From: Weasel@wolf.u-net.com (The Weasel)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.bestiality
Subject: Boys will be Boys (Canine erotica)
Date: Sat, 28 Sep 1996 12:13:49 GMT

			  Boys Will Be Boys

	"Hey! Charlie! Over here!"

	The rangy Bloodhound walked over to where his two friends sat,
and pulled up a chair at their table. His eyes, as always, spoke of
inestimable sorrow, as he blinked slowly around, taking in his
surroundings.

	The tavern in which they were seated was not large. There was
a small bar, usually run by Koto on his own, about a dozen tables and
a small stage at the far end. Typically, there were about ten to
fifteen stalwart regulars drinking here on any given night.

	Fridays, though - Fridays were always different. Koto had two
of his daughters to help out, extra tables were squashed into every
available corner, and the room was filled with almost unheard of
volumes of chatter and smoke. There were more like sixty or eighty
eager anticipators here now, and each pair of eyes faced the stage,
with almost predatory watchfulness.

	There were all sorts here. Virtually every breed was
represented, from Chihuahuas to Irish Wolfhounds. Mostly male, of
course. Well, they would be. It WAS Friday night. Charlie drank in the
atmosphere, hungrily, before turning his attention back to Ben and
Lester.

	He would have to buy the next round, he knew that, but first,
he formed the question that every male here had done before him. "So,"
he asked, nodding towards the stage. "Who is it tonight?"

	Ben, the good-looking Springer Spaniel, grinned triumphantly
at him. "Candice," he answered, relishing the sound of the word in
his mouth.

	Charlie's mouth dropped open a little, and his tongue hung out
sideways. Ben grinned again. "Candice?" Charlie managed at last.
"Whew! And to think, I almost gave it a miss tonight."

	Ben panted, with obvious amusement. "Yeah. Lester's really
cheesed off. He told his bitch that he'd be home early tonight."

	Charlie turned on Lester with obvious irritation. "What did
you go and do that for? Friday is always our night out. You're not
going, are you?"

	Lester gazed sheepishly back. "Uhh... Well... " His massive
shoulders finally sagged in defeat. "No, I guess not."

	Ben smiled silently at this brief exchange. It was a standing
joke between them that Lester, the huge, well-muscled Husky, was by
far the most dominated dog of the group. He hopped consistently
between being bullied by his mate and his friends. He would be in a
lot of trouble when he finally got home at the end of the night, but
each of them would frankly admit, it was worth it. It WAS Candice,
after all!

	"You gonna buy a drink, or are you just sitting there to test
the strength of our chairs?" A sharp voice broke into the newly formed
silence around the table. Looking around, Charlie saw Pepper, the
brindle barmaid, standing just behind him. She was neither
outstandingly tall or well-muscled, in fact, she always looked
slightly undernourished and a little harassed. Nevertheless, she
commanded a great deal of respect from the denizens of the bar. She
had a nip that could subdue the most vicious of hounds, and she had
shown time and time again that she was ready to use it.

	"Oh, yeah," replied Charlie, regaining his equilibrium. "Three
bowls of beer, thanks Pep, and can you fill up the Bix box?" He passed
her the almost empty tray of snacks from the centre of the table.
"We're running a bit low," he added, apologetically.

	Pepper whisked the tray away, with rather less than good
grace. "You guys want a meal, you should buy one," she snapped
churlishly. "All you do is fill up on the free stuff. You're not worth
having as customers." Grumbling to herself, she swept away with the
empties, only to return two minutes later, with their order. She
slammed it all onto the table, slopping the beer slightly, and stomped
off to serve the next group.

	Ben opened his mouth, probably to make some disparaging
comment about women, but it remained unspoken. At the same instant,
music began from the direction of the stage. The effect was
astonishing to behold. Within the space of the introductory four
bars, every yipping and growling voice within the room fell completely
silent. There was total focus upon the closed curtains that concealed
the heart of the stage. A thin string of anticipatory drool began to
work its way down the muzzle of more than half the dogs in the bar-
room, and the tension was heightened to an unbearable pitch.

	Slowly, so slowly, the curtains began to swish their graceful
parting. All it revealed, so far, was an empty wooden platform, but
there was the promise of more imminent action. A collective sigh was
uttered by the audience as Candice strutted saucily onto the stage.

	She was exquisite. A pure white German Shepherd, she exuded
the ultimate in power and grace. She flaunted her colouring with
dashing bravado, setting it off against the black silk of her fragile
attire. Her blouse was loose, casually buttoned, and open for the
upper third of its length. The view was intoxicating, and every dog in
the room leaned forwards involuntarily. The short skirt clasped itself
tightly around her athletic hips, and there was not a dog present who
did not notice the hard ridge of her long tail, bushing out from its
lower reaches. She wore no shoes - she did not need to, as each agile,
dainty step made her muscles ripple in incredibly erotic ways.

	Her eyes were pits of alluring wickedness, enticing each
member of the audience to join her in forbidden pleasures. Even her
ears - the perky way that they pricked and pointed - spoke of unsated
sexuality. From the moment that she walked onto centre stage, each dog
within the confines of the tavern was at her mercy.

	Gradually, the lights dimmed, until only one remained. It was
bright, circular, and focused only upon the beautiful bitch. The
introduction slowed a little as it reached its conclusion, and Candice
opened her mouth, licking her muzzle lasciviously with her long, pink
tongue.

	She began to sing, her voice full, throaty and alluring. There
were words, but the words were not important. What froze every dog to
their seats was the way she moved, the softness of her paws, the firm
but yielding curves of her flesh beneath the fur, and the tantalising
vision that each of them had in their imaginations. Of course, they
knew that fantasy was the way it would always remain, but for a while,
they could dream.

	A verse of the song went by, and the music started to pick up.
The beat became stronger, the saxophones began to hum out the melody
in its vibrant tones. Candice smiled confidently, invitingly, and the
dance began.

	This was what the audience hungered for. Charlie, Lester and
Ben might just as easily have been sitting at separate tables for all
the notice that they took of each other now. They were tense and
silent, hardly daring to breathe for fear that they might miss one
exquisite moment of the performance. Pools of saliva were gathering on
the table before them, mixing unashamedly with the ample bowls of
beer, still untouched. They watched, quivering with suppressed tension
as each of the blouse buttons was undone, slowly and meticulously,
revealing the smaller blackness of her halter beneath.

	Candice strutted and revelled in the attention, basking under
the hot glare of the gazes that surrounded her. She was intensely
alive, she was the only dog in the room - the only one that mattered,
anyhow. Teasingly, she allowed another verse of the music to go by,
before slipping her paws down to the waistband of her skirt. As the
world around her sweated and ogled, she unfastened the clips and, with
a great deal of delicacy and grace, slid it down her fur, stepping out
of it as it landed around her fluffy white hind-paws. Her tail - that
pillar of perfection - squeezed out from its former prison, and
fluffed into its full glory behind her. She waved it lazily and
continued to dance.

	Now, only thin straps of jet black leather stood between her
and absolute nakedness. Large expanses of pure white fur were
uncovered - thick and shiny under the glare of the stage-lights.
Written on every dog's face was the desire to sink his paws deep into
the rough silk of her coat, feeling the endless depth and warmth of
her, smelling her heady musk.

	They watched breathless now, as she stepped up the tempo,
twirling and leaping, as lithely and effortlessly as any gymnast. With
supreme poise, she reached the edge of the stage, and walked down the
wooden steps, keeping perfect time now, until she was on the bar-room
floor, joining more intimately with the clientele.

	She sauntered among them, squeezing between tables,
occasionally brushing past one or other of the dogs, hearing his
gasping whimper as their bodies sizzled with the contact. The song was
highly suggestive now, adding to the overall mood of the evening.
Between verses, she sat down on the knee of a customer - a new dog,
barely out of his adolescence - and whispered breathlessly into his
erect ear. Whatever was said, it had the effect of reducing him to a
quivering mass of jelly. He trembled and his mouth sagged open
helplessly. Dogs generally lack the capacity to blush, but the heat
rose visibly in shimmering waves from his entire body.

	Unheeding, Candice moved on. She moved towards the table where
Charlie, Ben and Lester sat, moving almost unbearably close, only to
dance away again at the last minute. Finally, however, she settled,
making a beeline for Lester. Ben chuckled and made a couple of
derisive comments under his breath - about what Lester's bitch was
going to say when she found out - but nobody else was listening. In
truth, Ben was as fascinated as the rest of the group, and he watched
greedily as Candice settled on Lester's knee. The shy Husky hummed and
hawed, acting all nervous and irresolute, but Candice was firm. Under
her directions, he semi-willingly undid the leather buckles and straps
that had, up to now, held her halter firm. It slipped down, and she
stood up again. For a moment, the three dogs closest to her were
wafted with her overpowering scent, and they reeled drunkenly. It was
only Candice's supreme self-confidence that kept their natural
instincts in check.

	Now she moved on to the other end of the room, and suddenly
their view was not so good. Another dog - young, muscular and eager -
removed the bindings that tangled enticingly around her crotch and
lower body, and she danced on, unfettered.

	The music crashed to a crescendo now. Candice swept on, losing
herself within the heat of the rhythms, dancing away again, towards
her rightful spot on the centre stage. The audience rose and fell at
her command, they swayed forward, only to be checked by a casual
gesture. She had them - she had them all. Finally, the dance was
virtually over. She was naked now - or almost! There remained the
final touch.

	Casually, flirtatiously, her paws rose to her slim white neck.
Her mouth opened in a seductive smile, the tongue moist and
appetising, and in one fluid movement, she freed herself from her
collar, and flung it into the audience. Before the cheer had
completely died down, Candice was gone.

	Gradually, the electric of the atmosphere returned to normal.
Dogs began to talk to each other again, even if it was only to discuss
the one topic. Drinks, newly remembered, disappeared down the throats
of the thirsty hounds, and more were ordered.

	Lester rose now, with regret. "Uhm... sorry guys, I've gotta
go."

	Charlie gave a sardonic grin. "She's really got you trained,
hasn't she?"

	Again, Lester looked uncomfortable, but this time he stuck to
his guns. He gathered his coat up, said his goodbyes and exited as
quickly as his dignity allowed.

	Ben smirked at Charlie, now that they were alone for the rest
of the evening. "You going to be here next Friday?"

	Charlie nodded. "Wouldn't miss it. Still, it won't be Candice
next time."

	Ben sighed, dreamily. "Yeah. Wish it was, though. Amazing
teats."

	A reflective pause followed. "Another drink, Ben?" asked the
bloodhound.

	Ben stood up, looking a little abashed. "Actually, I've got an
early start tomorrow. Going hunting, you know."

	Charlie's face transformed, as a rare smile flitted across it.
"And the names we've been calling Lester... All right then. I'll call
it a day too."

	The two remaining dogs walked part-way home together, each
finishing his journey alone. Now they returned to being family dogs,
working dogs, responsible dogs. Until next Friday...
--
The Weasel