sampson

sampson

Not only had I been intrigued with the idea of petlove, I had been overwhelmed. And I had no idea what to do about the feelings that first depiction of hot and furious sex with a dog had left me with. I was just getting out of a relationship where I felt misunderstood when I decided I needed some time away, time to think, get creative again and find my muse. In a time honored tradition I chose to do some soul searching in a cabin, in the Washington wilderness. I remember passing a few log cabins on my first day, the open sunroof, windows down to enjoy those first warmish/cool days of spring, and nodded in greeting or raised my index finger from the steering wheel in a passing hello to the few folks I encountered on the last leg of the drive. Unpacking was fairly simple; a flick of the sheets, filling the icebox and tucking my personal things out of the way. I didn’t want a lot of things, just nature, good food, good wine and the solitude to enjoy them. A large wooden desk faced the window to accommodate my laptop and the papers of my first draft. After unloading my backpack and the cooler I decided to head out for a scout of the forested area I had settled into. My daypack on my back, a sturdy walking stick gleaned from my near my back door I stepped off the porch and into another chapter of my life. The day was gorgeous, the tree trunks creaking in the breeze, birds twittering about, and the smell of damp earth and freshets of mountain water were all around me. The day was incredible and even the miscellaneous patches of snow scattered about did nothing to deflate my euphoric mood. I had kept good track of my location, eaten my power bar a few hours before and was heading back to my cabin when I came across this woman in the lane that I had driven my car over early that morning. Her high spirits translated themselves when she issued a warm greeting and asked which cabin I had taken – number thirteen I replied and returned her hello. She invited me for a cup of green tea and we sat on her front porch sipping and enjoying the comfortable silence as night came early to the mountainside. Miyako and I spoke of art and local galleries, politics and current events, travel, trivial things that help friendships begin. I kept noticing her pulling her blouse over some very red scratches near the tops of her breasts, but each time she would reach for her shirt she sort of lovingly touched them before hiding them away. She mentioned the time and suggested that she loan me a flashlight and one of her dogs to walk me back to my cabin. Mag-Lite in hand and Sampson near my thigh I set out to find my new home in the woods. The silence of the night certainly worked its magic on me as Sampson and I walked back to the cabin, the breezy air was stimulating, my nipples were hard points under my sweater, and this large black dog by my side, with his glossy fur and searching eyes did nothing to still my pounding heart. Those sturdy greyed logs were exactly where I had left them earlier that morning and the screen door had that creak that was already beginning to grow on me. Sampson padded in behind me and settled on the rug near the bed. I spent more than a few minutes at the fireplace in an attempt to get my first fire of the journey started, after many matches, more than a few curses and lots of knocking about the flames caught. I was vividly aware of the dog and his intent stare that followed me around the cabin. After pouring a glass of red wine, I gathered my toiletries and headed for the shower. It had been a long day of hiking, my legs tattooed with thin red welts from leafless undergrowth, and achy muscles from the sudden increase in activity. I think I ran the tank out of hot water eventually and when I emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of warm steam Sampson was quietly waiting just outside the door. Wet hair, barefooted and exhausted I moved to the kitchen to pour Sampson a bowl of water and offer a piece of beef jerky I’d brought along. He lapped vigorously at the water, nosed the proffered meat, seemed to consider it for a moment but rejected it. I pulled myself into the well-worn chair by the fire, tucked my chilling feet under my robe and sipped my wine while the fire crackled. Sampson positioned himself under my hand to the left of the chair, content with my loving remarks about his sweet nature and my fingers buried in his fur. I stroked his softness for a long time; the fire seemed to mesmerize us both. Miyako had said Sampson would come home when he was ready but he seemed to have settled in for the night. I could feel the wetness that had begun during our walk back reassert itself and trickle down between my thighs, the mere presence of this dog, alone in the woods and free from guilt and judgment stimulated me beyond belief – but he wasn’t mine and I didn’t want to molest my new friend’s dog. Eventually the wine was gone from the glass, the fire was banked for the night and I was more than ready for bed - too tired to even do anything about the creamy moisture this beautiful animal had inspired in me. As I perched on the side of the mattress, Sampson settled down on the rug again and seemed as ready for sleep as I was. I lay back against the pillow with my script in hand to make a few notes before closing my eyes – the last things I remember was my arm falling over my head and the pages of my play slipping to the floor. The exact sequence of events that followed is not very clear to me I only know that I woke up from the most erotic dream to feel warm breath on my inner thigh. I froze with fear for a moment, having to reorient myself. I was in my leased cabin in the woods; I had closed the door behind me the last time I entered and I was quivering with sexual excitement. Yeti could have taken me that night and I would have encouraged him but it was only Sampson, sweet furry walking companion that he was. I’m one of those people that have to slip one leg out from under the covers or I get too hot in the night, Sampson must have taken this as an invitation because I could feel his nose pushing between my thighs. A sigh exploded from my mouth and I knew I wasn’t going to stop him. My dream and his tongue had made me so slippery it was dripping down my ass – he pushed harder with his wet nose and I spread my legs over the edge of the bed for his lapping tongue, catching my heels on the edge of the bed frame. I had never felt such wet heat before, his tongue was not rough like the cat’s had been years before, but it wasn’t soft like a human’s either. Firm, warmer than my own body temperature and insistent. At first he just lapped at my outer lips but as my excitement increased apparently his did too and he drove deeper and deeper inside my pussy searching for the very core of my creaminess. His nose and little front teeth drove against my clit as his tongue explored my inner depths and I felt my orgasm begin, the trembling contractions as my pussy spasmed around his tongue. I tried to gently push his head away as my orgasm subsided and my sensitivity increased but he raised himself up, paws on my thighs as he continued at me relentlessly. One fading orgasm bloomed into another then I felt his tongue hit my g-spot and I helplessly drenched him, the bed, and me with my juices. I must have let out one long, loud moan because he raised his head, cocked his ears, threw his head back and howled too. That was the first night a dog ever stayed in my bed. I don’t know how late we slept but when I woke the sun was barely up and I was famished. Sampson had a sleepy look on his face too but seemed content to remain lying on my 1000 thread count sheets and duvet cover. Then I noticed the pink tip of his penis peeking out from his sheath – I had what I wanted for breakfast in sight. It seemed so natural, like waking up to a lover who pleasured you all night long. I rolled over on my belly and slid towards him, considering to myself what sort of stimulation a dog might like, something my graphic novel in Japan hadn’t touched upon. My trembling fingers stroked his emerging cock, I slipped my tongue out to gently savor him and even more of his length became apparent. There was no overwhelming taste and he smelled dog like and clean; I slipped my lips around his burgeoning cock and began stroking the shaft. I could feel his hips move into an irresistible rhythm as he lay there on his side, he dipped his head forward to lick my neck and face and it seemed like a touch of encouragement as well. I hadn’t imagined such a fat cock on a dog but he filled my mouth and his knot hadn’t even really begun. Suddenly he sprayed my face and mouth with his pre-cum but I never lost a beat. I could feel his knot swelling in my hand and the thought of it inside of me spurred me on, softly sucking but mostly grasping the shaft and clenching as he pistoned in and out of them both. He became very still and I felt the first warm pulse as his cum jetted down my throat, his knot at its largest tucked safely in my other hand. I swallowed and swallowed in an attempt to keep up but even my heroic efforts were not enough, his seed slipped onto my cheek, down my neck and over my breasts. As he finished I found my self laughing and thinking that I now had the answer to why bitches have so many puppies! Sampson looked drained but he leaned forward again and spent the next twenty minutes cleaning me up. Another difference between the species – men usually fall asleep after they orgasm, this one kissed and licked me to my heart’s content. With a start I remembered that I had essentially dog knapped Miyako’s dog, while temptation suggested many things I knew I had to take him home. What was I going to say Miyako?

Wendydreams

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