dog’s behavior can change when he is… horny. Better be safe than sorry. I slowly crawled backward. When I came out on the other side, I sat down, my back against the wall. I breathed slowly but deeply.

I felt sweat running down my back and down my chest. I looked down. My white blouse was ruined, smeared with gray dirt and wet spots from my sweat, and the top two buttons were gone. How did this happen? No idea… maybe while I was playing with Mac and taught him to put his paws on my shoulder and “dance” with me. That had been fun. The last 10 minutes hadn’t been fun. I swallowed. My mouth was dry. I looked around. There was a metal bowl with water bolted to the concrete floor. OK, no way I’m drinking that. I can make it for a few hours without water. If I have to, I can make it till tomorrow morning. I looked to my right. Gandhi had pushed his fat, ugly head through the gate and looked at me. He looked guilty. Guilty and sad. I petted his head.

“Sorry, buddy. I know you didn’t mean any harm. But sniffing mommy like I’m afraid that’s not right. You hear me? No sniff, mommy butt,” I giggled.

This sounded like some bad porn dialogue. I ran my fingers up and down his ear. Mac came closer, lay down next to me, and put his head on my upper leg. I let my fingers run through his fur and patted his belly. Just to be sure, I took a look: no signs of arousal in my new dog. He was a gentleman. I closed my eyes and petted both dogs. Had I overreacted with Gandhi? Dogs sniff. That’s how they explore the world. He hadn’t done anything really bad. He had just pushed his nose against my butt and between my legs. He hadn’t even touched my pussy. The nose had just pushed my skirt inward. Nothing more. If he had lifted his nose a bit and pushed it against my private parts… yes, then some serious scolding would’ve been in order. But he hadn’t. And I had still freaked out.

I gave Gandhi some extra tender cuddles around his neck and behind his ears. He growled softly and looked at me with sleepy eyes. I felt Mac’s breath on my thighs. I looked down. My skirt covered not even half of my upper legs, and my dog’s head lay just below my hip bone. Mac looked back at me. My dog. This is my dog. I leaned back and closed my eyes again. More warm breath on my thighs. I could feel it through my skirt. I could feel it between my legs. Warm. Safe. My dog.

Why had I reacted like this? Why did I think that a dog was interested in me sexually? It seemed wild now that I thought about it. I had behaved like… like a bitch. I smiled. Now, there’s something to think about. Would a ‘bitch’ push the dog back, or would a bitch offer herself?

“I guess I’m not a real bitch. I’m just some bitch.” I couldn’t hold back a deep belly laugh. Mac looked up at me and licked his lips. “Good boy. Mommy is just being silly.” I leaned forward and whispered into Mac’s ear, “Mommy thought Gandhi wants to make doggy babies with her.”

To hold back another laugh, I took Mac’s ear between my lips… why? I really didn’t know. It just felt natural… Mac whelped a bit but didn’t move. His soft fur tasted salty. I let go and leaned back again, tickling Mac under his belly and playing with Ghandi’s ear.

“This was actually the first time in weeks, maybe months, that someone was close enough to me to smell me.”

I had no idea where that thought had come from. But there it was, and it was true. Things between my boyfriend and me were… well, next to non-existent. We had sex on my birthday. That was almost half a year ago. I had given him a blow job on his birthday. That was four months ago. Since then… nothing. This was such a cliche. The only thing that was less of a cliche: we had managed to go from a first date to a steady relationship to no sex at all in less than two years. Why? Hard to say. I had made a pro and con list a few weeks ago. After a lot of thought and soul-searching, I came up with this:

PROS: He’s nice

CONS: He’s nice.

That was it. In a nutshell and without nuance or context, this was really it. I liked him because he had been the first guy in a long time who had been genuinely nice to me. My early twenties were a long string of asshole boyfriends, cool dudes with big egos who treated me like shit. The thing was: none of them really had the personality or status or built or… (‘cock’ my mind said, but I skipped that) to justify this kind of behavior. They were all bad in bed. They were all broke. Some of them were pretty dumb. I remembered Luke, who thought that ‘Vietcong’ had something to do with ‘Hong Kong.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘Vietcong.’ ‘Hong Kong.’ Kong…

I looked to my left. Kong stood close to the bars, motionless as always. He looked at us. Didn’t flinch. “Kong, sit!” He didn’t move. Of course not. “Alright, Sir. We’re sure more comfortable than you.” I hugged Mac and leaned over to Gandhi, smiled at his fat head stuck through the gate, and placed my cheek on the top of his head. “I’m sorry, buddy… like really. Not your fault, and I was the bitch… but not a bitch. Yeah, it doesn’t make sense to me either.”

I kissed the top of his head and rubbed my nose between his eyes. He smelled nice. Stronger than Mac, but nice. I felt more of Mac’s breath between my legs… and then I sat back up straight. I looked to my left, and Kong was sitting. Again, of course. I pulled Mac’s snout away from my thighs and gave him a nose rub, too.

Months without sex or affection or anything… no wonder I couldn’t distinguish between real sexual behavior and just the natural reactions of an animal to a new scent. I thought of Gandhi’s giant penis and the red baseball bat… and filed this under ‘Boys will be boys and boys get boners sometimes.’

*****

CHAPTER 3: Remembering

It’s funny: when I was growing up, I was sure that I would like sex. I started masturbating when I was 14. I had my first boyfriend at 16 but only went all the way when I was 19. Late bloomer and everything, but it just didn’t feel right before I met Eric. Eric was my first real boyfriend, and he was… nice. Sweet. Caring. Gentle. It didn’t hurt when he took my virginity, but this also meant that sex was… just nice. It was making love, slow and with lots of cuddles and ‘I love yous’ whispered in the dark. Things with Eric ended when I went off to college. He cried. I didn’t.

Another nice boyfriend at college, Justin. There’s really nothing to say about him except that he had blonde hair, while Eric had dark brown hair. I really can’t think of a single thing to say about him that made him any different from Eric.

Girls at college talked about their wild nights and their orgasms. I didn’t have a single orgasm while having sex. I had lots of orgasms when I was alone in my room. But with a nice guy like Eric or Justin, making love just meant being close, being held, becoming one… and an orgasm for the guy, no orgasm for me. I never had sex without a condom. I didn’t react well to the pill, so condoms were the only option. Putting them on, sometimes first looking for one, was all part of the same boring, careful lovemaking that became so boring I sometimes faked going to sleep early so I didn’t have to endure another 5 minutes of Justin’s gentle thrusts, which felt like a finger penetrating me.

One night, I went out with some of the more adventurous girls to a club. I wouldn’t say I liked the music, I didn’t like the smoke of cigarettes and weed—but I did like one of the bartenders. He was tall and muscular, with tattoos on both arms and long black hair. He didn’t look clean. He didn’t look nice. He looked brutish and arrogant. I ordered a beer, and he handed me a tall bottle. And I looked at him and let my tongue play around the top of the bottle. He looked at me, made a ‘come hither’ gesture, and went to a back room.

I followed him. He pushed me into a small employee bathroom and pushed me down on my knees. I could hear his zipper while I was going down, and my knees hadn’t even really touched the floor when he pushed his hard cock into my mouth. He smelled and tasted rank, like he hadn’t showered in quite some time… his cock and balls were hairy. I had my first orgasm when his cock touched the back of my throat… I didn’t know what to do. I never had an orgasm when being with a guy, and all I could do was close my eyes and let the waves wash over me… he held my head with both hands… his hands smelled of beer and liquor.

I could feel my pussy soaking my panties, my legs shaking from the orgasm that had hit me when he was fucking my mouth. This wasn’t nice-guy sex. This wasn’t consensual. This was a guy taking what he wanted and not giving a fuck about me or my pleasure. And it got me so wet I could feel the juice running down my legs. His cock raged in my mouth, pushed against my throat. I had never deep-throated… not so much because I didn’t want to but because… well… my boyfriends could barely reach the back of my throat, even when I was pushing my face against their groins.

I panicked and started hitting his abs and hips and legs with my flat hands and clenched fists… but he didn’t let go and rammed his cock down my throat. I felt tears running down my face, and I was gasping for air. His iron grip around my head loosened up, and he pulled his cock out… I sucked in some air and wanted to yell at him, call him a pig, a rapist, a not-nice guy… when the first load of his cum hit my face. His cum smelled of eggs, beer, and something rank like milk gone bad.

I turned my head to the side, felt the next spurt of cum hit my hair and run down my neck… and then I felt his hand in my hair, pulling me up by my hair and pushing my head down on the dirty washbasin. I coughed up some of his cum and tried to kick him, but he banged my head against the basin, ripped off my panties with one hard pull. I could feel another spurt of cum hitting my ass and my dripping pussy.

How could it be that he was still cumming? He wrapped my hair around his fist, and then I felt a pain unlike anything I had ever felt… he forced his cock into my hole with one hand and violent thrust… and I came again. I came so hard that my legs were kicking in all directions. I screamed. I don’t remember if I screamed words or just a guttural sound… and clenched my pussy around his cock.

My head banged against the wall with each violent thrust. The basin smelled of pee and cheap hand soap… and each of his thrusts lifted me off my feet… another orgasm washed over me. I could feel my pussy squirt, I could feel his balls slapping against my clit… and then he came again, inside me, and I had the longest, most intense orgasm of my life. It didn’t seem to end, wave after wave.

It was still going on when he pulled out. Another wave when I felt his cum dripping out of my pussy, I could hear it dripping on the cheap linoleum floor… A long, shivering wave when he said “fucking slut” and then another pulsing wave when I heard the door open and slam shut.

I dropped to the floor, trembling, my face and hair full of cum, my pussy still leaking his second load. I felt… violated. Ashamed. Dirty. And happier than I had ever been in my whole life. This was what it felt like to have an orgasm while getting fucked. This was why people made such a fuss about sex. I used the paper towels in the bathroom to clean myself and wash my face. I couldn’t do much about my hair, but figured it wouldn’t matter. Nobody out there was here to smell my hair.

I don’t quite remember how I got home. But I do remember that everything in my body hurt for a good two days. My lips, jaw, and throat hurt. My pussy was sore and hurt. My knees were bruised. He had torn out quite a bit of my hair, and that hurt, too. I was scared that I might be pregnant. No pill and a giant load of cum delivered deep into my womb. The memory made me shiver… in a good way. I decided while I stayed in bed for two days, I had to accept the fact that I had loved this. Genuinely loved it. But it still couldn’t happen again. Like ever. I was lucky that he didn’t do more extreme stuff. I was lucky that he wasn’t a psychopath and killed me. No way I could ever take a risk like that again.

My next boyfriend was another nice guy. And for the first time, a nice guy actually knew how to make love. But he still lacked the equipment to make me cum. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not a size queen. I would’ve been perfectly happy with 5 inches. Even 4 I could work with. But Alex… 3 inches and a bit. I liked the way he made love, slow but firm, with confident, deep thrusts… but 3 inches only go so deep, and no matter what we tried, I couldn’t cum. I made a conscious effort not to think about the night in the bar’s bathroom… but after each failed session of making love, I remembered the violent thrusts that had vibrated deep inside me. Alex left after three months. No fight, no big talk; he just left, and I never saw him again.

After that, I looked for rough guys. But for a goody-two-shoes like me, finding a rough guy wasn’t easy. And the ones I found all talked a big game but didn’t deliver. They were big on degrading dirty talk, telling me how they would fuck my brains out…, and then they came after 2 minutes, and I don’t think even a single cock was bigger than 5 inches. Nothing wrong with 5 inches, but when someone drools into your ear about how they will give you the biggest cock you’ve ever had, 5 inches just don’t cut it.

Back to a nice guy with the same predictable results. Back to a rough guy, same game, same letdown. Rinse, repeat. Again and again.

Until I met Jeb, another nice guy, but something about this felt just right. I didn’t love him. But he made me feel good. He made me feel safe. He cared about me. And we moved in together. Two years ago. Not a single orgasm since then.

*****

CHAPTER 4: Water

I felt that I was almost slipping into sleep… it was barely 9:30, but my eyes were heavy. Those memories felt like a dream… the nice boyfriends and Mac’s nice eyes and warm breath. The rough ones and Gandhi’s giant dog cock. And the tall bartender. His dominating stare. His air of not giving a fuck about me. Kong. Kong. Kong… I felt a tingling on my thighs. I looked down. Mac’s head was on my skirt. He was looking up at me… what was tingling down there… was it sweat rolling down my thighs? Mac’s head sure felt warm, but not warm enough to make me sweat…

I moved a bit, pulled my legs up a little, and Mac rolled his head in my lap. Then I noticed it: I was wet. Soaking wet. The memories of the night at the bar… I could feel the damp fabric of my panties rubbing over my pussy lips… I pulled my legs up further, and my skirt slipped a bit higher. Mac was on his back, the back of his head in my lap… and then he smelled something. He turned his head and sniffed my inner thighs. I froze.

“No, not again!”

I checked Mac’s lower body… there was definitely a penis sticking out between his legs. Not as thick as Gandhi’s, but thicker than any boyfriend I ever had. ‘Thicker than the bartenders,’ I thought.

It got longer… it was 4, maybe 5 inches when I first looked. Now it was 6 inches… 7 inches… I felt something wet on my thigh and looked down. Mac had licked a drop of pussy juice from my thighs. I was getting ready to jump up, to scold him—and to find a way to keep him away from me. But he just turned around and looked at me with those big brown eyes. Mac licked his lips and snuggled into my lap, his mouth far away from my naked thighs.

“Good boy… don’t you make mommy uncomfortable like this, OK?”

I rubbed his belly. His cock stood at a good 8 inches… and I could see the big bulb at the base of his cock. But he didn’t make any moves, he didn’t sniff me, he didn’t try anything.

“It’s not his fault. He’s just feeling good. And I’m feeling good, too. That’s my dog. My dog.”

I leaned back against the wall and felt Mac’s head in my lap… my pussy was so wet that I made squishy sounds when I moved. Mac turned his head, gave my thighs a quick sniff, and then looked back at me. He licked his lips. I felt Gandhi licking my hand. I leaned down and kissed him on his wet nose.

“You two are real gentlemen tonight.”

I was lying on my side and kissed the corner of Gandhi’s mouth.

I kissed him right below his eye. I whispered into his ear, “I can’t see it, but I bet you have a boner, too, right?”

Gandhi looked at me and pushed his wet nose against my chin. I gave it another kiss and ruffled his thick fur with both hands. I had turned sideways to rub my head against Gandhi’s, and I could feel a cool breeze on my butt when I lifted it off the cold, damp floor. I kissed the corner of Gandhi’s mouth and let my tongue dart over his teeth and gums… Gandhi held still and let me bury my face in the fur on his neck.

Then I felt something cold and probing against my butt… I turned my head and saw Mac pushing his snout against my butt… and I felt his tongue giving my whole butt a good, long lick… I shrieked. Mac looked up, a bit guilty, and licked his lips.

“Now, don’t you make me go through the whole bad-boy routine? No licking mommy’s butt, understand?”

Mac got up, gave me a short, friendly bark, and walked over to his water bowl. I could hear him drink. I looked over my shoulder and saw Kong, his face pressed against the bars, looking at us. From this perspective, he was towering over us, looking down. Perfectly still, but now I saw something in his eyes… he was… interested. Curious. I tried to see if he had a boner, too, but I couldn’t really see it in the shádow of the evening sun.

I got up and stretched. This could be a very uncomfortable night. I liked being with Mac and Gandhi—but by now, I also knew that sleeping next to them might not be safe. They wouldn’t hurt me. I was sure about this. But I wasn’t so sure if they could withstand the scents they picked up. What if one of them started sniffing and licking me in my sleep? Or both of them? I shuddered. I felt something on my shoulder and looked up. A thin string with a ring at its end was dangling from the ceiling. I hadn’t seen it before because it hung close to the wall. I pulled it, and a dim light in the kennel went on. Great, this would help me stay awake. No way I could sleep next to two horny dogs.

I looked at Kong, now illuminated by the weak lightbulb.

Three horny dogs.

Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. No way.

Kong sat on his hind legs, and his cock was sticking out in front of him. This was… wild. This wasn’t a cock. This looked like something the size of my leg. I was standing, my eyes on the same height as Kong’s eyes… and his cock was at the height of my waist. It began a few inches off the floor and went up to the height of my waist. That’s what? Two feet? Two and a half? I couldn’t stop looking. There was a clear liquid oozing out the top of his cock and running down the thick shaft… some of it dripped down on the floor.

I could actually hear the little splash when a drop the size of a cherry hit the floor. “Sir, you are a miracle of nature,” I said out loud. My mouth went dry. I followed another drop from the tip of his cock all the way down to the base… where was his bulb? Was it still… inside of him? Could this thing get any bigger? His balls were the size of coconuts. How much sperm is in there? How many bitches could he breed with one load from those insane balls? My mouth tasted like chalk. I tried to say something, but no words came out, just a hoarse croak.

“Water! I need to drink something like right fucking now.”

My initial idea of just holding out for a few hours or even all through the night went out the window. I had to force myself to look away from Kong and look at Mac’s water bowl. It was half full. Water. Half full of water. ‘Oh, fuck it,’ I thought, dropped down on my knees and crawled towards the bowl. Mac watched me, and I looked back at him. This is his bowl. I hope he doesn’t get angry when I take some of his water.

Mac gave me two short barks, came closer, and pushed me towards his bowl. Small, gentle pushes. Then he sat down, his tongue hanging out, and tilted his head. I bent down over the bowl. Should I use my hands and bring some water to my lips? Or should I lower my head and drink from the bowl like a… like a…. like a bitch? I wanted to use my hands, but I somehow felt that Mac maybe wouldn’t like this.

This was his water, and my hands were dirty. I got down on all fours, lowered my head, and got my first sip of water. It tasted heavenly. I gulped down a mouthful, then took another sip and let it rest inside my mouth. I swallowed and bowed down again, my head all the way down and my butt sticking up. And then I felt a wet snout against my ass. I wanted to say something, but the words just didn’t come out. I opened my mouth and drank. The snout moved over my panties, along my ass crack down between my legs.

‘STOP!’ This was in my head. I didn’t say anything. I just drank. Another mouthful. Then I felt Mac’s wet tongue… his tongue was so long that the lick started just below my belly button, dragged over the elastic band of my panties, down over my pubis, and then along my slit… the soft tongue followed the narrow valley between my legs, pressing against my opening and I gasped into the water bowl. I turned my head and looked at Kong… his head was so high above me that I could only see the underside of his head… but I could see that majestic cock, more clear liquid running down the 2-foot shaft in thick drops…

I turned my head the other way and saw Gandhi staring at me… he was too far away to reach, but I really wanted to touch him… feel him… kiss him… I couldn’t move… I put both hands flat on the concrete and arched my back… spread my legs a little wider… Mac gave me another lick, but this time his tongue stayed on my pussy… I could feel it pulse through my panties. I could feel how he tensed and released his muscles and pressed his tongue against me… there was nothing animalistic or demanding about him. It felt like he did this for me—For me.

And I did feel good. I felt better than I had felt in a long, long time… his breath was on my ass, his wet nose pressed against my asshole as his tongue wiggled between my legs… I could feel my panties shrinking like someone was giving me a wedgie… and then they were between my pussy lips and in my ass crack, like a G-string… and Mac’s tongue licked my pussy lips slowly, licked my inner thighs and licked my ass… I started to tremble… my shoes made cloud click-click-click sounds on the concrete floor, and I started to breathe faster. I turned my head back to Kong and could see that his giant cock was twitching… more pre-cum was oozing out of his cock…

I had to close my eyes… I had to… but couldn’t… Mac started licking me with the tip of his tongue, wiggling it directly on my clit… I bucked my hips… his breath got warmer and harder, and I could feel it all over my ass and pussy… I lowered my head and looked back between my bent arms, my dirty blouse and my black skirt now pulled up all the way around my waist… and saw Mac’s mouth wide open, his lower jaw just below my abdomen, and I suppose his upper jaw must’ve been right over my ass… and then he clenched down… not hard, gentle but firm.

He held my pussy between his jaws, made it bulge out, and pushed his tongue against my panties… pushed so hard that I could feel my panties stretching into my pussy… his wonderful warm tongue pushing harder and harder… I moaned… please… I don’t know if my panties tore open or if they just snapped to the side… but with one loud, wet sound, Mac’s tongue was inside my pussy… deep… I could feel it twisting and turning inside me… pushing deeper…

I closed my eyes… felt Mac’s teeth digging into my skin… his tongue pushing deeper… and then the world exploded. It started deep inside my womb and expanded from there over my whole lower body… my pussy contracted and trembled… my ass was on fire… my legs shook… and I screamed… I reached back with both hands, grabbed Mac’s head, and pushed him against me.

My head was now up in the air, my back arched to the breaking point… and for the second time in my life, I squirted… it came from deep within, and then it felt like a geyser. I could feel my pussy lips flapping around the gush of warm juice… I squirted into Mac’s wide-open mouth, and I could hear him swallow. A second wave, I had to bend the other way and squirted on the floor. It sounded like somebody had poured a bucket of water. I collapsed and felt a third squirt, much softer, much longer, going into Mac’s mouth, and then everything went black.

 

To Be Continued…

 

*This story has been edited 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). 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.