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No. 3509
ID: 017bb2
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Many cons ago, during the age of furry newsgroups, before fur affinity and other archives, there was a story told of one of the darkest crevices of the fandom. The names are lost to time, but a group of people gathered at furry meetings and cons to participate in what they called "Dirty Dog Parties".
This tale was born of betrayal, as most airing of furry dirty laundry tends to be, but this woman was part of a trio lovers and became jealous of her partner's favoritism towards the third during these little meetings. So the details came out with the names of those that participated in these horrible get-togethers. A "Dirty Dog Party" consisted of relative strangers meeting, barely looking at one another because they were not much to look at to begin with, which was easy because the chat programs at the time were primitive and the dial-up limitations kept the trading of photos to a minimum.
Their repulsive visages that normally kept them from regular sexual ativity would not be a factor here because the moment they gathered into a room, the lights were turned off, followed by a hasty removal of often stained clothing. The "Dog" part of the name comes from the acts of getting down on their hands and knees and "sniffing out" a partner. The first ass they found would be mounted with a few grunts and groans depending on the weight of the top dog and they would plunge into whatever orifice their shamefefull dicks came in contact with. What angered the woman telling everyone about these meetings was that her boyfriend "learned the scent" of his favorite lover's ass and could be heard thumping heavily across the floor in the darkness to attach himself to them first. She didn't think associating herself with these sorts of people was a far greater sin than any unseen disgusting act conducted in the room of sweaty, mouth breathing proto-furries.
The "Dirty" part of their party's title was not based on the casual sex with unknown partners of questionable hygene, but the fact that to join this growing group of festering sexual frustration, one had to drink a glass of the group's combined saliva. This was all the more shocking to consider because of the reputation of early furry fans for having just as poor oral care as body care, but the promise of unquestioned orgasmic relief drew in surprising numbers for such utter depravity. Their cover blown, their names being known, these fans and artists alike scurried from the light shown on their hideous pasty bodies contorted in one, writing mass like so many hefty bags full of mayonnaise and cottage cheese in the bed of a pick-up truck on a bumpy road. So, with one posting on a furry newsgroup, the Dity Dog Parties ended and thankfully forgotten. Though some say the staff of the hotels still have trouble getting the funk out of those rooms' sheets and curtains, like a permanent mark of shame these people left behind... Along with enough bodily fluids to make three maids quit.
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