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From: "rache" <rache696@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Practical Women (F/Dog, Romance) by Rachael Ross
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Date: Thu, 14 Sep 2006 09:10:03 -0400
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Practical Women
Copyright 2006 Rachael Ross all rights reserved
Story Codes: F/Dog, Romance, Consensual

Note: This is intended to be a chapter one of several, but I cannot
commit myself to anything much longer than this as I'm already
stretched thin, so for right now, it will necessarily have to stand on
its own. I just had the idea this morning and I wanted to get it down
before I forgot what it was. It's unedited too, as always...sigh. -rr


Practical Women
By rache


"There she is." My dad smiled and opened his arms, offering himself
to me as soon as I stepped out of the car. I gave him a big hug and he
kissed me on the forehead. "Christine..." He murmured, "...we
missed you."

"Oh, I was so worried. They said there was a lot of snow in the
passes." My mom was right there too and worrying was her job. "You
should have taken an airplane."

"Hi mom." I hugged her tight and kissed her cheek. "It was okay,
I got through alright."

"Welcome, home dear." Mom kissed me again, smiling and happy, as we
all were. "Come on, let's go inside. I fixed everything up, just
like it used to be."

"She fixed everything up six years ago." My dad chuckled. He was
tall and a little overweight, but that was okay. He was sixty on the
button and he deserved a little padding. It looked good on him. He
worked for the Post-Intelligencer, one of the copy editors and I'd
gotten my love of words from him.

"Oh." Mom rolled her eyes a little. I'd gotten my looks from her
and a lot of people, older friends and relatives said I could have been
her sister thirty years ago. She was still a good looking woman, even
at 56 and while her once lustrous black hair had now gone to gray,
mom's bright blue eyes were still clear and full of life.

My own hair was short, cut above the collar of my old leather jacket
and tucked back behind my ears. I thought it looked nice, but I knew
mom would say something. She'd always kept my hair long when I was
growing up. I had the same blue eyes and a toned firm body. I was
naturally athletic, but I never pushed it or anything, I liked being a
girl and a lot of other people liked it too, but that was neither here
nor there. I was attractive, I knew, but it was purely accidental so
far as I was concerned, and that was something my mom would never
understand.

I was 24 and coming home for the first time in a long time, and for
more than a few days. I'd been living and working in Chicago mostly,
but I missed Seattle, and with royalties from my first book added to
the advance on my new book, I could afford to write wherever I wanted.
That was one of the good things about being a little successful; it
afforded me some freedom for a change.

"Let me get my stuff." I said, turning back to my car.

"Oh leave it, come inside and relax for a little bit." Mom told me.
"You had a long drive and all by yourself too. What kind of car is
that?" She frowned a little. "It doesn't look very practical."

"Uh, well..." I laughed self-consciously, "...it isn't, mom. I
have to get Brandon anyway." I smiled. "I wasn't really by
myself."

"Who's Brandon?" My dad looked at me and then at my mom, and then
they both looked at my little black Porsche.

"My boyfriend." I said with a giggle, just teasing them a little.

I opened the passenger door a few seconds later and Brandon practically
knocked me down as he got out. He hated sitting in the car by himself
and he ran around the yard, just stretching his legs, while I reached
behind the seats to grab my purse and my gym bag with my essentials in
it. Everything else could wait.

"Oh my." Mom said and she looked a little nervous as I walked back
up the few short steps from the driveway. "He's big."

Brandon was still enjoying himself, getting familiar with the big front
yard while my parents watched him. He was pretty big, I suppose,
although I hardly noticed it really. He was a three year old Boxer and
very handsome in my opinion, almost noble when he wasn't fooling
around. He weighed as much as I did, just a little over a hundred
pounds, probably even a little more than me, since it was about
impossible to get him on a scale or anything. But he was somewhat
shorter of course, just standing there at least. When he was up on his
hind legs he was a little taller though, and I liked that a lot. Brandy
was strong too, not a lot of fat, even though I spoiled him constantly,
and his short hair black hair seemed to ripple over his powerful
muscles as he moved. I stood there watching him with my parents,
feeling very proud of him.

"When you said you had a dog, I didn't know you meant a horse."
My dad shook his head.

"Does he bite?" Mom was going into full tilt worry mode.

"No, of course not." I gave her a little look of annoyance that she
didn't notice. "Brandy, come here boy." I called and he was
immediately running over. "Sit." I told him and he did, even though
he didn't want to. "Good boy." I smiled and rubbed his neck.

"Well, uh, he's trained anyway." My dad offered mom, then he
looked at me. "Right?"

"Oh yeah, Brandon's really good. He'll be fine, I promise." I
smiled at my parents, trying to reassure them. "He rolls over and
everything." I giggled, but mom wasn't laughing.

They'd never been much for dogs, or animals of any sort really. I'd
grown up living in the upper-middle class suburbs of Seattle and having
a dog shouldn't have been a big deal, but my parents had never gotten
one, no matter how much I'd cried when I was younger. So they might
have been thinking this was my revenge, coming home after six years and
bringing a rather large dog with me, but it wasn't. Not at all. It
was just the way things had worked out.

"Well, um, okay." My mom finally smiled, weakly, and tried to make
the best of it. "Let's go inside, it's getting chilly."

Brandon followed me, naturally, and I expected my parents to say
something when I let him come into the house, but they didn't. They
just gave me some funny looks, like I should have known better.

"He'll be fine." I said. "He won't get on the furniture or
anything, I promise. He can sleep in my room; you won't even know
he's around, seriously. He's a good dog." I'd actually worked
out a little speech for that situation, knowing it was going to come
up, but I'd forgotten most of it. I was relying more on my parents'
happiness to have their only child home again, than any argument I
might make to let me keep my dog. But I did feel like I was 13 again,
coming home with a stray.

We had some coffee in the kitchen, a little bit of pumpkin pie with
whipped cream, because I did love that stuff a lot. Thanksgiving had
always been my favorite holiday, just because I could eat as much
pumpkin pie as I wanted. I still could, probably. My metabolism was
pretty extreme, but mom was giving me a look, so I ate my piece slowly,
knowing I couldn't have seconds.

"You're so thin! Isn't Chrissie thin Robert?" Mom was frowning
and that makes no sense, I know, considering her opinion on pie. But
that was my mom, I couldn't win.

"Oh, not so bad." Dad smiled at me, knowing mom would have said I
was thin if I'd come home weighing 200 pounds and dressed in a purple
muumuu.

"So, do you have a boyfriend?" Mom asked, glancing at Brandon who
was sitting next to me with his big square head in my lap. "A real
one?"

"Ummm..." I sighed. "No, not a real one." I shrugged. That was
always a sticky point.

Mom and dad had married sort of late, in their thirties, and I think
mom always regretted that a little, like she missed some years she
might have spent with her husband if they'd married sooner. But of
course she hadn't even known dad when she was in her twenties and
there was an abstract argument there, about waiting for the right man
at the right time, but mom never really listened anyway. She was always
the practical woman, except when it came to me and my love life. Or
maybe just me.

"Don't you worry about it, Chris." Dad shrugged, as if I were the
one worrying. "There's plenty of time for that."

I think dad might have been a little worried that I was a lesbian or
something, although he'd never say anything of course. But the fact
was that I'd never had a boyfriend, even in high school. I'd had
boy friends, but never the real deal, and that was suspicious,
especially for an attractive intelligent girl like me. My haircut,
leather jacket, black hipsters, and Porsche probably weren't helping
either. Not to mention my dog.

I'd had offers from guys, to be sure, and sometimes I was even
tempted, but the few dates I'd gone on hadn't done a whole lot for
me. They may have been fun occasionally, but usually I ended up wishing
I'd done something a little more constructive that evening, like
homework, or painted my toenails maybe. I'd gone out with a girl too,
just once, just in case I was a lesbian because I seriously didn't
know, and it had felt about the same as going out with a man. So, I had
no real answers for my parents, one way or the other, even if they'd
known what to ask.

"Yeah, I'm sure Prince Charming is out there someplace." I smiled
and fed a little pie to Brandy with my fork, letting him lick it clean
for a second before I used it to cut another small bite for myself.

"Uh, dear..." Mom pursed her lips.

"Oh." I laughed a little, even though my mouth was full of pie. I
swallowed quickly. "Its okay mom, he's had his shots and
everything." I hadn't really thought about it, Brandon and I shared
the same forks and spoons all the time, but I reminded myself that my
parents weren't quite so fond of him as I was, at least not yet.

I hadn't been around for much more than a couple holidays here and
there since I'd left for college when I was eighteen. So we had a lot
of catching up to do. I'd called often enough, and my dad was one of
the last of the great letter writers, but it wasn't the same as
sitting face to face. I told them about Harvard, but that was really
old news and they'd come out for my graduation anyway, spending a
weekend in Cambridge. It was a good place to start though, especially
since dad was very proud of me for that.

Inevitably the conversation came around to my book, which I'd
expected a little sooner actually, but was happy to put it off as long
as I could.

"I read your book, dear." Mom was nodding, which was so completely
at odds with her opinion that it was perfect. "I didn't understand
it."

"Sex and the Practical Woman?" Dad chimed in. "What does that
mean?"

I narrowed my eyes at dad, expecting a little better from him at least.
I'd written a novel, my first, and it was about a girl coming of age,
falling in and out of love while she attends college. It wasn't
autobiographical or anything, it was just a book and the title...

"It's a contradiction, dad. Sex is rarely practical and the story
is about how we have to grow and evolve and adjust to the persons we
become. Did you read it?" I asked him.

"I read it." He nodded. "It was good, you have real talent, I
just..." he sort of gestured helplessly and I smiled.

"Well, you're not exactly my target audience, dad." I reached
over and patted his hand.

"I thought it was pornographic." Mom said, never one to mince words
on a subject like that, but it did hurt a little.

"There's no sex in it, mom." I said. "Just...the reasons for
it. I tried to describe why this girl was having sex, when she was
looking for love and..."

"She was playing with herself." Mom said and I seriously doubted
the woman had ever masturbated in her life, which wasn't a thought I
wanted very much.

I wasn't getting through to my mom at all. Any book which had a whole
chapter devoted to a 19 year old masturbating in a bathtub while
remembering her very first kiss had to be pornographic, no matter how
beautifully written it was.

"Girls do that, mom." I sighed. "Oprah liked it." But mom
wasn't a big Oprah Winfrey fan either, even though she should be.
Being called '...the best new author in a generation' had been good
for an extra month or two on the NY Times Bestseller List.

"What's your next book going to be?" Dad asked, trying to change
the subject without really changing it very much at all.

"Well, my publisher wants me to do a follow-up, you know, stick with
what works, but I'm kind of undecided." I shrugged. "I'd kind
of like to do something a little more personal maybe."

My first book had been extremely personal, but not for any obvious
reasons. I couldn't tell mom that though or she would have assumed
the worst, that I wasn't her perfect little virgin anymore. I'd
spent a lot of time on the phone when my book first came out, trying to
convince her that the character in my book wasn't me, at least in so
far as having sex was concerned. Mom wanted to believe that, which
helped quite a bit. I hoped that saying I wanted to get more personal
would reinforce the idea a little more.

I'd actually started outlining my next novel, in my head mostly as
I'd drove halfway across the country. Later, as I tried to relax in
some anonymous motel room, I'd put my thoughts in my laptop. It
wasn't much, but that's the way it starts for me. I even had a
working title that I liked: 'Practically Love' but as I sat there
talking with my parents, facing my mom, I thought 'Practical Women'
might be better. It made me smile at least, although I tried to hide
it.

So..." Dad looked at me.

"So, I don't know." I shrugged. "That's why I'm here. I
want to sleep in my old bed, look at my old stuff, and just think for a
little bit, you know?"

"Well, it's all up there." Mom said, relaxing just a little maybe
and reminding herself that at least I was home to stay for awhile.
"Why don't you lie down for a bit; your father can get the rest of
your bags."

I nodded and went upstairs feeling more than a little relieved that my
homecoming had gone as well as it had. Between my book and my dog there
was plenty of room for the same old problems. Mom had waited a long
time for a daughter and she'd spent most of my life trying to perfect
me, it wasn't like she was going to stop just because I was 24 now. I
hoped that I'd asserted myself enough to show her I wasn't a little
girl anymore, but I doubted it. I'd found myself slipping into my old
self a few times, and she was just taking it easy until I was really
settled in, dropping hints like seeds. Doubtless she'd reap the
harvest when the time was ripe.

I rolled my eyes at myself, undressing in my old bedroom. I was being a
little over melodramatic, I was sure. I was just nervous, that's all.
I stretched, still feeling a little tense from too many hours on the
road. The Porsche was a nice car, I loved it, and I'd spent most of
my first royalties check buying it, but for 3 eight hour days in a row,
it was just too darned small.

"Hey!" I grinned at Brandy who was licking my right hip, looking
for attention. His long rough tongue tickled and I pushed him away
playfully. I'd named him Brandon because he looked a little like
Brendan Frazier, whom I'd always found incredibly attractive, but
I'd taken to calling him Brandy, so his name changed just slightly,
and that was okay. If I ever had a female I'd name her Brenda, maybe.

There was a soft knock and I grabbed my old bathrobe, hanging on the
little brass hook on the back of the door, as if I'd left it there
yesterday. It smelled clean and fresh and I imagined my mom had washed
everything when she'd heard I was coming home, probably two or three
times. It still fit me pretty good too, but I'd stopped growing when
I was about 17 anyway.

"What have you got in here? Rocks?" Dad smiled at me, hefting my
suitcase in one hand and my laptop case in the other. The computer was
what he was talking about, the thing weighed a ton.

"My next book, dad." I laughed and moved out of the way so he could
bring my stuff inside. "Thanks."

"No problem, I needed the exercise." He looked around.
"Everything okay in here?"

"Yep." I nodded, looking around too. "Just perfect."

"Good." He gave me a hug. "Don't worry about your mom."

"Oh, I'm not." I patted him on the back. "We'll be fine."

"I know." He took a deep breath and let me go. "I thought your
book was really good."

"Did you?" I smiled and he gave me a sincere look, nodding his
head.

"Go ahead and get settled, we'll go out to eat tonight, okay?"

"Sure dad, I'm gonna take a shower and lie down a little bit, I
think." I followed him to the door, closing it behind him and then
waiting for a good 10 seconds before I locked it. My shower could wait,
I needed to relax first, and so did Brandy.

My room wasn't overly large, but it was good sized. One of the perks
of being an only child maybe. I had plenty of room, even with my big
canopy bed, draped with pink satin curtains and tied with burgundy
bows. I had a large dresser with a big mirror, a small vanity, desk and
bookcase, all from the Ethan Allen Collection. Timeless and
ridiculously heavy furniture that tended to sit where it was planted
for years at a time. But it was very comfortable and nice to look at
too.

Everything in the room, from the chintz wallpaper to the matted and
framed pictures of horses and seascapes on the wall, screamed repressed
youth. I'd grown up in a museum, I thought, or on the set of a
1950's sitcom, like Father Knows Best or something. It was vaguely
depressing and I remembered putting up a poster of the Smashing
Pumpkins once when I was 16 and my mom throwing a small fit over it.
The cover of Siamese Dream was not something that belonged on her
daughter's bedroom wall.

I smiled to myself, looking around and deciding that I'd have to go
to the mall soon and find that exact same poster. It wouldn't come
down this time, I giggled softly. This had been the room I'd slept in
for some 18 years, but now that I was home I was finally going to make
it mine. Just a little.

"Okay, boy." I smiled at Brandon who was sticking his nose under
the hem of my terry cloth robe, licking at my skin and working his way
up my thigh. "Let's play." I said softly and he knew what that
meant and answered me with a sharp bark. "Quietly!" I chided him,
getting on my bed and fluffing the pillows a little. "Okay, come
on..." I patted the thick comforter with it's cream colored lilies
on baby blue water.

Brandy jumped up, the bed bouncing slightly, but quiet as ever. Old
Ethan knew how to build a bed and it had hardly squeaked at all when I
was a child, no matter how hard I'd jumped on it. I'd always
appreciated that and now more than ever.

"Come here, big boy...Mmmm..." I'd undone my robe, but left it on
while Brandy straddled my body. He was used to the things I liked,
which were varied, but this was a favorite. I pulled him down on top of
me, so his soft warm chest was against my stomach and his neck began
rising just between my soft round breasts, only slightly flattened as I
lay there. His paws were on either side of my ribs, and his back end
between my wide spread legs.

"There we go, good boy..." I stroked his back with one hand and
brought the other up his powerful neck, pulling his head down to me.
"Kiss me, Brandon..." I breathed and then sighed as his tongue
reached out to find my face. I opened my mouth, sticking out my own
tongue to find his, playing gently and inviting him to kiss me the way
I liked.

It wasn't long before Brandon's tongue was inside my mouth, his big
long snout against my cheeks and lips as we kissed. I sucked his
tongue, which always annoyed him a little and he'd pull it back, but
then a second later it would return. It was a fun game and I warmed up
immediately, my body flushing beneath him. I moved my hands up and down
his back and shoulders and neck, gripping and releasing him. I loved
the feel of his rough tongue in my mouth, the way it just seemed to
fill me completely, and I was swallowing around it as my mouth filled
with our saliva.

I could sense, more than feel my sex growing hot and moist. Brandy's
soft stomach was against my vulva as I lifted myself against him, just
a little, tilting my hips to feel his soft fur across my clit. I was
coming alive down there, waking up quickly to a warm fire and it was
nice. I moved my legs, stroking Brandon's flanks with my thighs, back
and forth and that helped too, moving my hips naturally so that my sex
was soon tingling with excitement.

We could have done many things, Brandon and I, and we enjoyed them all,
but I wanted him inside me. I hadn't made love to him in nearly a
week and I'd been missing it. But mostly I wanted to do something
I'd never even dreamt of, or at least never seriously considered
possible...I wanted to make love to my boyfriend in my own bedroom, in
my own bed. With my parents blissfully unaware downstairs, that was
even better. It was the thought that had been driving me across the
endless interstate, that more than any other. Making love with my dog,
my one true love, in the one best place in the whole world, that was
going to rock my world.

"Up baby, come on..." I was whispering to him, coaxing Brandy to
move. He knew how to do it. I'd had him since he was 4 months old and
I'd taught him deliberately well just for this.

Brandon moved forward, not quite rising to his feet, but more shuffling
awkwardly up my body until my chin was pressed to the soft hair of his
chest. His penis was against my vagina, still sheathed, but not for
long as he heard my whispered urgings and felt the humidity radiating
from my hungry sex. He could smell me as well and he knew what I
wanted; I didn't have to do a thing but hold him and kiss his fur,
waiting for it.

The tip emerged and I couldn't see it, but I could feel it and I knew
exactly how it would look. Pink at first, growing darker and reddish as
it pushed outward. The tip tapered slightly, almost flat, but angled
for penetration. He was wet and precum fell across my sex as I adjusted
my hips, grunting slightly beneath the animal's weight, making sure
the tip of his penis found the soft folds of my pussy. It was like
magic this way and all I had to do was make sure we were lined up. As
Brandy's cock slipped a few inches from its sheath the tip was
pressing between my labia, and as soon as he felt that Brandy's cock
grew quickly, expanding inside me until he had no choice but to push.

"Ummm...." I sighed as Brandon gave a little thrust with his hips.
He didn't really have the best position for mating with me, not
enough leverage because I was holding him close, but it was enough. He
worked his cock inside me quickly, stretching my pussy around the odd
shape of his cock. It was thickest in the middle, like a long
over-stuffed sausage, and narrowing at the ends. He was big too, very
big, and while I'd never had a man this way, I was reasonably sure
Brandy was as large as most men, perhaps even larger.

I was the one doing most of the work, lifting my hips to working
Brandy's cock inside me, not so much in and out, as just back and
forth a few inches at a time. He was completely inside me and content
that way, although once in awhile he'd whine softly, or move as if to
get up. But I held him and whispered to him, stroked his body and
worked my hot sex around his cock. We could do this for a long time, as
long as an hour, although I was usually exhausted long before then.
Once I found the right angle, the right rhythm, I would start cumming
and then I usually didn't stop cumming until I had to stop, my body
becoming too sensitive for even Brandon's soft fur against my skin.

"Mmmm..." I was biting my lip and arching my back, tilting my head
as I felt the first waves of pleasure building inside me. This wasn't
taking long at all and I almost wished I wasn't cumming so quickly,
just so I could enjoy the buildup a little more.

"Ohhh...good...ummm yeah..." I held Brandy tight, breathing through
my open mouth and then swallowing hard, gasping softly as his thick
hard cock worked itself against the walls of my pussy. I could feel my
muscles contracting around him, my body seeming to tighten briefly and
then relax with little spasms of pleasure.

"Okay baby...ohhh kay..." I'd had a cum, a nice little one and I
was seconds away from another. Brandy wanted to fuck me, I knew. He was
restless and complaining with soft growls deep in his throat. I
didn't really want to move, but he deserved it. He'd been stuck in
that little car too and he'd been so patient with me.

I pushed him off, feeling his long cock slide out of my sex and leaving
me aching and empty inside. There was a wash of wetness as well, making
a large dark wet spot on my comforter, but I was used to such things. I
moved so I was laying on the bed with my pussy even with the side of
the mattress, my legs spread with my heels perched on the edge.

"Come on, up Brandy...come here..." I breathed and that was all it
took. Brandon was aroused and eager and he knew exactly what we were
doing. He jumped up with his front paws on the bed, straddling my body,
and brought his cock to my waiting sex. It was better like that for
him, and more than perfect for me as I reached down to find his jabbing
penis and guide it to my slippery hole. He was hot and heavy and wet,
his cock so large in my hand that my fingers wouldn't go all the way
around him. It always amazed me how something so large could fit inside
me so well, but it did.

As soon as Brandy felt my pussy accepting the tip of his cock he
started pushing, wasting no time or effort on being gentle. He fucked
me hard right from the start, slamming his cock into the deepest part
of my vagina and giving me a sudden jolt of discomfort as my pussy was
split. But I didn't mind it at all, I just bit my lips and held his
neck, urging him on. I hooked my legs around him as well, riding his
back as Brandy started pumping my pussy fast. He was panting above me,
his mouth open and long pink tongue hanging out, dripping saliva onto
my face.

I was cumming wildly within a few moments of the animal's entry,
whimpering and fighting to stay quiet as my orgasm brought my body to
desperate life. I was pulling at the dog, trying to lift my hips to
meet his thrusts, and using my hands and legs to pull him even deeper.
The tip of his cock was right there at the very entrance to my womb,
touching the bottom of my sex occasionally and sending small lightning
bolts of almost painful pleasure through my body.

And the knot was coming, I reminded myself dimly, it was there,
pressing against my sex, trying to get it. I pulled Brandy hard,
begging him to do it, to fuck me harder and get that large ball of
muscle inside me before it got really big. That was always the
challenge, getting the knot inside me because if he didn't penetrate
me enough, if we waited to long, it would swell up to something the
size of grapefruit, maybe even bigger than that, and it was just
impossible to get it inside. It was still good, and maybe even easier
on me in some ways, but it just didn't give me that same sense of
satisfaction I got when we were well and truly locked up.

As it was he was already big enough so that it was uncomfortable when
he did get it inside me. Like a hard cramp punctuated with a little
kick in the pussy, Brandon's knot suddenly seemed to squeeze for a
brief second, bringing a sharp whine from the dog, and then popped
inside me. I sucked a deep breath at the sensation and clutched Brandy
even tighter as I started cumming yet again. This time it was really
good as the knot was expanding quickly, gaining full size and
stretching my pussy in every direction, like someone was inflating a
hot balloon inside my sex. I always loved that feeling.

Brandy liked it too, I think, as it always seemed to drive my lover
into a fresh and passionate frenzy. He was jerking his hips quickly,
giving me short but incredibly powerful thrusts that rocked my body
beneath him. He could move only a fraction inside my tight pussy, the
knot effectively lodged into place by its size and shape and the
pressure of my own muscles around it. But that was enough for him, and
enough for me as his cock began shooting his hot dog sperm deep into my
womb. His tapered cockhead was nudged right up to my cervix, that
curious bottleneck that was so sensitive to every small sensation. When
Brandy's cum sprayed against it I couldn't help but give a small
cry of pleasure.

I came long and hard, blinded to everything and just clutching Brandon
to my heaving body as his balls emptied themselves into his bitch. This
was ever the best part, or so it would seem at the time. But truthfully
every part of making love with Brandon was the best part for me. From
the moment he first entered me, until we just held each other,
breathless and hot and waiting for his knot to shrink. I loved it all.

"Kiss me, baby..." I was whispering, inviting Brandy to tongue my
open mouth while we were locked together. It would be 10 minutes at
least, sometimes as long as 20 or 30 before his swollen muscle would
begin to diminish. But until then it would hold me tight, keeping my
pussy closed and his puppy making sperm inside me.

We kissed leisurely, almost playfully as my mind was always carefree
and happy, like I was on some sort of strange drug that only made me
feel like a little girl living in Disneyland. I was almost ecstatic,
pumped up on adrenaline and endorphins, and coming down nice and slow
from the wild peaks of pleasure. I was in love with my dog, completely
and irrevocably, and I couldn't imagine having anyone else for a
lover. It was strange, perhaps, and probably disappointing to my mother
especially, but I knew I'd have to tell her soon. I wouldn't be
able to hide my feelings for long, not while I was living there in my
parents' house.

I just needed to find an explanation that would make it
seem...practical. 
 
end
rache696@yahoo.com

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