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From: Dingo Jay <dingo.jay@iname.com (removethis.)>
Subject: The Handyman (Bestiality; Man and Woman / Dog)
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***WARNING***
The following story contains graphic descriptions of unusual sexual
practices, in this case sexual relations between humans and animals.  If
you are under-age or feel you might be offended by such material, please
DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER!!

(c)1998 by Dingo Jay.  May be re-distributed on other newsgroups or free
sites.  NO FOR-PROFIT USE!!

Fiction.  Any similarity to actual persons or events is coincidental.

The Handyman   -A Kinky Dog Story by Dingo Jay

 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.

 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 blowjob—this 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.


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