The Amateur Dog Catcher (Gay Zoo)

By cum_munkey69@yahoo.com
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Summer is great in Vermont for a dog lover like myself.

This might not seem like something you would think about, but it has worked out quite well for me in picking up strays. When I say, ‘picking up strays,’ I don’t mean the: ‘Do you come here often and what is your sign’ kind of strays. It’s more like the: ‘Come here, boy, who’s your owner?’

It’s a scam that I came up with about ten years ago when I found some bestiality stories on the net. After reading them, my first thought was they were all made up. That said, I couldn’t get the idea out of my mind. I was 20 and living in a small town where you screw every woman in the city, or you’re too painfully shy too. And it’s even worse if you’re gay. You think you’re never going to have sex. I’m sure I could have found a gay man if I looked hard enough, but small-town gossip is horrible, so it’s better to be discreet.

How it all began was your typical ‘being at the right place at the right time,’ not any genius or planning on my part. I found my first experience when I was driving around on a Sunday afternoon, killing time and taking a break from the heat in my apartment. I lived on the second floor of a duplex apartment building that got warm in the afternoon. So I would hop in my car with a/c and drive the country roads.

Wandering along a dirt road this day was a collie that seemed lost.

I was in the middle of a state-owned forest with a campground a couple of miles away, so I knew it wasn’t a dog that lived in the area. Where ever he lived, he was far from home. There was a chance he was from one of the various summer homes in the area, but he was likely lost in unfamiliar surroundings if that was the case. I rolled down the window of my truck and started to talk to the dog. It was hard to tell who was more afraid of who. I stayed in the truck, thinking a strange dog was likely to be mean.

He kept his distance from the truck, sniffing. I had a couple Slim-Jim’s, and guessing he might be hungry, I peeled the vacupak off and held it out. He came up to the truck and snapped the beef by-product out of my hand. I realized a couple of things right then: the dog was starving, and my only danger was he might snap a finger off in grabbing any food from me.

While he gulped down the Slim-Jim, he was parallel to my truck, and that is when I knew he was a ‘he.’ When I gave him the second Slim-Jim, he warmed up to me considerably. I got out and checked his tag to find his name was Ben. It had a phone number on it from Burlington. These were the days before I had a cell phone, so I had to head back to my apartment to call his owner.

At my apartment, it occurred to me this was an opportunity to try out something a little kinky. So I rubbed Ben’s dog cock in the privacy of my apartment, and to my surprise, his red cock soon poked out for me to touch and look at. I was, jerking off this collie, marveling at its big thick cock. It leaked loads of precum, and I couldn’t help myself I tasted it. It was pretty good, and then as my debauchery progressed, I was, sucking this dog’s cock. Eventually, it blew its load into my mouth, and I was hooked from that day onwards.

It was the perfect way to hook up with a dog since several circumstances prohibited me from owning a dog. The main reason was that I was not allowed to have a dog in my apartment. The landlord just tolerates me having a dog in the apartment for a short time. It takes the owners to come to pick it up. This window of opportunity is when I let my guest fuck me silly. It’s a glorious time for both of us, and nobody suspects anything.

Searching for lost dogs was probably not as good as having a furry companion living with you 24/7. I knew that. However, as my Grandpa often says, “If you have a rocky life, make a rock garden.”

In the last five years, I found that dogs will mate with a willing human (always having a stash of beef jerky doesn’t hurt) nearly every time unless they’re neutered. Finding a willing cock that doesn’t complain about your lack of housekeeping skills, personal hygiene, taste in clothes, etc., is always a real bonus. Dogs just take you how you are. Then if encouraged, they just take you.

However, there is no way I could depend on dogs to give me complete sexual satisfaction. I mean, I’m a human, and I need human contact, too, just like you. Without going into too many details, a couple of times a month, I head to the gay bars in Burlington and hook up with guys down there.

As for women, I have many women friends who are always trying to set me up on blind dates with ‘good girls.’ I have never found one I could relate to on a sexual level. They’re way too vanilla for me. Gay guys, on the other hand, tend to like dirty sex, which is what I want. Girls like nice, romantic, loving sex, which translates to missionary position only. Boring.

Recently this all changed, though, and it all had to do with a very horny Dalmatian I found lost. It was one of my two out of three weekends off, and it was summer. (Summer has the highest yield when it comes to lost dogs.) I listened to Vermont Public Radio, and ‘Car Talk’ was on. It’s my primary source of bestial pleasure in the summer because the station covers the state, so it’s the place people call to advertise they lost their dog. About 10:30 AM, opportunity struck once more, and they announced a lost Dalmatian was answering to the name ‘Arrow’ in the Northern Arlington area.

Fortunately, I’m prepared for lost dogs. I keep treats in my car and usually have some hamburgers in the freezer. Today was special since I had a steak I’d thawed out for supper. Also, I made good use of a sporting goods store where they sold the ‘Redi*Doe’ deer lure. Deer lure is a dog aphrodisiac. It’s estrogen-laced deer piss. It’s used to train hunting dogs to hone their sense of smell to find deer.

I use deer lure sparingly since it’s hard to settle him down for the ride back to my place if I spray it on around an’ active’ dog. Worse still, if you get some of this on yourself in a multiple dog situation, it can get frightening. When you’re out in the wilderness around wolves, it’s best not to smell like a deer.

I do have a reputation, though, a good reputation for connecting lost dogs with their owners. When a master or mistress gets their dog back, they’re always surprised at how sedate it is. Mainly due to the three or four orgasms, I have induced in the beast before calling the owner, but they never know that. No one has put two and two together to realize I mainly only go out looking for dogs, not bitches. However, be it man or beast, sex does have a calming effect.

The DJ announced a $200 reward for the Dalmatian in question, another perk of finding strays and reuniting them with their owners. One of the tricks I’ve learned in the last couple of years was to find the shortest distance home for the dog. I know it sounds far-fetched, but dogs always head for home when they get lost. If the dog is from Florida and gets lost in Vermont, it will head south, and vice versa. Since the owner was from New York City, I knew Arrow would be heading southeast.

I was thinking of Mrs. Jones (my old high school geometry teacher) as I triangulated where I thought Arrow might be. My truck was loaded with dog treats and estrogen. I knew if the dog did stud service, he would go crazy over any female scent, and eventually, if I were wearing that scent, I would get laid too.

I found Arrow about ten miles from where he had been reported lost, and sure enough, it was south/southeast, and he was walking in the direction of NYC. I had the steak I was going to grill for dinner, and I dropped it by the front of my Subaru Outback and backed up, giving him room to check it out. (I was saving the deer lure for my place). He hadn’t been lost for very long, so his appetite wasn’t that big, but it is hard for any dog to resist raw steak. Three sniffs later, his craving for red meat took over. In a low soft voice, I started to talk to him.

Once he had devoured my dinner, I grabbed his collar, attached a leash then checked the dog tags. This was Arrow if I had any doubt. On the tag was contact information. His owner had a stud farm. The name of the place was: ‘Nottingham Farms Dalmatian Breeders.’ I laughed at how Nottingham wasn’t referring to a place but a code word for knotting, which is what a dog does when breeds a bitch. Arrow was indeed a stud. Sex was a regular part of his life. That was clear. That was promising.

I started to play wrestle with him. The contact gets a dog comfortable with wrapping its front paws around my torso and thumping. You know the saying: friends first make the sex better. A Dalmatian would not be my first choice for a lover, even with a nice cock like Arrow had. I know it’s stupid, but the spots, especially around the eyes, make the Dalmatian look like a psycho to me.

I wondered how many pups this guy had sired. Within five minutes of vigorously rubbing his belly, his cock had peeked out of its sheath, and there was a lot to peek out. What a treat, but I had no lube, or I might have let him sodomize me right there on the side of the road. I was tempted to suck him off, but I knew there was a particular risk. As a dog sex predator, I have learned not to count (i.e., fuck) your booty until you’re back in the hideout.

When it’s been announced that a dog is lost, people (especially the owner) naturally look for it. Since it was Saturday, there was a chance the owner was still in the area. Holiday cabins can be rented out seven days a week up here, but most occupants this time of year are weekenders. They arrive Friday night and leave Sunday afternoon so they can be home for work on Monday morning. So the owner was probably still driving around frantically searching for their beloved pooch.

Not a good idea to have them drive up beside you while their dog’s cock is buried up to your ass. They don’t seem to like that for some reason. I led Arrow with the leash into the back of the Outback, giving him a piece of rawhide to pacify him on the ride back to my apartment. He was a friendly dog and well trained by the looks of him.

I’m not sure if it was a metaphor or an allegory to drive back to my place hearing Arrow gnawing on the chewy. It was like sexual angst gnawing at my desire. You can’t force a dog to stick his cock up your ass if the dog doesn’t want to. Fortunately for me, usually, it’s an opportunity that few dogs want to pass up as long as you set the mood right. I was good at setting the mood.

As soon as we were back to my place, I let Arrow out, and he instantly lifted a leg and sprayed out a gallon of piss. Then he yanked at the leash, trying to inhale the neighborhood.

Once inside, I knew not to rush him. I unleashed Arrow and let him sniff out every room in the place two or three times. It’s a small place, but this Dalmatian was hyperactive. Knowing that a way to a man is through his stomach, I opened a can of dog food from my cupboard and put it on a plate (might as well let him feel like a king). While he devoured the food, I was able to put snow booties on his front paws. The booties protect animals’ feet in the cold weather, but I put them on to protect my flesh. I could probably endure the rough play, but it is harder to explain to people why you are covered with scratches, especially the owners.

While he finished his meal, I went to my bedroom, disrobing. I took the deer juice into my room and sparingly dripped a trail from my cock to my greek rose. I sealed the Redi*Doe in a zip-lock bag. I took some lube out of my nightstand, fingering my rosebud with lube.

I knew he had a sizable cock, and I wanted it. I wanted to be ready to take it, and as hyper as the Dalmatian seemed to be, I knew there wouldn’t be much foreplay. I was able to squeeze all my fingers into my opening. I could hear the food bowl scoot across the kitchen floor. Then I heard booty pads tapping in the hall.

A moment or two later, Arrow strolled into my boudoir. One appetite had been satiated, and his belly was filled. Now his nostrils were grabbing onto another desire. I patted the bed, and he jumped up on the bed, licking my face at first. His cock was slipping out of his sheath and rubbing against my cock. I had the proverbial instant hard-on. Arrow found his way to my erection, and he sniffed at the Redi-Doe. He began licking my cock, crotch, and ass. I was pleased to see he took a particular delight in the juices dribbling from my penis. I returned the favor and reached down this erection, grabbing some of his doggie precum.

He nipped my cock, and I regretted putting the lure on my penis. Like a good lover, though, he licked me back to comfort. My cock was erect, and I was excited, but I was nothing compared to Mr. Pedigree. This dog was all about sex. He was a fucking machine. As he inhaled the deer lure and licked it up, his hips were humping air.

The good news was he was ready to copulate. The bad news was fellatio was out of the question during our first go-around until he ejaculated into my ass at least once. I rubbed his ears as he licked me and screwed air.

“You want to fuck a man,” I cooed, and he looked up. It kind of surprised me. “You like to FUCK?” I asked.

He fucked his hip more and barked. He knew what ‘fuck’ meant. He knew what it meant very well. He had been trained with that word. I wondered why someone would teach him to fuck on command as dogs never have any issues around a bitch-in-heat. They’re dogs, after all. When they’re hungry, they eat, and when a bitch starts excreting her pheromones (indicating she’s ready to mate), they’re as horny as hell.

Something did make me nervous. It seemed that Arrow was a ‘barker.’ As I mentioned, I do not have a place that allows dogs. My landlord tolerated ‘overnight stays’ since I explained my hobby of looking for lost dogs, but I’m sure if the dogs ever made too much noise, that would be the end. I almost had enough saved to get a house in the woods, but until then, I needed to be careful.

However, there was no slowing this guy down though. He was humping me in the missionary position without even getting close to my ass. The cock to cock action was stimulating, and I could feel his precum seeping onto my belly. His back was nearly folded in half as he was dry, humping my pelvis and panting. It was a weird position I could not remember being in before, but I wasn’t enjoying it.

A couple of things weren’t working for me. One was that he was drooling all over my face with his tongue out, swiveling his hips over me. The second was only about every ten thing hump was he making contact with cock. It wasn’t worth having my face covered in slime as exciting as that was.

I pushed Arrow, and he jumped off the bed. Oddly enough, he just kept humping the air. I thought this guy was horny! (Thank you, Redi-Doe!)

“Come here, boy,” I called him, and he jumped back on the bed.

I had rolled over and crouched down on my knees with my face against the bed. I pulled my ass open with my hands. Arrow sniffed my asshole, then started to lick it. I didn’t want him to lick away the lube, so I gave him some verbal encouragement.

“Come on, boy, fuck me, fuck my ass.”

Again, the word ‘fuck’ got him excited. Like Reddi*Doe an aphrodisiac for his nose, ‘fuck’ was erotica for his ears. He was poking his cock at my ass like a sewing machine.

“HEEL,” I commanded, and like an obedient soldier, he stopped. It’s funny how all that obedience school training holds a place in a dog’s brain. It doesn’t supersede copulating, but most times, it will slow him down. It gave me a chance to grab Arrow’s cock, slide my hand to his knot, and aim. I knew I wouldn’t get him to enter me slowly, but I wanted him to make it.

As soon as his cock was lined up with my anus, Arrow became an obedience school drop out. To make sure he knew what to do, I whispered: “Fuck fuck fuck,” and he got the hint.

He did what dogs do best, copulate hard and fast. Until you have been genuinely fucked by an over-zealot canine, you don’t know the definition of feather-brained, where your mind (and body) floats away on a fluffy cloud of pleasure. The dog was a pro. He knew how to use that cock.

Arrow surprised me, though. I thought he would drive into me like a maid churning butter, but he didn’t have that consistency. He would hump me in random thrusts: 10 times, then a pause; two times and a break; then 30-ish (one loses count in the excitement of the game) and a delay. The inconsistency was part of the pleasure. The anticipation of when he would plunge into me was driving me mad.

His fucking was so deliciously wonderful I didn’t even realize I was still holding his cock in my hand. It might have been the explanation for his erratic thrusts. It did keep me from being tied. I took my other hand, started stroking myself, and came hard in just a minute.

My sphincter, in harmony with my dick spasms, started to clench.

This kind of startled Arrow, and he let out a little yelp. I thought I might have hurt him somehow, but this big brute was also getting off. I could feel his knot starting to swell. He stopped humping me but continued to push forward, getting the knot in me. I held him out, and he gave up. He must have been spent because he pulled out and jumped down from the bed. I dropped flat, exhausted, to the bed. I could just lift my head to see Arrow cleaning himself.

The sun had set while we romped. My rectum was stretched and filled with Arrow’s spunk. It was nice just to lay there and let my body tingle. I knew I should get and call the number from Arrow’s tag, but I couldn’t let a sweet nookie stud like Arrow go after only one act of sensual delight.

My time with Arrow, or any dog, is limited. I can’t keep pets where I live, and eventually, I owe it to the owner to return their animal. The longer I keep a dog, the harder it is to return it. After a day or two of copulating with a four-legged friend, I have an erection whenever the animal comes strutting into the room. Not a good look for an owner. Also, dogs start to attach themselves to you if you leave it too long.

I’m sure it becomes a little difficult for them since they rarely get to go back home with a lover as easy as me. Of course, with Arrow, that might not be true. Since Arrow lived at the Nottingham Farms Stud Farm, he might get laid on regular bases.

I had gotten to know Arrow quite well in two days.

After finding him on Saturday, I waited until Monday to call the number on his tag. It is a trick I have learned. If I call the day or the next day, I find the dog. Often the owners are still in the area. Two or three days of looking for a dog can wear you thin and cause you to lose hope. Often the reason they can’t find their loved one is because the dog is busy fucking me. The reward check is larger if the owner has gone through the throngs of loss over their dog for a few days.

By Monday, I knew quite a few things about Arrow. I knew he liked dry food over canned; he loved his balls held when I sucked him off, and if you said the word ‘fuck’ around him, he had an instant hard-on and expected nookie (which I always provided). I could only assume that his owner used relatively coarse language around Arrow. I envisioned that every time this Dalmatian was filling a bitch with sperm, his owner encouraged: “Fuck her, come on, Arrow, fuck the bitch.”

I would’ve used that language, too, had I not worried about offending the neighbors. I experimented with both the word and the action. I would say something like, “Do you like geese? how about ducks?” or “Do you like does or bucks?” and guess which word he would get excited about. More importantly, when I said anything that ended in ‘uck,’ he would get excited and end up on me. Considering how I live in a small apartment that doesn’t buffer noise as well as I would like, I had to be careful in playing my rhyming game.

Knowing how well trained Arrow was as a stud, it was pretty tough making that call to his owner. It’s always tough because the dog will return to its owners, never being seen again. Sure the owners tell me if I was ever in the neighborhood, I could drop in, but that would be maddening. To see an ex-lover who wants you and wants him, all you can do is scratch his ears. It is just better to spend the time I can and try to remember the loving but forget the lover.

A woman answered the phone when I called: “Knottingham Farms.”

“Hi,” I said. “I think I have a friend of yours with me.”

“What?” the woman sounded a little annoyed.

“He is licking my face right now,” I told her.

“What the…your face, OH MY GOD, YOU FOUND ARROW,” she bellowed. “Where are you? OH God, I can’t believe it. Is he okay?”

“He is fine,” I consoled her. I wanted to add that he probably had never been happier, but I couldn’t get into details.

“Where are you?” she asked, and I could tell she was walking around the house, probably grabbing her keys.

I explained where I lived and how to get there. She was more than two hours away from me, but I suspected she would make that trip in lightning fashion.

This is a difficult time for me, knowing that I will likely never see the stray again and still have him in my possession. With Arrow, it was even more difficult. Unlike other dogs, he could not get enough sex. Not to mention Pavlov’s dogs might have salivated when they heard a bell. Arrow wanted to fuck when he listened to the command ‘fuck.’ I decided I needed to find out what that was all about. I knew I couldn’t just ask upfront, but maybe I could work it into the conversation.

Arrow had not had enough sex, nor had I, but there was no way I was going to risk the chance of having one more go around. I’m pretty adept at keeping dogs from tying up with me, but I didn’t want to risk being tied to Arrow and the owner at the door. Yelling through the door, “Come back later as your dog’s dick is stuck in my ass right now,” is not a very good greeting.”

Instead, I took Arrow for a quick walk. It’s better when a dog’s bladder is empty when his owner arrives. I wouldn’t want an accident on my carpet. My neighbor put a suitcase in his car as I walked up the sidewalk.

“Oh hey there, I thought I heard another dog barking in your apartment. He’s a good-looking dog,” he said, giving Arrow a scratch behind the ear.

“Yeah found him on Saturday. Just got through to the owners today, and they’re on the way up here to pick him up now. I hope he wasn’t too noisy for you as he is an energetic fellow,” I apologetically.

“Nah… I heard him a bit, but it didn’t bother me. I’m not a tight-arse like our landlord is. But I’m glad I ran into you, though. I was heading down to New York for a few weeks and wondered if you wouldn’t mind checking the mail for me while I was gone?” he asked with a smile.

“Sure,” I said with a smile.

When I got back inside, I realized there was still an hour left before the owner would arrive. I called Arrow over and rubbed his ears, and he was looking up at me. “Gonna miss you, boy,” I told him. “You’re the best.”

All I could think of was how I could be enjoying wild bestial sex with him right now had I not called the owner. He whined like he knew we would soon be separated. He laid down at my feet, rolling on his back. Most would have thought he wanted a belly rub, which I started to do, but already his cock was slipping out of his sheath. I knew what he wanted. Knew and was willing to deliver.

The Dalmatian wanted me to suck him off. I knew I was cutting it close, but I also knew I loved sucking his dick. I work my hands along his belly. His cock continued to expand; he knew a sucker when he saw one. I licked the shaft to his fur, which was all the coaching his penis needed. He was out and ready. I took him into my mouth. He was sweet, salty, and pungent. He was, in a word: delicious.

I bobbed my head up and down, using my tongue to lick up his precum that continued to stream out. He was wiggling on his back as if trying to roll over. He tried to hump my mouth, but he could barely thrust up from his back. I could feel his knot expand, and he was again enjoying my lips.

I held him steady by holding onto his ball sack. It was bittersweet to be sucking this superb dog shaft, knowing Arrow would soon be gone. But I still had this chance.

Oh fuck, someone was on the porch.

Just as I was getting the head motion going, there was a knock at my door, and we both jumped up, I wasn’t sure who was more startled, but I’m pretty sure that Arrow looked just as guilty as I did.

I tried to brush as much hair off me as possible, but it was a losing effort. When I opened the door, an attractive young woman was standing at the door with a leash in one hand, and dog treats in the other. My first thought was she was too young and beautiful to be Arrow’s owner, but Arrow lunged out at her.

“Hi, I’m Sharon,” she said with Arrow’s paws on her chest, “I guess he missed me.”

She cuddled and kissed him, speaking to him in doggy talk. Then she pushed Arrow down. She was cooing to the dog in an embrace that hundreds of men must dream about.

She was dressed in a pair of clingy hip-hugger shorts and a red t-shirt that said, “Nottingham Farms.” I had not envisioned someone so young (about 22) and so attractive. She looked like Brittany Spears pre-babies, though her chest was smaller. She must have been about 5′ 2″, with a nice flat stomach and legs. Even though she had long pants on, I knew she had nice legs because the pants clung to every curve of her lower torso. So much so, you could see the ‘camel toe’ of her labia as she stood there hugging her dog.

I invited her in to get re-acquainted inside before they made the drive back home. Arrow was licking her face when she sat down, and his cock was ready to go again. He was trying to hump her leg.

“Arrow is one lucky dog,” I said when Arrow barked and turned to me. I realized I had rhymed ‘uck’ and got him excited. I decided to have some fun. “He enjoyed riding in my Truck.”

The comment was out of context, but it made Arrow bark and dance in a circle. Better yet, Sharon’s face turned red.

“Did I say something wrong? Your face is as red as a fire truck,” I added with evil malice, and Arrow barked.

“No, I’m just happy to see Arrow,” she ignored his excited state. She might be happy to see him. He was aroused.

“How did you lose him? Did he chase a duck?” I asked, and Arrow yelped. “Wow, he must like ducks.”

I was pure evil. Not only was Sharon speechless with apparent embarrassment, but Arrow was climbing up and trying to mount her.

“Looks like he misses you,” I said and then taunted her: “Does Nottingham Farms have a kennel, or do your dogs sleep with you?”

“Well, um… Arrow, get down, DOWN,” she said, a firm with the Dalmatian. She was able to push him off of her and onto the floor. “Nottingham is Arrow. I have a room where the studding takes place, but yes, he sleeps with me.”

She said it in a way that confirmed to me that ‘sleep’ is a euphemism for sex. She used a tone (or tried to use a manner) that implied there was a little mat on the floor for Arrow.

“That’s good. It’s nice to know that someone tucks my little buddy in at night,” I said, causing Arrow to burrow his snout into Sharon’s crotch. This was great fun. I pretended not to notice the romantic intent of the Dalmatian. “I’ve always wondered about stud services. Can you make a good buck out of it?”

Then I noticed something that was kind of funny. Sharon shifted in her seat. Arrow was excited. You could tell by how he was fidgeting and barking, but Sharon was also excited. There was now a damp spot between her legs on her pants.

Any word that rhymed with ‘fuck’ made Arrow horny, but it also made Sharon horny. Or at least being embarrassed about her dog getting off on the sounds of words that sounded like ‘fuck’ made her wet between the legs.

I laughed, “Oh, look, Arrow got you wet between the legs when he stuck his nose there.”

If someone could die of shame, this would have been the moment for Sharon. I didn’t say anything for a bit, letting Arrow try to mount Sharon. She was trying to push him away without seeming to excite him more. I waited for my moment.

“So… How often do you and Arrow do it,” I asked with a slow, measured tempo.

We stared at each other for a tense moment. I think she was calculating how much I knew or if she should just ignore it all. It must’ve been tough on her. All the emotions of losing a lover, finding a lover, the taboo of the lover being a dog, and sitting right there is a guy who has outed you.

“D-Do what?” she asked.

“You know,” I prompted.

“We don’t ‘do it,'” she responded, but just the fact that was was saying ‘do it’ with the understanding of what ‘doing it’ meant said that she did fuck her dog. As I looked at her, she seemed to tremble slightly.

“You don’t fuck your dog? Hmmm, he seems like he knows what fucking is all about,” when I said this, her face contorted with terror, and Arrow barked, trying to mount her again.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” I kept repeating it, wondering how far Arrow would go and how far Sharon would let me go. The dog was barking and climbing up to get the goods. Usually, I would be freaking out with a dog barking like that, but with the upstairs tenant gone, I didn’t care.

“Stop it, STOP IT STOP IT!” she screamed. It wasn’t clear if she was saying it to the Dalmatian on top of her in the chair, rocking his pelvis, or me. Both of us backed off.

“Alright, we… we…” She was searching for the word, and when I started to say it, she yelled, “Please, don’t say that word. Yes, we do it. Alright?”

I didn’t say anything. I just looked back at her.

Finally, after a big sigh, she said, “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing,” I said, and she squinted at me, not believing or trusting me. “Nothing you wouldn’t do anyway. I just want to watch.”

“You’re disgusting,” she said and started to hook the leash to Arrow’s collar.

“Maybe I am,” I said, walking over to my phone. “But many people would think making love to a dog is disgusting.”

She stopped and looked up at me, trying to figure out if I was serious or just some loser she could steamroll.

“I’m pretty well connected with the SPCA since I am always bringing in strays,” I explained to her, picking up the phone. “I would be glad to let them know of Arrow’s weird behavior since he has been in my home. I think they’d believe me too, and once they test for themselves what happens when you say that word, you’d be well and truly busted.”

Again there was the long stare. She was breathing slow, deep breaths. She breathed in long and slow on the third inhalation, then grabbed her shirt and took it off. Under her red t-shirt was a red lace bra. Arrow knew what was up and started licking her chest. She removed the bra so that he could lick her erect nipples. Accept for when the t-shirt was over her face, she kept her gaze on me, ignoring the randy dog.

After standing up and removing her shoes and pants, she stood looking at me. She was naked, except for a pair of white ankle socks. Arrow’s nose was between her legs, licking. She spread some so he could gain better access. There was pussy juice between her legs.

As bizarre as things were at that moment, they were about to get weirder.

She got down on all fours, and Arrow danced behind her. The telltale wet spot on her pants had made it clear she wouldn’t need foreplay. As cold and steely as she was, Arrow was the opposite. He was jumping around, licking away at his prospective lover, as I had seen him do many times over the weekend.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, and it caught me off guard. I didn’t think she would talk and found it weird she would be asking me that question while her dog prepared to slam into her.

“How attractive you are,” I told her. It seemed like a plausible answer and accurate for the most part. Arrow jumped up on her, with his hips humping at the space between him and her pussy.

“No, that isn’t it. What are you thinking?” she prompted. Things had become so freakish. Reaching between her legs. She must have directed the dog’s cock to her opening, and Arrow thrust into her, and she let out a little sigh.

“Well… honestly?” I asked, and she nodded her head. She was nodding to my question, but she could have been nodding to the thrusts of her dog. “I’m thinking how lucky you are to have that dog.”

At first, it didn’t sink into her that I was also in love with Arrow. Not only did I love Arrow, but I was longing for his cock to be rocking in me, not her. She must have thought I was avoiding the question.

A moment later, another change appeared on her face. She softened some, but the intensity was still there. She crawled over to me. It was a funny sight, her on all fours creeping to Arrow and me hopping and humping to stay with her. When she got to me, she grabbed my belt in a motion that made me think she was trying to stand up.

“Down,” she said, speaking to me.

I got onto the ground, and she undid my pants, pulling them and my underwear off. She licked my dick, which was soft, but becoming excited. Then she slugged my chest.

“You bastard, you slept with my dog! I can taste it on your cock,” she shrieked at me.

“I… I, um,” and she slammed her fist down on my chest again.

“I hope it was good,” she said with a shrill, and I thought she would hit me again but then dropped her face to my crotch. She pressed her forehead against me, not moving.

“Fuck!” she said, lifting her head and looking at me. Hearing the word, Arrow started to hump harder. “Mmmmm. Mmmm, you—you had to, didn’t you.”

She grabbed my cock, and I put my hands over her hands for protection.

“I’m sorry, but… but,” I didn’t finish, and she licked the head of my cock. I flinched, thinking she was going to bite me. She continued to lick the tip of my penis, and I relaxed my hold on her hands. She took all of my cock into her mouth, wetting it with her saliva. I thought she had started to bob up and down, but it was only a motion caused by Arrow pushing into her.

She held on to my cock with her hand, but her body moved forward. It was more like she was holding the horn of a western saddle and not stroking me sexually.

“Mmmmm, mmmmhhhhmmmph,” she groaned, then for a few moments, neither Sharon nor Arrow moved.

“Arrow… Arrow,” she whispered, and it sounded like she was crying. As if to answer her, Arrow whimpered. I was touched. There is no way these lovers should be separated.

Her face was pressed against my stomach. She started to pump her grip up and down my cock, and I could see what had happened. Arrow was now beside her and had managed to tie himself inside her with his knot. He was panting, the satisfied pant I had seen a couple of times. Sharon lifted her head from my stomach.

“As soon as Arrow’s knot deflates, you owe me,” she said while jacking me off with her hand. Now she was not just holding on but playing with my pleasure.

“Owe you?” I was bewildered.

“Yea, it’s your turn to let me watch you get fucked,” she said, and Arrow let out a tired bark, but it was clear the ‘fuck’ was out of him, at least for the time being. She noted his tiredness and said, “Although I think he has probably fucked you many times in the last few days, you slut!”

 

The End.

xxx-fiction-story-disclaimer3

 

*This story has been edited to fix spelling, punctuation, & basic grammar, but the narrative and plot have remained the same. Remember, even the limited editing done here doesn’t always mean the narrative/plot flaws in a story are fixed.

One comment

  • Her beastiality is on fringe of front row entertainment. They’re shopping and being publicly visible. It won’t be too long before they’re off and on their way. I don’t need to see this.💂

    Reply

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