From: (The Rider)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.bestiality
Subject: The Puppy (m, dog)
Date: Wed, 03 Jan 1996 07:10:59 GMT

			       The Puppy 

	I guess the hardest thing about being a 'zoo' is... well,
getting it. In the biblical sense, that is. I mean, you can't go on
over to your next-door neighbour, tell him he's got the most fuckable
dog you've laid eyes on in months, and ask if you can borrow Brutus
for an hour or so for some serious butt-slammin' action, can you? That
wouldn't go over too well, I don't think.

	And what about checking into the local brothel: "Hi, I'm
really in the mood for a tight young Boxer bitch. Any chance?"

	No, you have to live by your wits, keeping your eyes skinned
and taking the few opportunities that happen to pass your way.
Sometimes you feel like one of those Hollywood 'hunter' characters you
see in TV action series. Except they don't make shows about what you
get your own sort of thrills from.

	So you have another choice: owning a pet, of course. If you
choose well, happiness will be yours. But what about the occasional
fling? I don't know about you, but I'm not faithful to my partner. If
the chance for a good encounter presents itself, I grab it with both
hands... so to speak.

				***

	One of the best times is when new neighbours move in. I always
try to see if they have a dog as soon as possible, trying not to be
too obvious about it, of course. So when the house two doors up
changed hands last week I was on the alert.

	It took me nearly a week to find out. I was driving past and
saw him for the first time: a young Dalmatian. Yes! It took another
week to find out that he was a boy, and I noticed at the same time he
was a pretty young thing. Not much more than a year old at the most.
He was as friendly as hell, and always wagged his tail furiously in
greeting when I walked past. Occasionally I would sneak up at night to
say hello, and over time he came to know me. After about a month,
perhaps six or seven such meetings later, I knew it was time to climb
the fence.

	Horror, you say! How could you take advantage of a family's
pet like that? I'm a zoo, not a bestialist, and my answer is the same
as always: I'd never hurt or force him, and I would make sure that he
enjoyed himself in as natural a way as possible. I would love and
respect him as all animals should be loved and respected, because they
are amazing things, alive and with thoughts and feelings of their own.
Speaking personally, I enjoy having sex with animals because I enjoy
giving them pleasure as much as I relish having sex with them myself.
Young dogs and colts really drive me crazy. I just want to give them a
good time. Dominant or passive - it's all the same to me.

	It was a warm summer night, with a strong wind blowing up as a
storm front approached from the west: an ideal night for sneaking
around. I had waited until two in the morning on a week-night, when
everyone was fast asleep after work. The street was black and deserted
as I strode casually past the front yard, glanced around, and slipped
into the shadows. There, once hidden, I topped the fence- I'm a good
climber - and there he was, waiting for me with a smile on his face.

	"Hello, boy!" I crooned. "How's it going, eh? "What've you
been up to?"

	I squatted down and ruffled his ears, stroking his neck and
shoulders as he tried to lick my face. He was a delightful young dog,
with just a trace of his puppy fat left which gave him a rolly-polly
sort of appeal that I couldn't resist. His short glossy coat was
dappled with blotches of black, but his face and ears were unblemished
white. His scrotum was a tight pink bundle between his hind legs, his
sheath likewise pink and almost naked of hair.

	Muscles bulged under his shoulders and back, and his front
legs bowed like a wrestler's biceps. His chest was lean and deep, his
rump broad and his tail set high. I examined his collar, and sure
enough, his name was engraved on a metal plate riveted to the leather:
Toby.

	He was completely innocent, a blank canvas waiting to be
wrought into a work of art. Tragically, most dogs never experience sex
in their lives. I was going to make sure that if he never did again he
would always have times like this to remember me by.

	The house was pitch-black, but I stayed in the shadows out on
the back lawn. Remember, people usually look out the front window
because that's where they expect trouble to come from. My motto is:
know thine enemy. People can be studied and analysed. All you need are
powers of observation.

	We were having a good play, just rolling around on the grass.
Dogs love to snuffle under things, so I was lying on my side letting
him burrow under my neck. When he was thoroughly excited I got onto
all fours and nudged his shoulder with my hip. He didn't get the
message the first time, so I tried again. He made a quick half-hearted
attempt to mount, and I praised him warmly.

	"Good boy! Good boy!" I encouraged him. "Come on, try it
again."

	I chased him backwards around the yard for a few seconds, then
rolled onto my back. He bounded up and stood over me with his feet on
both sides of my chest, panting happily. Gently, I reached up and
stroked his sheath with my right hand as he straddled me. He enjoyed
it at once, as nearly every dog does, and I continued massaging him
until he started to thrust with shallow movements. I paused to let him
understand what he was doing, then applied just a little more pressure
to his bulbs. He jerked much more this time, but not with any real
force yet. This was only the beginner's stuff. I might not even take
him all the way tonight, but leave him wanting more so that the next
time he would be really horny. I would play it by ear, as the saying
went.

	I caressed his sheath and testicles sensually, letting him get
used to being fondled and squeezed. Once again, he didn't mind in the
least, and I began to think in terms of moving him onto the real
thing.

	I had chosen a warm, windy night so that I could wear only a
pair of shorts with no jockettes underneath. All I had on me apart
from those was a small bottle of KY/water mix, just in case. The wind
would make sure we were not heard, and I was experienced enough to be
confident that he wouldn't yelp or cry. I would treat him like a baby
- and, in a way, he still was.

	I invited him to mount me again, and he did so with noticeable
enthusiasm, the feel of his first semi-erection fresh in his mind. I
let him grasp at my waist unsurely, letting him learn from the
experience as he went.

	For him, this was still play. But I was about to let him know
for certain that life was for more than idle recreation. Pleasure was
what mattered, and the world was too full of loneliness and
frustration to let oneself be hypnotised into ending up the same way.

	I arched my back as best I could to imitate the posture
adopted by a receptive bitch, and he clung on tighter with his thighs
pressed against me, making sure I couldn't get away. Judging that he
was ready to try, I reached back and tugged still harder on his
sheath. He thrust energetically in response, and I felt the sharp tip
of his penis brush the insides of my buttocks. Forcing him to hop
after me, I crawled into the deepest shade and pulled down my pants. A
quick squirt of the bottle, and I was lubed up and set to go. This
time I jerked quite strongly on his sheath, compressing his bulbs so
that he yanked his rump forwards reflexively and dug his claws into my
stomach. His penis jabbed me once before I improved his aim, and with
a piercing sensation I felt his shaft penetrate my anus all the way.

	With his organ safely inside, he started to thrust slowly and
deeply, engorging his erection with blood even as he started to
ejaculate for the first time. I could imagine what was going through
his mind, and judging by the look on his face he could scarcely
believe what was happening himself.

	I could feel his hot liquid gushing out as he rode me humping
as hard as he could now, his muscles wobbling as he convulsed time
after time, dancing on his hind legs like a sprinter preparing for a
race. His shoulders hunched as he wrapped his limbs around my waist
and dragged his buttocks up and up, his tendons straining as he stood
on tiptoes to keep himself aboard as his swollen bulbs expanded to
lock the two of us together.

	"Fuck me, boy!" I called softly again and again like a
refrain. "Fuck me, fuck me!"

	He responded obediently to the tone of my voice, and started
to speed up eagerly as I closed my eyes to concentrate on feeling his
body embracing me warmly, the brush of his soft fur and the pinch of
his bony front legs as he kept me securely trapped in his grip.I could
see in my mind's eye his scrotum jiggling to and fro as he bucked and
heaved, and that was the other part of it I loved: the feeling of
being possessed and dominated by a male animal, of being used by him.
I had always preferred large, short-coated breeds: Dobermans,
Rottweilers, German Shorthaired Pointers, Boxers, Weimeraners, Great
Danes, and, oh yes... Dalmatians! Their bodies were muscular and
long-limbed, so strong and quick, their minds so intelligent and
trusting. With a dog everything is clear and uncomplicated, devoid of
duplicitous thoughts and deceitful manipulations. Dogs are honest, and
they show it in their sexuality. What they want is to feel good, pure
and simple. They have no shame, and aren't reluctant to make the first
move if they know there is a chance they'll be rewarded. Each male
reacts differently, and for each the moment of enlightenment is unique
and special.

	Another joy is that their penises all look slightly different,
too: sometimes upturned with a deep cleft in the tip, other times
downturned with a more rounded glans, but always grotesquely,
delightfully purple and swollen. On top of that, each dog screws
differently, changing his own technique as time goes by, displaying
unmistakable maturity with each and every frenetic union he manages to
win.

	Toby lifted his left hind leg shakily and I helped him about-
face until he was standing aiming away from me. He fidgeted and
staggered as he continued to blow jet after jet of hot jizm into me,
the spasms quite distinct one after the other...

	There was little for me to do now, so I sank onto my elbows
and listened to the wind as he trembled and licked his muzzle, no
doubt running the full gamut of emotions he must be experiencing as he
recovered his sensibilities and realised where he was and just what he
was doing.

	We stayed there back to back for nearly ten minutes before I
felt him start to deflate all of a sudden. I held him to me with a
hand hooked around one thigh as his penis softened and shrank, and
only let him pull out when I was sure he was completely flaccid. He
threw himself down on the grass at once to lick his sheath
painstakingly, still giving the impression he wasn't sure what had
just happened but not in the least hurt or afraid.

	"What a good boy," I praised him lavishly as he cleaned
himself. "How was that, eh? Not bad, eh?"

	He jumped up and dashed madly around the yard with his ears
flying joyfully, full of nervous energy now that it was over. I
laughed as he hurtled past with his tongue lolling from his mouth.
What a joy it was to be alive, he seemed to be saying. And I couldn't
argue with him. The gift of life was the most poignant thing in the
universe.

	It boggled the mind that stars could once have exploded long
ago, given rise to other stars which in turn had died violently to
provide the building blocks for yet a third generation surrounded by
small rocky planets upon whose surfaces complex carbon compounds
randomly organised themselves into self-replicating units of greater
and greater complexity until something like a human being or domestic
dog could be created unplanned from that ancient, lifeless cosmos. Who
needed to believe in something as stupid as God, when the sheer
unlikelihood of life evolving was by itself incomparably more awe-
inspiring and wonderful?

	How unlikely were the cosmic circumstances that had brought us
together at this place and time, motes in the empty vastness that
stretched for billions of light-years in all directions out to the end
of eternity. Who were arrogant, bigoted people to accuse us of
obscenity and evil? Who gave them the right to play God and sit in
judgment over my feelings?

	I wiped my buttocks clean and hitched up my shorts as he sat
and studied me curiously. If the weather was good I would return the
next night, and as I padded quietly home I could see him sitting in
the driveway behind the gate, a pale blob in the darkness as he
watched me leave.

	But I would be back.