Newsgroups: rec.arts.erotica:
From: cambertr@atlas.cs.upei.ca (Michael Bertrand)
Subject: Tipper and Friends, (M, dog)
Date: 12 Jan 1994 22:18:49 -0500

				Tipper

	It was a hot summer day, the kind that makes everything seem
hostile and intoxicating. The sun poured over the town and crushed it
under its humid fist. I was doing my paper route, the rough green bag
bouncing on my hip, the sweat dripping down my back and tantalizing my
ass cheeks. I was just beginning to wonder if it was possible to lose
so much sweat that the body just turned into powder and blew away in
one of the infrequent breezes when I came to the Thompson's house. I
was about to knock on the door to collect my weekly payment when I
noticed a note taped to the mailbox. It read:

	Dear Allen:

	Sorry, but we had to leave on a business trip
	for a few days. Tipper is in the basement. Would
	you please feed him some of the dog food from
	the bag on the tool bench and give him some
	water from the hose every day? We'll catch up on
	the paper payments when we get back, plus a
	little extra for your troubles.
				      Love and Kisses,
				      Marge Thompson

	My mind reeled. Tipper was a beautiful male Doberman, sleek,
muscular, friendly, and queerer than a shooting star at noon. We'd
struck up a relationship long before this, but because the only place
I usually got to see him was in his front yard, I'd never been able to
do anything with him except cop a lightning- quick feel as I stood up,
or jack his cock a few times while pretending to scratch his belly.
Needless to say, these experiences had hardly satisfied either of us,
and now we could be alone indoors together for the first time.

	As I untaped the key which was attached to the note (I live in
a small town), all I could think about was the time Tipper got loose.
The "official" story was that he had eventually found in somebody's
back yard fighting with a neighbourhood stray, but I happened to know
from a reliable source that they had been found frantically fucking
each other up the asshole (I imagine that gay dogs are rare unless
trained to be so, so that when two find each other, it's PARTY TIME,
regardless of time or place!) and licking each others' cocks in a kind
of circling 69, not fighting. As the mental video tape I had
constructed of this event played itself over and over again in my
mind, the bulge in my trunks grew larger and harder, and began to
throb. I couldn't get the key into the door fast enough.

	I opened the door and hurried inside, depositing my paper bag
onto the kitchen table. I threw open the door to the basement and
bounded down the steps. And there was Tipper, in all his ebony glory.
When he saw who it was coming to see him, he began to prance around in
that classical canine dance of joy. I noticed that his cock
immediately slipped out of its sheath and sprang up, ready for action,
as well.

	Down came the shorts in one violent motion. I kicked them into
the corner. Tipper immediately sprang forward and engulfed my stiff
prick into his hot mouth. For those of you too timid, too normal, or
too unlucky to have ever had a BJ from a large dog, let me tell you,
they put most human cocksuckers to shame, for what dogs lack in style
and technique, they more than compensate for in enthusiasm, energy,
and the fact that with those huge floppy tongues and long snouts, they
are quite capable of deep-throating your cock, sucking on your balls,
and licking your asshole simultaneously. All this Tipper proceeded to
do, while I stood there, stroking the top of his head as it bobbed
enthusiastically in time with his cocksucking motions.

	I disentangled myself from his multi-level mouth motion long
enough to walk over to the mattress next to the radiator, telling
Tipper to Stay (which earned me a puzzled and hurt look). But as I
repositioned then lay down on the mattress, so that my head was
pointing directly at him, he began to understand what I was doing, and
when I patted the mattress between my legs, he knew exactly what to
do. He clambered over my head, so that his head was at my crotch and
his front legs at either side of my hips. This placed his hind legs
just above my head on the mattress, and his large, jet black penis
directly above my face. I stopped for a few moments silence (except
for Tipper's eager slurping and sucking noises emanating from my
crotch region) in thanks for what I was about to receive. Then, I "dug
in".

	First, I took the tip of his cock between my lips, and began
slowly licking it. Meanwhile, my hands were busy running up and down
Tipper's well-muscled legs, till they found the tail and followed it
down to his impatient butthole. A quick lubrication via a solid
salivation of my middle and index fingers on my left hand, and while
the right hand held his tail out of the way, the lubricated fingers
began poking into that waiting hole. As my fingers did the walking up
the dirt road, I began moving up his cock with my mouth, gradually
taking in more and more of its delicious length, all the while
continuing to suck and lick. My efforts were beginning to elicit
penis-muffled whimpers and moans from Tipper. As I worked my way up
his rod, my fingers plunged still deeper in and out of his rectum, and
I began spreading my fingers further apart each time. Upwards on his
cock and inwards up his ass I worked, until my nose was nuzzling his
prominent testicles and my fingers were burying themselves up to the
knuckle each time. I began deep-throating his cock, and added a third
finger to his anal pleasure. In and out of my throat went his long
stiff member, the greatly swollen tip almost gagging me each time, the
rough short fur abrading my tongue with each thrust, and all the while
the sweet tangy taste of dog dick flooding my palate.

	In and out, in and out, plunged my fingers, feeling the
shivers and convulsion of pleasure as his asshole opened to accept the
fingers then clamped down, as if reluctant to let them go out again,
as my palm slapped gently against his testicles with each thrust. I
could feel the cum beginning to build up in my balls. With one final
thrust, I crammed my cock down Tipper's throat, spewing a rocket blast
of hot semen down his eager throat. At the same time, I rammed my
fingers up his Chocolate Tunnel and buried his cock in my throat to
the hilt, for which I was rewarded with a powerful jet of creamy
canine cumshot. For the next few minutes, we two interspecies lovers
devoted ourselves to the painstaking job of draining each other dry.

	It was time for a break. Tipper simply lay down on top of me,
his head resting on my balls, and his hind end on my chest. As I lay
there basking in the afterglow, licking the doggy cum off of my face
and planning the next act (my cock was already beginning to stiffen
anew), I suddenly noticed a sound which I did not expect. Two sounds,
actually. One was a familiar wet rhythmic sound, and the other was a
lower rhythmic squishing noise at about half the tempo of the other
sound. I sat halfway up and looked around. And it was then that I
noticed the eight-year-old boy standing at the bottom of the stairs to
the outside entrance to the basement, his gym pants down around his
knees, one hand beating off his young uncut dick and the other busy
fucking his butt with the hilt of a toy sword.