****** Pet Lovers Forum Stories ******
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Dingo Jay's Stories


Elsa -- An Original Dog Story by Dingo Jay

The following story is, for the most part, true. As usual, the names have been
changed to protect the innocent. Of course, I won't promise that there aren't
any slight exaggerations here...

I live in a more or less rural area in the upper Midwest. There are lots of
country roads around here, with farms, woods and a number of small
neighborhoods here and there. I frequently take long walks around the area,
both for exercise and to unwind from the pressures at work. Many of the homes
and farms have dogs and various other animals and the dogs are frequently
allowed to run free. Since many of the roads have little traffic, and the
houses are not especially close together, roaming dogs don't seem to get in
quite as much trouble as they do in the cities and suburbs, and most stay
fairly close to home. I've always been an animal lover (if you're reading this
you probably, as I do, love animals more than most people do!) and I have
managed to make friends with most of the critters on my walking routes.

Occasionally, one or more of the dogs will join me on my walks, sometimes with
the owner's blessings, especially if my own dogs are not with me. A number of
years back, I had set out for one of my long walks, usually averaging 6 to 8
miles. I had decided not to take my dogs along, as they were getting quite
elderly at 13 and 15, and didn't really like to go much more than a mile or two
at a time. One house I frequently passed belonged to a guy named Tom, and he
had a beautiful black Lab/ Pit Bull mix bitch he called Elsa. Elsa had had a
litter of pups several months earlier, and I stopped frequently to play with
her and the pups, and to swap bullshit stories with Tom. Tom had managed to
place all of the pups in new homes, (somehow I had resisted taking one) and
Elsa was pretty lonesome without them. As I approached Tom's place, he was
raking the yard and Elsa was, as usual, 'supervising.'

As soon as she spotted me, she started barking and running towards me, but as
soon as she got close enough to see it was me, the ears went back, her eyes
sqiunted up, and her tail started wagging so hard that it was throwing her
hindquarters off balance. She waddled up to me and started rubbing my legs like
a cat and making soft crooning sounds. I sat down and petted her, and Tom took
a break from his yard work and sat on the front steps, and we started chatting.
After a few minutes of that, Elsa climbed up and sat in my lap. At about 85
pounds give or take, she was one hell of a big lap dog! Once she got into my
lap, she kept squirming her butt around, as though she was having trouble
getting comfortable, so I sort of spread my legs to give her some more room.
She kept squirming and rocking back and forth on my lap, until she found what
she'd been looking for, which surprised the hell out of me!

She had precisely planted her doggy vulva on top of my cock, and even through
my shorts I could feel that she had carefully placed it so her lips straddled
my shaft. She was having some slow, gentle contractions, and as I have definite
zoo-ish tendencies, she was getting me extremely aroused, and I got hard almost
instantly, and started having some contractions of my own. That immediately
sent her over the edge, she had a powerful orgasm, pointing her muzzle straight
up and closing her eyes in ecstacy.

I bit my lip and held back with everything I had to keep from blasting off in
my shorts, right then and there! I must have turned red or been making faces or
something, because Tom asked, "Are you OK, Jay?" "Yeah, I'm OK, but I think
your damned dog is trying to molest me!", I said as I (reluctantly) shoved her
off of my lap. "Yeah, she does that sometimes. She must be pretty close to
comin' into heat again. Guess I'm gonna have to have her spayed eventually",
Tom muttered matter-of-factly. I had leaned forward and crossed my arms across
my lap to try and hide the bulge in my shorts. I forced myself to think about
anything besides what had just happened, and eventually my hardon subsided. I
told Tom that I wanted to finish my walk before it got too late, and 'have a
good one' and so on, and headed down the road. As soon as I was out of sight of
the house, I looked down at the front of my shorts where Elsa had been sitting,
and noticed she had left a small wet spot with a little dab of yellowish-white,
gooey stuff in the middle. I wiped it off with a fingertip, and smeared it on
my tongue. It had a very nice salty-sweet taste with a little bit of musk to
it. I wanted some more of that! I had trouble thinking of anything besides Elsa
for the next several days.

Although I had been having sex with my own two dogs for many years, and Elsa
had accompanied me on walks several times before, for some reason I had never
thought about her in a sexual context. I had fingered several bitches before,
and even done 'puppylingus' on some of them, but I had never had intercourse
with one. I really wanted to screw Elsa if she would have me, and she looked
like she was big enough to handle it. Considering her behavior, I began to
wonder if Tom might have been screwing her or something, but I quickly
dismissed that idea, as Tom was an ex-Marine and kind of a redneck type-- Not
your typical zoo-beasty sort. Elsa had been fully grown when Tom got her, if I
remember right he once told me he had gotten her from a relative whose
significant other was afraid of her, or something like that. No telling what
had happened to her in that past life.

The following Saturday was warm and sunny, and true to form, I went for a walk,
making a mental note to take the route past the house where Elsa lived. As I
approached the house, I noticed that Tom's pickup wasn't in the driveway, and
Elsa was nowhere to be seen-- bummer! He must have either taken her with him or
shut her up in the house. As I walked a little farther down the road, however,
a plump, shiny black form exploded from under some shrubbery and charged toward
me. Alrighty, then, time for a walk in the woods! Elsa happily followed me
across the State road, and about a quarter-mile to an old gravel road that cut
through some abandoned, overgrown farmland, then into a more thickly wooded
area.

We stepped off the road onto a deer(?) trail that led to a small, grassy
clearing that was mostly surrounded by thick underbrush. A nice, private place
to have a romp with the neighborhood mutts. I'd used it many times.

As I sat down on the grass and pine needles at the edge of the clearing, Elsa
slammed into me like a freight train, wrapped her front legs around my arm, and
began humping me violently! I'd had plenty of male dogs do that before, some
even in this place, but I never expected to be mounted by a bitch! I figured
I'd have a little fun with this, so I reached between her hind legs with my
free hand and hooked two fingers in front of the point of her vulva, and
started masturbating her. She responded by gripping me more tightly, and
thrusting frantically as though she were a male dog who was about to shoot his
load. Well, guess what? That wasn't too far off the mark... After humping for a
good two minutes, Elsa let out a low grunt that turned into a yelp, and
exploded into what had to be the strongest canine orgasm I had ever
experienced. The entire area around her pussy was rock-hard and throbbing, and
her juices were oozing out onto my fingers, across my palm, and trickling down
my wrist. She suddenly released her grip on my arm and started galloping around
the perimeter of the clearing, yipping and snorting. Then, just as suddenly,
she stopped directly in front of me, turned her rear end towards me, and
twisted her tail to one side. Just in case the reader isn't familiar with that
gesture, that's Canine body language for: "Hey, Sailor, ready for a good
time?!" I sure was.

Elsa stood there stiff-legged, her hind feet firmly planted, but she kept
looking at me over her shoulder to see what was taking me so long, as I
stripped off my jeans and prepared to mount her. I slipped a finger into her
twot, then two, gauging her size. I found her to be more than adequate to
accommodate me, She'd recently had a litter after all. (To be honest, I'm not
exactly Johnny Wad!) I put my arms around her waist with my hands hooked in
front of her hips, and began poking at her opening with my stiff cock, much as
a male dog would do. Elsa pushed her butt into my crotch and wiggled it around
a bit, but we seemed to be having a small problem getting the equipment to
match up. I was only getting the very tip of my penis just past the lips of her
cunt, then I just seemed to be hitting a blind alley. I thought the problem
might be lubrication or more precisely, lack of it, so not having anything with
me, I realized there was an almost limitless supply of all-natural, organic dog
slobber up front! The best (and most fun) way to apply this lube is to assume
the classic 'K-Sixty-9' position and let her have her way with my member while
I performed a little 'puppy-lingus' on her other end. This activity has brought
endless hours of mutual pleasure to me and Maggie, my own bitch, even though
she is spayed and I absolutely cannot enter her.

Elsa had a lovely, fat clit, and when I sucked it, she humped a little and
lapped even more greedily at my cock. I could feel the pressure building up
inside me, and I didn't want to shoot off in her mouth, though I was sure she
wouldn't have minded! I turned myself end-for-end, and rolled Elsa onto her
side, her plump tummy facing me. I lined up my now well-slobbered cock with her
similarly wet opening, and pushed gently. To my great surprise, it slipped in
easily, and I began slowly rocking my hips, continuing to push gently into her.
She felt quite hot inside, just a little tight, and she had a rhythmic
squeezing motion that felt like she was pulling me in. She grunted a bit,
wrapped her forelegs around my middle, and humped against me, taking everything
I had inside of her. As Elsa worked her crotch against mine, I could feel every
muscle in her body tensing up, then with a shudder and a deep groan of
pleasure, she came. So did I. I had never experienced anything as intense as
the orgasm I was sharing with this horny bitch, as I filled her with my juices,
she licked at my mouth, and I parted my lips and let her in. Only a short time
earlier, the very thought of kissing a *dog* in this manner would have really
grossed me out, and when I think back on it, it sort of still does, but the
passion I was feeling for Elsa at the moment had pushed any other thoughts out
of my mind. We remained in this embrace for several minutes, and I tried to
keep up as long as I could, but my human anatomy just wasn't on a par with that
of a male canine, with his 30-minute-plus orgasm, and eventually I just sort of
slipped out of her. I *really* wished I had a knot!

Elsa got to her feet, gave herself a shake, and proceeded to clean herself up.
She then did the same for me. The best thing about dogs is that they don't
compare you to their previous lovers. Hers had been Jake, a yellow Labrador,
who was the father of her pups. I knew from personal experience just how good a
'lover' Jake was as I had enjoyed a few rolls with him in this same place, but
that's another story...

Elsa's attitude seemed to be "you're here, now, he's not. Let's go!" His loss.

Elsa and I walked out of the woods back to the road, I tossed a few sticks for
her to fetch, and near the point where the gravel road joined the paved one, a
small creek ran under a wooden bridge. Elsa, being part retriever, could not
resist running down there to splash around a bit. After a while I convinced her
it was time to go home, and as we approached her house, Tom was just getting
out of his truck.

"Where'd you find her?", he asked. "She was just over visiting Jake," I
replied. "Yeah, I figured she'd be over there. C'mon, Elsa, it's time to eat."
He didn't have to tell her twice. Elsa and I made several more trips to that
clearing in the woods through late summer and early fall, and during the
January thaw, I stopped to visit her. She rolled over to let me rub her tummy
as she always did, and I noticed she had been shaved, and had a three- inch
long scar in the middle of her abdomen. Spayed! Damn! Well, it was fun while it
lasted, but I guess were just friends now. We made a few more trips to the
woods after that, and Elsa was almost as horny as ever, but I tried fingering
her, and could only get in to the second joint. We had to settle for that good,
old 'K-sixty-9' position, and she didn't seem to have any problem getting her
rocks off when I sucked her clit. I got mine by letting her work me over with
that fabulous tongue of hers, since I couldn't have the other end any more. (I
never do 'anal' with dogs, partly because they have all sorts of nasty things
living in their digestive tracts, and partly because I have yet to meet a dog
that will tolerate it!)

The following summer Tom took a job on the West Coast, and of course, Elsa went
with him, and that was the last I saw of her. I've had a couple of bitches
since then, but none to compare with Elsa. I once assisted a pair of
Rottweilers with a breeding because the owners were too squeamish to even
watch, and when they were finished, I -er- took 'sloppy seconds' on the bitch.
I think she only let me do it because she was in heat, the male was young and
inexperienced, and he hadn't satisfied her. It was rather mechanical, and
nothing like I'd had with Elsa. Maybe someday I'll find another lady like her,
on four legs or even two.

===============================================================================

A Story About Growing Up Zoo by Dingo Jay

I have been a zoophile for more than 30 years. I have never been especially
interested in women, (though I do enjoy looking) and in spite of the fact that
my family and some other people suspect that I am gay, I have never found human
males attractive in any way. My animals of choice are canines of any
description-- and both sexes. I have had far more experiences with male dogs,
but I believe that is simply because they are more readily available in an
intact state than bitches, they are more frequently found 'out and about,' and
they are ALWAYS sexually receptive.

I started experimenting with animals when I was 10 or 11, mostly by examining
the equipment and figuring out how it worked, as I do with everything. For some
reason I was always fascinated by watching various animals urinate, sometimes
doing such things as pushing back sheaths or spreading labia to get a better
look. We always had lots of small animals around- mice, hamsters, guinea pigs
(cavies outside the U.S.) and a couple of cats. We also had a medium-sized,
elderly, spayed female dog. There were always plenty of books around the house,
including nature books that had in-depth descriptions of the genitalia and
mating habits of various species; and some medical books, including one that
featured an overview of the structure and functioning of the human reproductive
system, complete with detailed line drawings!

At about age 12 or so, I was experimenting with my own equipment and
accidentally triggered a 'function check.' (*grin*) The effect was startling to
say the least, but of course a few days later I worked up the courage to try it
again! Once I realized exactly what was happening here, the next step was to
apply my newfound knowledge to the various critters.

The two male cats were first. The older one would have none of it and took a
whack at me every time I tried to touch him. The younger cat was much more
cooperative, lying quietly on his back with a goofy expression on his face
while I made him squirt again and again! Eventually, he got tired of it and
simply walked away, but I think he was enjoying himself.

The guinea pigs were really bizarre. They flared when they came, kind of like a
horse. Their cum was thick and gooey, and it almost instantly hardened into a
firm, waxy blob. After a few minutes, a milky, white liquid melted out of it,
leaving behind a kind of crust. Weird! I've been told that rabbits are similar,
but I don't know this for sure.

Once when I was alone with our old, spayed female dog, I reached under her and
rubbed her in various places. When I found just the right spot, she hooked one
front paw around my arm humped her hindquarters up and down. I worked a finger
into her, and she humped more purposefully, and her insides squeezed and pulled
at my finger. When she had finished thrusting, she ran around the room at top
speed, jumping on and off furniture, and spinning in tight circles, chasing her
tail. I believe she liked it! I recall pushing my finger into her a good 2
inches or so. She was spayed in the late 50's and I think they did it
differently then- more recently spayed bitches I've tried fingering seem to
have very little beyond the labia.

When I was about 14, some new neighbors moved in a couple of doors down. They
had two teenage daughters who weren't bad looking, but I wasn't really too
interested in them. They also had a large, beautiful male Golden Retriever who
I found far more interesting. While other guys my age were working on ways to
get alone with the girls to feel them up or whatever, I wanted in the worst way
to get that dog alone! I had never had access to a male dog before. I soon
discovered that they let him out for an unsupervised run every night at about
10 p.m. I began 'taking walks' at about that time whenever I could get away
with it. The dog was very friendly and would follow me anywhere I wanted to
take him. I found a nice, private place in some nearby woods where we were
unlikely to be disturbed. Caleb (not his real name) was sweet, gentle and very
patient, not to mention nicely hung, and he didn't seem to mind being handled
at all.

My early experiments with Caleb consisted of simply pushing back his sheath and
examining what was inside. Later, I would masturbate him, and I was surprised
to find that his cum was thin and watery, similar to the cat's and very unlike
that of the guinea pigs -or myself. What I really wasn't prepared for was how
much of it kept squirting out of him, and then there was his knot!

The first few times Caleb and I went to the woods, I only pushed his sheath
back part-way. The books I had read mentioned that a dog had some sort of
erectile folds that prevented him from withdrawing from the bitch "until
fertilization has occurred," but I hadn't seen anything like that. It wasn't
until the first time I got him really hard that I experienced the true nature
of his knot. My first thought was that I had somehow damaged him, and his balls
had traveled into his sheath through a hernia or whatever. Caleb didn't appear
to be distressed in any way, and further inspection revealed that both his
balls were in his sack where they belonged. OK, erectile folds...

One day at school, I overheard some guys in the locker room snickering about
something called a "blow job." (What would we have done without Junior High
locker rooms?) I asked one of them in private what exactly it was. He gleefully
described it in all the gory details. It sounded interesting, but the thought
of doing something like that to another guy turned my stomach. As unpopular as
I was at the time, the possibility of getting any girl to do it to me was
remote indeed. After all, I was that little fat kid with glasses (you know the
type!) that everybody beat up on.

I thought about the cat, but decided he was so small that it wouldn't be worth
the trouble. I met good old Caleb in the woods that night. I pulled back his
sheath and got my nose really close to his penis, so I could smell it. It
didn't smell that bad. In fact it had very little smell at all, save for the
same slight doggy smell as the rest of him; and a warm, wet musky smell; not at
all unpleasant. The skin of it was pale pink, smooth and moist, and covered
with a clear, slightly slippery secretion. Before I lost my nerve, I took his
pointed tip between my lips and sucked him gently while I stroked his sheath
back and forth over his knot. Caleb started thrusting gently in time to my
stroking, and shortly thereafter, the first drops of fluid spilled onto my
tongue. It tasted just a little salty at first, but as the initial dribbles
grew into long, powerful spurts, the taste changed to a kind of bitter -
sweetish that left a tingling or burning sensation on my tongue. I was
instantly hooked on this, both the taste of his cum, and the feeling of his
cock slipping past my lips. From then on, I invited him into the woods several
times a week, and over the next few years, I sucked him off many hundreds of
times. Neither Caleb nor I ever got tired of it.

I had passionate feelings for this dog that I still don't understand, and I
felt a need to consummate them in some way. I had tried masturbating myself
while feeling him up, and at the last moment slipping myself into his mouth.
Caleb seemed to enjoy lapping up my cum, but it didn't do much for me. I felt
the need to fuck him somehow, but as we were both male, I wasn't sure how to go
about it. I tried mounting him from behind and taking him anally, but as soon
as I would poke around under his tail, he would snap it between his legs. If I
persisted, he would turn around and bare his fangs at me. That was the only
area of his body that seemed to be off-limits. Perhaps it reminded him of a
trip to the Vet- his owners had once mentioned that he hated going there! Then
an idea struck me. Caleb's cock was as big around as mine or maybe even bigger
when he was hard. Even when he was fully erect, it would slip easily in and out
of his sheath, except for the knot. Maybe I could do him in his sheath? I had
poked my fingers or tongue into it many times, and he had never objected in the
slightest. I tried slipping my cock in, but it kept pushing his opening closed.
I pushed a little more, but not enough to hurt him, so the end of the sheath
rolled in, forming a cup around the head of my cock. Suddenly, I felt a little
snap as the lips of his sheath closed behind my rim. I shot off instantly from
the excitement, and as soon as he felt me in there, he got hard so fast, that
he pushed me right out, and just stood there squirting! We did this many more
times, and it always brought us both off very quickly! I only recently found
out that this practice is not unheard of, and it's called 'docking' in Zoo
slang.

Occasionally, my parents would go away for a weekend or longer, and when they
weren't around, I would take Caleb up to my room. There we invented a new game.
I would lie on my back, naked, and have Caleb lie down on top of me, so his
cock and balls were pressed tightly against mine. I would start humping my
crotch against his, and he would respond in kind. We would lie there and hump
each other silly, until we shot our respective loads, and were both a sloppy
mess! Caleb would then clean us both up as best he could, and I would head for
the shower. It was rather messy, but extremely fulfilling. I have never been
able to get another dog to do this!

I don't believe the neighbors ever caught on to exactly what was going on
between me and Caleb. He never tried mounting me or showed any other signs of
arousal in front of his owners or my parents. The teenage daughters were rarely
home as one might expect, and they would often ask me to take Caleb for a walk,
or feed him and take him out if they weren't going to be around. I had also
grown extremely fond of Caleb for reasons that had nothing to do with sex. He
was affectionate and loving, and he had a great personality. I spent as much
time with him as I could, probably more than his owners did. Every time we
would meet in our special place in the woods, though, Caleb would already be
half-hard and showing pink. I would get down on my hands and knees, and he
would immediately reverse-mount me and start humping. I just couldn't get
enough of that wonderful doggy cock and its sweet juices!

I continued to have sex with Caleb until I left home, after which I missed him
terribly. I would still sometimes get a chance with him, while visiting my
parents, or house sitting for them while they were away. I certainly did not
object the several times over the years that my mother volunteered my services
to dog-and-house sit for the neighbors when they went on vacation for a week or
two! Though it wasn't as regular as in the good old days, Caleb and I enjoyed
each other's company from time to time until he died at age 14-1/2. It is said
you will never have another lover like your first, and that's true of Caleb.
He's been gone more than 15 years, but I still miss him. Even if he was only
the neighbor's dog.

===============================================================================

Wolf Walk (Story) Part 1

From time to time I visit a wildlife sanctuary that happens to have a pair of
wolves. They appear to be of the Tundra Wolf subspecies, as they are almost
pure white, except for some slight black tracings across the shoulders, down
the back, and on the edges of the ears, and their eyes are brown. They are
quite tame, well-socialized with humans, and friendly once they get to know
you. The female, who I'll call Sheena, was taken from a couple who had kept her
in an apartment (!) until the landlord found out what she really was and called
the local game warden. The male, Lobo, belonged to a wealthy "urban
entrepreneur" (read drug dealer) until he got busted, and was given to the
sanctuary by the man's family when they realized that they didn't know how to
handle him. They are fairly old now, maybe 10 or 11 years by my estimate.
According to the volunteers who care for them, Sheena was spayed by her former
owners, but it takes only a quick glance to see that Lobo is intact.

The wolves get their exercise by being run in the woods leashed, of course) by
volunteers and regular visitors whom they have come to know and trust. Their
handlers harness them up, and tie a long leash around the "victim's" waist,
with the other end of the leash attached to the wolf's harness. You'd better be
ready to run-wolves do NOT walk nicely on a leash! I have done this quite a few
times over the years, always with another person. It's absolutely unacceptable
to run just one wolf; the one who gets left behind will more than likely wreck
the place!

Visiting Sheena and Lobo on a weekend is kind of a hit-or-miss situation. You
might find that they are already out with someone else, or had their run
earlier in the day. As much as they enjoy their outings, one per day is all
they can really handle at their age. I had a sick day left from the previous
year that I needed to use before it went away, so I decided to take off work
and visit my lupine friends on a weekday morning. I arrived at the sanctuary in
late morning, and spent some time petting the wolves through the fence, and
letting them sniff and lick my fingers.

After I had been there for a short time, a young woman joined me at the wolf
enclosure. She introduced herself as Kathy, and asked if I had been there
enough times that the handlers would allow me to walk the wolves. I told her
that I had been, and I'd had the privilege of being dragged through the woods a
number of times! She smiled and said she had also, and we agreed that since
there were two of us, we should get the wolves harnessed up so they could take
US for a walk. Kathy and I went and found a wolf handler to open the enclosure
and hook us up with the wolves. As soon as Sheena and Lobo saw the handler come
out of the shed with the harness and leashes, they started bouncing up and down
and yelping. Once we were hooked up and the gate was opened, they exploded
through it like a couple of race horses, with Kathy and myself in tow.

For the first few minutes of the run, Sheena and Lobo galloped along the trail
towards the woods so fast that Kathy and I could barely keep up with them (as
if we had a choice!) Eventually, they slowed down to a more reasonable pace,
stopping occasionally to sniff around a little or mark their territory. Sheena
found a burrow made by some small animal and decided to dig it up. Lobo didn't
seem interested, and just kept going. As Lobo and I were disappearing into the
underbrush, Kathy yelled, "We might be a little while here, we'll catch up to
you later!" "OK," I shouted back, "We'll wait for you, or catch you back at the
pen!"


Part 2

After plowing through the woods for a few hundred yards, Lobo stopped at the
foot of a huge tree to sniff around it a bit. I figured this was as good a time
as any to take a quick break, and sat down for a minute to catch my breath.
Lobo came over and nuzzled me, and as I rubbed his neck and shoulders, he
leaned against my chest and rested his chin on my shoulder. I wanted to hug
him, but I wasn't sure if that would be a good idea. I scratched and petted him
all along his back and sides, then down along his belly. As I was idly running
my fingers through the wolf's soft, white belly fur, it suddenly struck me that
I was in a situation I could have only dreamed of-alone in a secluded place
with a friendly WOLF!

I looked around and listened carefully, in case Kathy and Sheena had caught up
to me, but there was no one around. I very gently stroked the backs of my
fingers along the length of Lobo's sheath, watching him carefully for any sign
that he might not like being handled. I was aware that if he objected strongly
enough, I could be in for some serious bodily harm! He continued to lean on me
without much of a reaction at all, so I slowly curled my fingers around his
knot and gave it a slight squeeze. I felt a couple of quick throbs as the knot
almost immediately began to grow in my hand. Excitement shot through me like an
electric charge, and I'm not sure if Lobo sensed that, or if it was the
stimulation he was receiving... He suddenly stood bolt-upright and looked at me
with a slightly startled expression. He didn't growl or bare his fangs or
anything, so I just watched him for a few seconds. He turned end-for-end, then
he sidled up to me and raised his hind leg as though he was about to pee on me!
I got ready to duck out of the way if he let fly, but he didn't. He just stood
there looking at me, I think he was offering himself to me! I reached under him
again, and cradled his sheath in my hand. I stroked him slowly, starting behind
his knot, and working up to the end. I dipped a finger into his opening and
brought it up to my mouth to sample his juices. There was a little of the
bitter, skunky taste of canine urine, maybe a bit stronger than the domestic
dogs I was used to. Beyond that was a very unusual wood-smoke taste of the
creamy secretions from inside his sheath.

I gently pushed back his sheath, exposing the pointed tip of his penis. It was
a smooth, healthy pink, and I would have dearly loved to have taken him in my
mouth, and I'm fairly sure he would have let me. Once I do that, though, I tend
to get carried away and probably wouldn't have noticed if Kathy and Sheena
walked right up behind me until it was too late! I leaned under him and very
briefly circled the end of his cock with my tongue. I hesitantly backed away
from Lobo's beautiful equipment and slipped his sheath forward to its normal
position. As I stood up, I heard a loud, canine sneeze in the distance, along
with footsteps and a woman's voice.


Part 3

All but dragging Kathy along behind her, Sheena came crashing out of a small
stand of saplings. She ran full-tilt straight at Lobo, slammed her shoulder
into his, nearly knocking him over. As soon as he got his feet back under him,
Lobo jumped onto Sheena's back and started humping her. She whipped around and
flashed some seriously scary ivory at him, and they both collapsed in a
snarling heap. It looked as though they were killing each other, but they were
only playing. They both got to their feet at about the same time and stood
looking at Kathy and me.

"Sorry we took so long," Kathy said, still trying to catch her breath. "We sort
of got lost, or at least I did!"

"No problem," I said reassuringly. "Lobo and I were just having a cuddle. I
don't think he gets much of that without you-know-who getting jealous. Time to
head back, anyway, I think."

We found the trail again, and made our way back to the visitor area, this time
at a more reasonable speed. The wolf handler unhooked Sheena and Lobo and
chased them back into the enclosure. (The chase is part of the game, and they
love it!) She gave each of them a large dog biscuit. Sheena crunched hers right
away, while Lobo stood watching us with the biscuit hanging out of his mouth
and his tail wagging. Kathy and I said goodbye to the wolves, and walked
towards the parking area.

"See you here next time, maybe?," Kathy suggested. I nodded. "Could be!" Kathy
slipped off her jacket and tossed it onto the front seat of her car. I noticed
a small, oval pin on her blouse. A Zeta pin-a fellow zoo! There were a thousand
things I wanted to share with her, but the best I could come out with was,
"Interesting, ah, amulet you got there..." Kathy just smiled and repeated,
"Next time..."

===============================================================================

A new/old dog story?

Part 1

Here's a story I've had cluttering up my hard drive for a while. Maybe it's not
one of my better ones, but seeing as it's a slow night, I figured I'd share it.


Kaiser

A dog story by Dingo Jay

When I was in my early twenties, a young woman who I worked with began to show
a little interest in me. Jennifer was a petite brunette, attractive, and
pleasant. I had been advised by another woman in the office that Jennifer had
been asking a few questions about me, and suggested that I consider asking her
out. I asked, and she accepted. I took her to dinner and a movie a couple of
times, and also met her for drinks after work on several occasions. Jennifer
and I were seeing each other fairly frequently, and one day at work I offered
to buy us lunch.

"Well, OK, but I have to go home and walk my dog for a few minutes," she said.
"Maybe we could grab some sandwiches or something on the way, if you don't
mind."

"Sounds good to me," I replied. "You're always talking about your dog, and I've
been wanting to meet him anyway."

We got in my car and drove to the deli for sandwiches and drinks, and then to
Jennifer's apartment. We were met at the door by Jennifer's dog Kaiser, a
smallish, black-and-tan German Shepherd mix. He greeted her quite
enthusiastically, running circles around her and wagging his tail briskly. When
he spotted me, though, he stopped and sniffed my shoes and pants legs very
carefully.

"Oh, you have a dog too, I see," Jennifer observed. I can tell by the way he's
sniffing you!"

"Yeah, I sure do," I said, and proceeded to tell her all about Barney, my
Chesapeake Bay Retriever.

We walked Kaiser down a side street to a vacant lot that was overgrown with
grass and weeds, where Jennifer let the dog 'do his business'. We ate our
sandwiches and swapped dog stories along the way. Kaiser stopped several times
to lift his leg and pee against light poles and retaining walls. I'm an "animal
lover" in more ways than one, and I enjoy watching male dogs marking their
territory. I'd learned over the years to be discreet about it, and not let
other people catch me gawking at dogs' underparts. I noticed that in spite of
being rather small for a Shepherd, Kaiser was quite well hung!

Some weeks later, at the end of a busy day, I suggested to Jen that we go get a
bite to eat. "It's been a long day, and I really don't feel like going out,"
she sighed. "I don't feel much like cooking either. Let's get some take-out and
watch TV."


Part 2

I went to my place briefly and did dog maintenance, and I got to Jennifer's
apartment just as she was unlocking the door. "Jay, could you do me a favor?,"
she asked. "I've got to get to the bank before it closes, and I'll pick up some
Chinese take-out on the way back. Could you feed Kaiser and take him out for
me?"

"Sure, no problem... ," I replied. I heard Jennifer drive away while I mixed
the dog's food and put it down for him. As Kaiser finished eating and was
polishing his dish, I got an idea. "We're alone and she'll probably be gone for
a little while," I thought. "Might be a good chance for Kaiser and me to have a
quickie!"

I sat down on the floor with my back against the couch, and called Kaiser. He
ran right over to me, and seemed a little excited. I spent several minutes
gently stroking his ears and neck, and rubbing his chest. Then I looked under
him, and to my surprise, he was already showing some pink. I swear, somehow
they know who's a zoo! I petted him gently along his sides, down to his belly,
and finally stroked my fingertips along the side of his sheath. He raised his
leg to give me better access, as though he had some experience. I cupped my
hand around his growing knot, and squeezed it gently. He dribbled a little bit
of clear fluid on the floor. I leaned over to take him in my mouth, and with
practiced ease he put his front paws on the couch and slid that beautiful,
smooth pink penis into my mouth like he'd done it a hundred times before!

Kaiser began thrusting with his hips, slowly at first, then picked up speed as
he started squirting salty-sweet precum onto my tongue. I reached back with my
free hand and gingerly touched his balls, being careful as I knew some dogs
don't like to have them handled. He didn't seem to mind, so I gently fondled
and squeezed them. After a minute or so, I felt his muscles tense up for a
second or two, then relax as his small squirts changed to a flood of somewhat
bitter-tasting semen that left a tingling sensation in my throat. He only
lasted a few minutes before his knot shrunk away and his cock disappeared back
into his sheath. He ran over to the front door, and looked back at me over his
shoulder, with his ears back slightly, and a wide-eyed expression. "Sorry,
Bud... I forgot you haven't been out yet!" That's why he didn't last too long,
he had *other* things on his mind...

I snapped Kaiser's leash onto his collar and walked him across the parking lot
to the side street. As we walked, I popped a piece of spearmint chewing gum
into my mouth for obvious reasons! Kaiser seemed a little more relaxed than he
usually was on his walks, but I think he peed in about twice as many places as
he normally did. When he'd finished his business, we returned to the apartment
complex just as Jennifer was pulling into her parking space.

"You guys must have had a nice, long walk!," Jennifer remarked as we entered
her apartment. "Hope you worked up a good appetite!" She set down the large bag
from the Chinese restaurant, and opened a smaller bag, from which she removed
two large dog biscuits.


Part 3

She made Kaiser do all kinds of silly-ass tricks before she would give him the
biscuits. As well as being amused, I was getting more aroused every time she
made him roll over, giving me another peek at that fine set of equipment.
"There, those should keep him busy while we're eating, so he won't be begging
at the table," Jennifer explained as she put the biscuits on the floor in front
of Kaiser.

All evening, I did everything I knew how to do-without being too obvious, of
course-to suggest a roll in the sack might be a good idea. I figured if I could
get that far, maybe at a later date we might even involve the dog, if what I
suspected had, in fact, been going on between them. No such luck! Jennifer
politely suggested that it was getting late, and maybe I should be on my way...
The old "brush off!" I never did see her naked. If she was a zoo, she must have
been an exclusive. *Sigh...*

So here I was, hot to trot, and I got trotted right out the door. Damn! Well,
all was not lost. I still had my dog waiting for me at home. Barney met me at
the door, and sniffed me from head to toe. The best thing about having a canine
lover is that they don't get mad if they smell another dog on you, (usually!)
Sometimes it even seems to make them more horny. Barney just about dragged me
to our 'special place' and kept trying to mount me as I was getting undressed.
We had a fantastic romp, and Barney was almost insatiable! When he finally did
finish, and cleaned us both up, he pressed against my chest. I put my arms
around him, and told him he was a good dog and I loved him. Barney rested his
chin on my shoulder and we went to sleep. We stayed like that most of the
night.

I only saw Jennifer a couple more times after that, and rumors were circulating
around the office that she thought I had money, and lost interest when she
found out I didn't. Other rumors hinted at things she might have done with her
dog, and I had begun to believe at least some of them. We still sometimes
traded small talk, mostly regarding our dogs, but that was about all. The whole
episode wasn't a total loss-though I hadn't gotten anywhere with her, I at
least had done her dog! Now, almost twenty years later, if I'd so much as
suspected she might be a zoo, I probably wouldn't even have considered messing
with her dog, but at the time I didn't give it a thought. It's entirely
possible that she never touched him, but you never know...

===============================================================================

The Handyman: A Kinky Dog Story

Part 1

The couple of years after I graduated from high school were a strange time for
me. Though I was still welcome at my parents' home, I had decided to experience
life on the road first-hand. I purchased a large step van (the type sometimes
used to deliver bakery goods) for the princely sum of $180. I spent the next
couple of months fixing it up to be part mobile work shop, and part living
quarters. When I had finished it to my satisfaction, I loaded up my tools and a
few other belongings, and went on the road as a sort of itinerant handyman. I
traveled throughout New England and New York State taking work whenever and
wherever I could get it. I did anything from changing the faucet washers in
some old lady's kitchen sink, to helping dismantle the machinery in an old
industrial complex, and then knock down the building. Thinking back, it's hard
to believe how cheap I used to work. For example, I installed the plumbing and
electrical hookups for a washing machine, a two-hour plus job, and I charged
the lady ten bucks plus materials. Then I remember, this was the early '70s,
and $5 an hour was good money back then.

I took a job on Long Island replacing some badly corroded plumbing in the
kennel area of an animal shelter. As I was finishing up the project, I looked
over some of the "inmates", and suddenly I realized what I had been missing. I
had lived with one or more dogs for my entire life, and I really missed having
one around! There were seven or eight dogs in the care of the shelter at that
time, but one in particular caught my eye. He was a young, male Chesapeake Bay
Retriever, and he had a healthy, well-cared-for look, an almost regal
appearance compared to some of the scruffy-looking mutts in the other cages.
After putting away my tools and cleaning up, I went to the office and asked the
shelter manager what she could tell me about the Chessie. She told me he had
just come in that morning, his name was Barney (No, this was LONG before that
damned purple dinosaur!) and he was just under 3 years old. He had belonged to
a young couple who got divorced and had moved to separate apartments, neither
of which would allow dogs. He'd had some advanced obedience training, and even
had a CDX title, but they could not show me the paperwork, due to their policy
of anonymity. I followed the manager back to the kennel, she unlocked Barney's
cage and motioned for me to go inside with him. I turned over an empty bucket
and sat down to let him check me out. He sniffed me all over, and I held out my
hand to let him sniff it. Instead he slapped his front paw into it, and swished
his tail back and forth on the floor. I tickled him under the chin, and he
leaned over and rested his muzzle on my knee- I guess I was acceptable! We went
back to the office to do the paperwork. Because the manager liked the job I did
on the plumbing, she waived the $10 adoption fee, but she did charge me a $15
spay/neuter deposit, refundable if I showed a certificate from a Vet that I had
Barney neutered. Well, they ended up keeping their fifteen bucks, it was a
small price to pay for the pleasure Barney and I shared over the next eleven
years.

As Barney and I made our way to my truck, he trotted along nicely at my left
side, watching my face all the while. I was lugging all the stuff that went
with him, his collar and leash; a paper sack filled with an assortment of toys;
and one of those big, round pillow beds from L. L. Bean. Looking him over, it
was clear that he had led a pampered life. His nails were neatly trimmed, his
teeth were clean, and none of the hair was worn off his elbows, quite unusual
for a big dog. He had clear, gold-colored eyes, which were rather startling,
since most of the rest of him was a dark, rich chocolate brown- even his nose,
lips, and nails. His coat was kind of hard and wavy, especially on his sides;
but his face and ears were smooth and shiny. Now, I love animals, especially
dogs, in ways that most people don't even know exist. That is to say, I have
sexual feelings for them. As Barney sat quietly watching me put all his stuff
away in the truck, I couldn't help but notice how well-endowed he was. Not
especially big, just very nice. At a glance, I could see that he had the full
complement of equipment, two fair-sized balls in their furry brown sack, and
the end of his sheath showed just a bit of pink, probably from the excitement
of being sprung from 'jail.' I'm not at all gay as far as humans are concerned,
but a well hung doggy is really a big turn-on for me. I could have gone down on
him right then and there, but I decided we should get to know one another a lot
better before I tried anything like that.

I spent a week and a half knocking down a big, old chicken shed for an older
couple who were looking to sell their property, and they thought it would sell
faster without the dilapidated building on it. By this time, I'd had Barney
about three or four weeks, and he was pretty much getting used to the routine.
Stay someplace for a week or two, finish a job, move on. I think he kind of
liked moving around all the time, always a new place to explore, and new people
to meet. He was very friendly, and got along with just about everyone. Taking
down that hen house was a miserable, stinking (literally) job, and when I
finished it and got cleaned up, I decided to take a day or two off. It was a
Saturday evening, and Barney and I had just finished our dinner and we were
having a nice cuddle.

Barney was sitting in front of me, facing me, and doggy-grinning while I
ruffled the fur of his ears and neck. I glanced at his underparts, and I
noticed he was showing a lot of pink. I felt I knew him well enough by now that
I might check out his equipment and see what he had, and what he would let me
do with him. As I leaned over for a closer look, he stood up, placed a front
paw on my shoulder, and made some slight humping motions with his hips. Either
he'd read my mind, or he was having the same kind of thoughts about me! I got
on my hands and knees and butted him gently in the chest with my head. He
immediately slid up onto my back and began poking his cock at my face. I guided
his pointed tip into my mouth, and by this time he was humping briskly and
squirting little jets of precum onto my tongue. He gripped me tightly around my
chest with his front paws, and humped for a minute or so until he came with
hot, powerful spurts against the back of my throat. I squeezed his knot, still
in his sheath, in rhythm with his orgasm, and felt it expand to about the size
of a tennis ball. Barney was the first dog I'd had in almost a year, or the
first sex of any kind for that matter, and as I approached sensory overload, I
shot my own load in my pants.

Barney stayed with me for a good fifteen or twenty minutes, and he never tried
to dismount and turn around as many dogs do. He just stood there embracing me,
while he filled my mouth with his hot juices until he was drained. His penis
almost instantaneously went soft, and disappeared back into his sheath. He
yawned and stretched himself, and while he was down on his elbows, he happened
to get a sniff at my crotch. He seemed to be fascinated by the smell, so I
dropped my pants and shorts, and let him have his way with my privates. He did
a fair job of cleaning me up, and by the time he had finished, we were both
getting hard again. I gently rolled Barney onto his back, and stood over him on
my hands and knees while I sucked him again. He lapped and nibbled at the end
of my dick, and as he squirted a little more doggy-cum in my mouth, I rewarded
him with a little more of mine. After I made sure everything was properly put
away, we had another cuddle, and drifted off to sleep.

I quickly got so hooked on his cum that I was doing him three and four times a
night, and after a couple of weeks of that I realized I was getting practically
nothing out of him. I wasn't doing much better than that myself! I cut back to
about twice a week, and he (we) quickly recovered.

Part 2

I was young and crazy in those days, and a sizable chunk of my earnings went
for beer. I would hang out in seedy bars and roadhouses swilling the cheapest
draft I could find (does anyone else remember $1.50 pitchers?) which I
sometimes shared with the locals. If one of these locals happened to be female,
I might ask her to follow me back to my van. In many cases this resulted in a
slap in the face (or a kick in the balls!) As a horny 19-year-old, tactfulness
was not my strong suit, but once in a while I'd get lucky! I once met a girl in
her early 20's who worked on her father's garbage truck. Her name was Sandy and
she was built like a Warrior Princess how scary is that?! She was a redhead
tall, broad and muscular, but with a pair of boobs to die for! When, with
several empty pitchers in front of us, I made a lewd suggestion, she all but
dragged me to my truck! We were greeted at the door by Barney, and once she got
a look at him, she seemed to lose interest in me. She got down on her knees and
patted and tickled Barney, and talked baby-talk to him. He flopped over on his
back and lay there with a silly-ass doggy grin on his face, his tongue hanging
out the side of his mouth while Sandy rubbed his tummy. What a ham!

It didn't take Sandy long to discover Barney's prized possessions. She grabbed
him by the balls and said, "Y'know, if my ex-husband was hung like that, I
wouldn't have been so quick to throw him out!" Having had more than my fill of
cheap, poisonous alcohol I was in a boastful mood, so I pushed Barney's sheath
all the way back, exposing him in all his glory. "Check this out!"

Her eyes got big, and she hooted, "Wow! What a stud! Do ya' think he'd like me
to...? Naah."

"I dunno. Give him a try if you want to," I suggested. I thought she was just
going to play with him, but Sandy dropped her jeans and got down on all fours.
It wasn't but half a heartbeat before Barney was on (and in) her. There was no
doubt in my mind that he had done this before! He humped her for quite a long
time, and as he got to the short strokes, Sandy moaned, "Ohhh, Gawd! His knot's
in! I LOVE that! It's a big one, too! He's gonna tie with me!!"

Well, I guess he did, they stayed locked together for the better part of half
an hour. I just sat there like a rube with my mouth open. I'd heard stories,
but never thought I would see something like this for real! Barney must have
had her at least three times that night. I dozed off after a while, only to be
awakened to find them going at it again. I never did get my chance at her,
though I did end up getting a very thorough blowjobthis while she was being
humped by my dog!

When they finally took a break from it, Sandy asked me, "WOW! Did you train
this dog?"

"Hell, no!," I replied, "I never saw him do that before. He came from the
pound, so who knows what the other people did with him before I got him. Have
you done it with a dog before?"

"Yeah, my 'ex' had a Doberman. The guy was never home, so his dog used to get
more off me than he did. I wasn't sorry to see him go, but I sure miss that
mutt!"

I dozed off again. The next time I woke up it must have been about 3:30, and
Sandy was getting dressed. "Where are you goin' so early?" I asked her.

"Gotta go to work! What did you think?" Then she suddenly grabbed me by the
throat, and jacked me up against the cabinets. "I gotta tell you something, and
you better pay attention!" she snapped. "If you EVER tell anybody what happened
here tonight, I'm gonna kill you! Understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" I believed every word, she looked like she could have torn me
apart with her bare hands! She must have found it amusing, the way I wimped out
when she threatened me. She burst out laughing as she stepped out of the van,
and as she left, she yelled back at me, "See ya 'round, guy!" Barney was
crapped out in the corner, and I nudged him with my toe to see if he was still
alive. He got up and stumbled out of the truck, raised his leg and peed against
the tire for what seemed like a full minute. He curled up back in his previous
spot, and didn't move again until well after noon! I did see Sandy a couple
more times after that, but as soon as she spotted me, she turned away and sort
of hid her face, so I didn't push the issue. One time though, as she drove by
me in her garbage truck, I saw her licking her lips. She was looking at Barney
at the time, not me!

I moved on to New Haven, and took a job renovating apartments in an old
tenement building. Barney didn't like all the noise and plaster dust, so he
spent most of the day either in the truck, or sleeping in a small patch of
green grass that he found behind the building. There wasn't a campground much
closer than a half hour's drive away, so the building's owners let me stay in
the parking lot at night. One night, after I had been working there about two
weeks, a scrawny-looking teenage kid walked up to me as I was washing up
outside the truck. "Gimme a dollar," he demanded. "Yeah, right. Do I look like
I've got a dollar?," I protested. "Get lost!" Then the kid pulled out a beat-
up, small-caliber automatic pistol, and pointed it toward my face. He repeated
his demand. "I said, gimme a fuckin' dollar!"

Barney had been standing in the doorway of the van the whole time, watching. As
the kid threatened me with the gun, the big Chessie leaped about eight feet
straight out from the doorstep, striking the punk in the chest with his front
paws! The kid went over backwards, with the dog on top of him, but he didn't
let go of the pistol, even though Barney had his right arm in a death grip.
Suddenly the gun went off with a loud POP! and there was a lot of snarling, and
a ripping sound as the kid tore himself loose from Barney's grip. The punk
dropped the gun, and went to pick it up, but changed his mind when he saw it
was being guarded by a pair of snapping jaws! He finally gave it up for lost,
and disappeared into an alley, leaving a trail of blood drops behind him.

Barney shook himself, and started walking back toward the van. I had almost
decided he was OK when his legs just sort of crumpled up beneath him!
Horrified, I ran over to him to check him out. He had a small, round lump with
a bloody spot in the middle, on the left side of his chest where he had taken
the bullet. Thankfully, he was still breathing, and there wasn't much blood but
I had to find a vet, NOW! I ran inside the building to use the office phone,
but with the first two vets I called, I just got the answering service. The
third vet, Dr. S___, answered the phone himself, and told me to bring the dog
right in. I hastily carried Barney to the truck, not an easy task, as he
weighed close to 90 pounds. His breathing was fast and shallow, and he had a
weak, rapid pulse. He didn't have much time!

Dr. S___'s office was on the first floor of a run down two-story house near the
edge of town. The short, white haired gentleman met me at the door, and helped
me carry Barney to the table. After quickly listening to his chest, the vet
told me, "He's in pretty bad shape. It sounds like the bullet nicked his lung,
and he's got a lot of bleeding in there. I'm going to open him up right now,
but I won't promise you anything." I sat out in the waiting area for about
three hours, and about midnight, Dr. S___ came out and told me he thought
Barney might make it. "I repaired a tear in his left lung. He will need to be
kept absolutely still for several days, or he'll start bleeding again. He
should stay here in the hospital. He lost a lot of blood, and it will take some
time for him to get his strength back. Chessies are tough dogs, though, and I
think he ought to be ok."

I called the police from the vet's office, and told them what had happened.
They had found the teenage kid about a block and a half from the scene, passed
out from the pain and loss of blood. Normally, they would have had Barney
quarantined and probably destroyed, but under the circumstances, they decided
he probably wouldn't have bitten anyone had he not had a bullet in him. When
the docs in the emergency room put the kid's arm back together, they stopped
counting at 60 stitches.

For the next week, I couldn't wait for quitting time, so I could go and visit
Barney. for the first few days, he was sedated and pretty much out of it, but
later on he managed to find the strength to thump his tail for me a little. At
the end of a week, he was strong enough to take short walks outside, and the
following Saturday, he was released from the hospital. Dr. S___ told me that
Barney wouldn't be up to jumping in and out of the van, and riding around and
such for some time yet, and also... well, there was the matter of the bill! To
make a long story short, I left the apartment house project, and spent the next
month and a half fixing up Dr. S___'s house and office. It really needed a lot
of work, but Barney and I got to stay in a real room instead of the van. Barney
slowly but surely got his strength back, and the fur grew back on his chest
where he had been shaved. I really knew he was feeling better, though, when I
got up one morning and found him tied with the neighbors' Golden Retriever
bitch. They hadn't realized that she was in season- oops! Dr. S___ finally
decided that we had worked off our bill, so we said our good-byes and moved on
to the next job. That wasn't the last we saw of him, though. If Barney needed
shots or some other non-emergency stuff, that's where I always took him.

I joined a crew that was building a new wing onto a hospital near the
Massachusetts-Connecticut border, and this job paid some real money. I could
afford my own place now, so I rented a room in the home of an older lady. It
was about the only place I could afford that would let me have a dog. Claire,
my landlady, loved dogs, and she had Greta, a middle-aged, spayed German
Shepherd bitch who was rather fat and extremely horny. Barney was in love with
Greta, and it didn't seem to bother him that she was spayed. He humped her
constantly! I would often include Greta in the games I played with Barney,
partly because she turned him on, but I also loved tonguing her myself. She got
a little wet when I did that, and Barney then found her extra attractive. He
would jump on her and poke at her pussy, but being spayed she couldn't take
him. After a while he would give up on Greta, and jump on me instead! While
Barney was hammering away at my face, Greta would mount him and rub herself to
orgasm against the base of his tail.

I was sort of stuck in my room on a miserable, rainy Saturday night. I didn't
feel much like going out, partly due to the weather, and partly because I had
been out the night before and had spent too much money. Claire was watching a
lame sitcom on TV, with the sound turned up way too loud she was a bit hard of
hearing and Greta was asleep next to her. I had finished off one six-pack of
beer and was about to start the next one when Barney sat down in front of me,
and put one front paw on my knee. He had that now-familiar longing look on his
face, and he was showing a little pink. There was no room for doubt as to what
was on his mind! I thought about sucking him off, but changed my mind. I was
just about bored (and drunk) enough to try something new and extreme. I got off
my chair and sat on the floor in front of Barney, and ruffled his ears a
little. I briskly rubbed his chest between his front legs with the flat of my
hand, and he immediately started climbing up my arm, trying to mount me. I
grabbed his sheath and gave it a half-dozen strokes, and he dribbled a small
amount of precum on the floor. I then let go of his sheath and pushed him away.
Still humping slightly, he looked at me with a rather puzzled expression, and
let out a peculiar high-pitched growl of frustration.

I stripped off my jeans and shorts, and got down on my hands and knees on the
rug next to the bed. I guess Barney wasn't sure exactly what was going on, I
wasn't either. He took a few tentative licks at my dick and balls, until I
bumped him in the chest with my butt. At that point he seemed to figure out
what I wanted and slid up onto my back. He made some wild jabs in various
places until I took his cock in hand and guided it into my asshole. He gripped
my waist with his front legs so tightly that his dewclaws dug into my skin
somewhat, and he was thrusting so hard and fast that I was a little afraid he
would push me down! I had thought that by playing with him beforehand, I would
cause his knot to swell up enough to keep him from putting it into me. WRONG!
It must have shrunk somewhat while he was humping, and I was, I suppose, too
excited (or too drunk, or both...) to realize that he'd shoved it in to the
hilt. I could feel him pumping his juices into me, and that combined with the
sensation of the hot, nearly hairless skin of his lower belly against my bare
bottom is something that has to be experienced to be believed!

A short time later, I began to feel a mass expanding inside me. Barney's knot
continued to swell to the point of pain (mine), and beyond. I had heard that
one should never try to separate a dog and a bitch who had tied, for fear of
injuring them both, and I believed that warning applied here... I stood on all
fours in mortal agony for more than a half-hour while Barney pumped his load
into me. His knot finally began to subside, and for some strange reason the
sensation of him trying to pull out caused me to come incredibly hard. Of
course, upon feeling my orgasm Barney began a fresh volley of cum-spurts, and
knotted up for another ten minutes or so. He finally pulled free of me, and
wandered off to clean himself up. As I stood up I realized that I had just
received the equivalent of an enema, and I just barely made it to the bathroom!
That was my first and only anal experience with a dog... or anyone else! Though
I know a lot of people who love it, once was more than enough for me, thank you
very much! I felt as though I had soiled him, and it was a couple of weeks
before I could convince myself to take him in my mouth again.

After a couple of years on the road, the traveling (and damn near starving when
business was slow) was starting to get to me. I took a job with the telephone
company, and I wasn't allowed to have Barney in the company truck. I still did
handyman work on the side, so we still got around a little bit anyway. We moved
into a small house with a yard and some woods, and for Barney it was like
heaven. He loved exploring and chasing everything that moved, and peeing on
anything that didn't. We spent a lot of years there, enjoying each others'
bodies and sharing a few female friends, both human and canine. He always was
better at picking up girls than I was! He also seemed to have the ability to
pick out the ones who were a bit on the kinky side, so he'd have as good a
chance with them as I would.

Sorry to say, Barney is long gone. In some ways, it's regrettable that dogs
have such short life spans compared to humans. But looking on the bright side,
that way we can have quite a variety of them during our lifetime. I've heard it
said that every dog lover gets one really great dog during their lifetime, and
I guess Barney was mine. He was my best friend, my lover, and my protector.
I'll never forget him.

===============================================================================

So, you think zoos should get help...? (story)

Part 1

This story is a departure from my usual fare; that is, zoo-ish love and sex
with canines. In fact, there is no real sex here at all. This is a story about
a friend I had all through grade school, and into Junior High (currently called
Middle School). For the privacy of his family, I'll call him Kevin. This is a
true story about what can happen to a zoophile at the hands of the Mental
Health establishment. A word of warning is in order, this story may be very
disturbing to some.

-Dingo Jay

Kevin was an average kid in most respects, from a hard-working, middle-class
family in the industrial Midwest. He went to public school and got halfway
decent grades. He wasn't overly popular in school, but he had a small circle of
friends including myself. Both he and I (and most of our other friends, now
that I think about it) were what would now be described as "nerdy" kids. We
would more likely be found staying inside during recess to finish a science
experiment, or perhaps a checkers game, than joining a basketball or baseball
game on the playground. In those days, I was a little fat kid with glasses, the
type every school has, and a favorite target of bullies. Kevin was somewhat
bigger and more athletic than I, so he was a help in fending them off.

Kevin and I shared a number of interests; we would often team up on a project
such as dismantling some old, discarded mechanical gadget to figure out how it
worked, and we both dabbled in photography as much as our allowances would
allow. We even pooled our resources to set up a crude but functional black-and-
white darkroom in his parents' cellar. Toward the end of fifth grade, I began
to find out that we shared another interest that would become a deep, dark
secret for both of us. School had finished up for the day, but since the county
couldn't afford enough busses to take everyone home at once, they ran them in
shifts. This meant that some kids who lived closer to the school had to wait
thirty minutes or so for a second-run bus or else walk home. Kevin and I were
in that group, and since we lived a little more than a comfortable walk from
school, we hung around the school grounds until the late bus arrived. This
particular afternoon, we decided to explore the sparse woods just beyond the
edge of the playground. The area was strictly off-limits, but that's just an
invite to a pre-teen kid. As we walked along the well-worn paths we were joined
by one of the neighborhood mutts, a beagle-type mixed breed. This dog spent a
lot of time on the playground, and everyone knew he was friendly. Kevin
suddenly veered of the path and sat down on a large, flat rock. He clapped his
hands and whistled a little, and the dog came to him, wagging his tail. He
rubbed the dog's neck and shoulders, and in no time the dog flopped over on his
back in Kevin's lap.

"Hey Jay, come here! You wanna see something neat?" Kevin called to me.

"What is it?"

"Just come here and see!"

As I approached the place where Kevin sat with the dog sprawled in his lap, he
reached down and grabbed the dog's sheath, and slid it back, exposing the
penis. Just sort of "flashed" it, really, then slipped it forward again. I had
always been fascinated by animals' genitalia for some reason, but we had had a
small, female dog as long as I could remember, and I had never been in a
situation to examine a male.

"Hey, cool! Can I try it?" I asked.

Kevin shrugged. "Sure. Cody doesn't mind, do you Cody? Just be careful you
don't hurt him."

I took Cody's sheath between my fingers, and after a few tries exposed him for
a good, close look. That was my first exposure to a male canine, and the
beginning of an attraction that continues to this day. I suspect it wasn't the
first time Kevin had done this.

The 'dog incident' never seemed to come up in conversations between Kevin and
me, it seemed as though to him, it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing. I
thought about it from time to time, but never acted on it until some time
later. When we were about 14, we were walking home from school one afternoon,
and Kevin found a tattered porn magazine in the ditch. As we sat on the edge of
the road and thumbed idly through the pictures of "T and A" and the split-
beaver shots, Kevin asked me,

"You get laid yet, Jay?"

"Do what?"

"Have you gotten laid? You know, screwed someone."

"Um, no... You?"

"Well, you gotta keep it a secret..."

"OK. Who was it, Cathy?"

"No. It was Bonnie."

"Bonnie? Who's she?"

"Bonnie's my dog, dummy!" Kevin had a large, female Collie who I knew fairly
well, and she was a sweet, gentle dog.

"Kevin, you screwed a dog? Bullshit!"

"No, really... I did it!"

"Really? What was it like?"

"It felt kinda weird the first time, but after that it was great!"

"Shit, man. You did it more than once? You're crazy... you're gonna get in
trouble!"

"Naw... I did it in my room, when no one was home. She let me, I think she
likes it."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Bullshit. I still don't believe you. Show me!"

"Hell, no! I'm not doin' that in front of God and the world. You just have to
take my word for it, Jay!"

"Yeah, right. Aren't you the same guy that told me you had a cherry '57 Chevy
in your barn? Well, you didn't!"

"Oh, that." Kevin grinned sheepishly. "That's just a story I told Bennet and
those guys. You knew it was BS."

"Sure. I gotta go, see you tomorrow."


Part 2

I didn't know whether to believe him or not. Kevin had a habit of telling me
some pretty outrageous tales, just to see my reaction. Somehow, though, he
seemed sincere this time. I thought about it from time to time, but I didn't
really dwell on it. Eventually, I dismissed it as another of his tall tales,
and all but forgot about it.

Summer vacation came and went. I had seen Kevin a few times at the beginning,
but after that, not at all. I figured he was away somewhere with his folks.
When school started up again, Kevin was nowhere to be seen, and the teachers
didn't call his name at roll call. I asked some classmates in the hallway what
had become of him.

"Where's Kevin?"

"Didn't you hear?" one of them replied. "He got arrested!"

"For what?"

"He got caught screwing a dog. And a chicken."

A chill ran down my spine. "What did they do to him?"

"What do you think? They threw him in the booby hatch!"

"Shit. That sucks. When are they gonna let him out?"

"Never, I hope. Can't have weirdos like that running around loose."

I decided I'd better not try asking his parents for any details. My mother was
fairly good friends with Kevin's mom, so I asked her if she knew anything. She
reluctantly gave me some sketchy details, Kevin was in the State Hospital, and
he probably would be for some time. She wouldn't say for what. Could he have
visitors? No, just family. I tried writing him several times, but he only
replied once, sort of. It was a barely coherent note scrawled in purple crayon.
Something about how bad the food was, and the room was too hot, or whatever. I
couldn't even be sure he wrote it.

After eight years, Kevin was pronounced "cured" and released from the State
Hospital. A condition of his release was that he have a job. As you might
expect, the only job he could get was sweeping up at the local grocery store
for two dollars an hour. Still, he managed to get a tiny apartment downtown,
and saved enough to buy himself a battered, old pickup truck. I rummaged around
in my junk boxes at work, and cobbled together a more or less working CB radio
for his truck, and we enjoyed chatting back and forth while I was on my way
home from work.. One afternoon I heard Kevin on the CB, and gave him a shout.

"Hey, Grey Ghost... How about you stop over my place, and we'll pop a couple of
brown bottles, ten-four?" (In case you weren't around for the CB craze of the
1970's, I was offering to share some beers...)

"You bet, J.D. See you in a few!"

A few minutes later, I heard Kevin's rusty pickup rattle up my gravel driveway,
and the door slamming. My two dogs woofed a bit, then trotted to the screen
door to greet him. As they put their paws on the screen, grinning and wagging
their tails, Kevin threw his arm in front of his face and jumped back about
three feet. He seemed terrified of them!

I took the dogs by their collars and led them out the back door, while Kevin
kept shouting, "No! Down! Get away!"

After a few beers, I asked Kevin, "Man, what's happened to you? You used to
love dogs! Now you're afraid of Billie and Randy, and they're just little
guys!"

Kevin looked somewhat pale as he fumbled for a cigarette. "No... it's OK... I
mean... it's the treatments I had..."

"Good God, Kevin. What did they do to you in there?"

With that, Kevin proceeded to unfold a disjointed, yet chilling tale about
electrodes attached to his testicles, being shown pornographic images mostly
animals with humans and receiving powerful electric shocks if he got even
slightly aroused. About being beaten and molested by other patients as well as
staff members. About being drugged into a stupor for days or weeks at a time,
while strapped to a bed or a chair. More torture than treatment, like something
directly from A Clockwork Orange! It still makes my blood run cold to think
about it. Kevin said nothing more, he just finished his beer and left. It
freaked me out so badly, I called him from work the next morning to make sure
he hadn't hurt himself.

Surprisingly, a year or so later Kevin turned up with a live-in girlfriend. A
human one! She had an infant daughter, though it was never really clear (to me)
whether the child was Kevin's or not. I read in the paper some months later
that Kevin had been arrested again, this time for allegedly molesting the
child. The article said that tests conducted by a pediatrician were
"inconclusive," and for some reason the report had been ordered sealed by the
State's Attorney. Kevin was being held without bail... at the State Hospital.

I made plans to visit him the next day to find out if it was true. I needn't
have bothered, since I got a call that night from Kevin's mother. Kevin had
hanged himself in his cell, from a combination wash-up sink and toilet, with
his own trousers. No one saw anything, heard anything, did anything, nor gave a
damn.

This is why I scoff when someone attacks us in a zoo forum insisting that we
"Get help!" If this is 'help,' I cringe at the thought of what 'punishment'
would be like. I sometimes hear it said that there is a lesson behind every
tragedy. If there is a lesson, or even any meaning, to Kevin's death, it
escapes me, even after more than twenty years.

(c)1999 by Dingo Jay. Please do not repost without my permission:
dingo.jay@iname.com