FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

What I am going to tell you has something to do with how sometimes something that seemed far away at first can actually be very close when viewed correctly; or maybe I only think it has something to do with that. But, it's why I am zoo today, and why I searched for a place... or a space, rather... to tell it. All right. The dog, you'll need to know, is a black behemoth of a creature: a gigantic head, big, big floppy ears, and eyes... gorgeous, soulful, maybe; and a body you can see the muscles rippling through the skin. The dog is black, all black, all black except for those gorgeous eyes, and... yes... and a heart-shaped mark on its... right forepaw; that is white, unlike the brown eyes. And, oh yes; the needy creature, and I do believe it's a young dog... it's certainly a hearty one... almost always has an erection... of sorts. Bright red. And... what else?... oh, yes; there's a sparkling bright white color, too, when he bares his fangs. Like this: Grrrrrrr! Which is what he did when he saw me for the first time... the day I moved in. I lusted after that animal the very first minute I met him. Now, animals take to me like Saint Francis had birds hanging off him all the time. What I mean is: animals are responsive to me... unlike people... most of the time. This dog was interested. At the very beginning he'd bow, and then go for me, to get one of my legs. Not like he was rabid, you know; he was a sort of stumbly dog, but he wasn't half-assed, either. It was a good, stumbly run, but I always got away. He got a piece of my pant leg, look, you can see right here, where it's patched; he got that the second day he lived here; but I kicked free and got upstairs fast, so that was that. I still don't know how the other tenants manage it,m but you know what I think: I think it has only to do with me. Cozy. So. Anyway, this went on for over a week, whenever I cam in; but never when I went out. That's funny. Or, it was funny. No matter when I came home, he'd always be there to greet me, like the dog cared. Well, I thought about it up in my room one day, one of the times after I'd bolted upstairs, and I made up my mind. I decided: I'll make the dog my friend, and if he wants it... his mate. Don't react, please; just listen. So, the next day I went out and bought a pack of ground beef, 80% fat, no seasoning; and on the way home I threw away the packaging and kept just the meat.

When I got back to the boarding-house the dog was waiting for me. I half-opened the door that led into the entrance hall, and there he was; waiting for me. It figures. I went in, very cautiously, and I had the ground beef, you remember; I took out the meat and I set it down about twelve feet from where the dog was bowing for me. Like so! He wagged; stopped wagging; sniffed; moved slowly; then faster; then faster towards the meat. Well, when he got to it he stopped, and he looked at me. I smiled; but tentatively, you understand. He turned his face back to the ground beef, smelled, sniffed some more, and then... RRRAAAAGGGGGHHHH, like that... he tore into it. It was as if he'd never eaten anything so delicious in his life before, except like cheap kibble. Which might very well have been the truth. I don't think the landlady ever feeds him anything but cheap kibble. But. He ate all the ground beef, almost all at once, making sounds in his throat like a man. Then, when he'd finished the meat, the ground beef, and tried to lick up the blood, too, he sat down and smiled. I think he smiled; I know cats do. It was a very gratifying few.moments. Then, BAM, he bowed and pounced for me again. He almost got me this time, too. So, I got upstairs, and I lay down on my bed and started to think about the dog again. To be truthful, I was satisfied, and I was damn proud too. One perfectly good pound of ground beef with not enough fat in it to make it disgusting. I was satisfied. And, after a while, I decided to try it for a few more days. If you think about it, this dog had what amounted to a sympathy towards me; really. And, I wondered if I mightn't encourage this sympathy. So, I tried it for five more days, and it was always the same: bow, sniff; move; faster; stare; gobble; RAAGGGHHH; smile; bow; BAM. Well, now; by this time Columbus Avenue was strewn with foam and I was less satisfied than horny. So, I decided to mate with the dog.

There's no need to be alarmed; I succeeded. The day I tried to mate with the dog I bought only one beef patty and what I thought was a sufficient portion of lubricant. When I bought the patty I asked the man not to bother with the packaging, all I wanted was the meat. I expected some reaction from him, like: we don't sell beef patties without packaging; or, wha' d'ya wanna do, carry it in ya han's? But no; he smiled benignly, wrapped up the beef patty in wax paper, and said: A bite for ya pupper? I wanted to say; Yes, of course; it's part of a plan to seduce a dog I know. But you can't say 'a dog I know' without sounding funny; so I said, a little too loud, I'm afraid, and too formally: YES, A BITE FOR MY PUPPER. People looked up. It always happens when I try to simplify things; people look up. But that's neither hither nor thither. So. On my way back to the boarding-house, I kneaded the beef patty in my hands, and that point feeling as much excitement as lust. I opened the door to the entrance hall, and there the creature was, waiting to take the offering and then jump me.Lovely adonis, I was glad that the moment he took to smile gave me time to prepare myself.SO, there he was; benevolence with an erection, waiting. I put the rolled up patty down, moved toward the stairs and waited. The lovely animal gobbled the food down as usual, smiled, which almost made me swoon, and then, BAM. And, I waited by the stairs, and the dog got to me, for once. AND IT CAME TO PASS THAT THE DOG WAS EAGER TO MATE. I knew this because he finally climbed on top of me, and because his erection perked up. He pinned me to the ground and showed me how he, the dog, would strike his bitch a surely forceful blow. He had awakened my bewildered lust, and my eyes were open for the first time. I guided and implored him to mount me. I wanted to shout for him: Sir, you own my body, my heart, my loyalty, my darkest secrets, my deepest doubts, and the rest of my love for all time, forever; as much, Sir, as I can give you. But... to simplify things... I told him he was a good boy. He thrust deeper. He moaned in pleasure, as if he wanted me to have his puppies. I told him, and there was so much truth here, that I didn't want him to stop. I didn't, and not just because I'd seduced him. I'm afraid I must tell you I wanted the dog to cum so that I could feel what our new relationship had come to.

Please, understand, that sort of thing is important. You must believe me; it is important. We have to know the effect of our actions. Well, anyway, the dog and I tied. I'm glad to know why, that he was paired with me like the spirit dogs that guard the land of the dead or some such resort. I'm not up on my mythology. Are you?

At any rate, and you've missed the eight-thousand-dollar; question; at any rate, the dog reduced his size and I recovered my senses, invariably altered by the bow-wow's release. When I came home from a movie that was playing on Forty-second Street, a movie I'd seen, or one that was very much like one or several I'd seen, I was so hoping for the dog to be waiting for me. I was... well, how would you put it... enticed?... fascinated?... no, I don't think so... heart-shatteringly anxious, that's it: I was heart-shatteringly anxious to embrace my lover again.

Yes, lover. That's the only word for it. I was heart-shatteringly et cetera to embrace my doggy lover again. I came in the door and advanced, unafraid, to the center of the entrance hall. The creature was there... looking at me. And, you know, he looked better for his romp with me. I stopped; I looked at him; he looked at me. I think... I think we stayed a very long time that way... still, stone-statue... just looking at one another. I looked more into his face than he looked into mine. I mean, I can concentrate longer at looking into a dog's face than a dog can concentrate at looking into mine, or into anybody else's face, for that matter. But during that twenty seconds or two hours that we looked into each other's face, we made contact. Now, here is what I had wanted to happen: I loved the dog now, and I wanted him to love . I had tried to love, and I had tried to mate, and both had been successful by themselves. I hoped... and I don't really know why I expected the dog to understand anything, much less my motivations... I hoped that the dog would understand.

It's just... it's just that... it's just that if you can't deal with people, you have to make a start somewhere. WITH ANIMALS! Don't you see? A person has to have some way of dealing with SOMETHING. If not with people... SOMETHING. With a bed, with a cockroach, with a mirror... no, that's too hard, that's one of the last steps. With a cockroach, with a... with a... with a carpet, a roll of toilet paper... no, not that, either... that's a mirror, too; always check bleeding. You see how hard it is to find things? With a street corner, and too many lights, all colors reflecting on the oily-wet streets... with a wisp of smoke, a wisp... or smoke... with... with pornographic playing cards, with a strong-box... WITHOUT A LOCK... with love, with vomiting, with crying, with fury because the pretty little ladies aren't pretty little ladies, with making money with your body which is an act of love and I could prove, with howling because you're alive; with God. How about that? WITH GOD WHO IS A BLACK DOG WITH WHITE FANGS IN NEED OF A MATE! WHO IS A DOG WHO WHIMPERS WITH DETERMINATION BEHIND MY UPTURNED REAR... with God who, I'm told, turned his back on the whole thing some time ago... with... some day, with people. People. With an idea, a concept. And where better, where ever better in this humiliating excuse for a jail, where better to communicate one single, simple-minded idea than in an entrance hall? Where? It would be a START! Where better to make a beginning... to understand and just possibly be understood... a beginning of an understannding, than with... than with a DOG. Just that; a dog.

A dog. It seemed like a perfectly sensible idea. Man is a dog's best friend, remember. So, the dog and I looked at each other. I longer than the dog. And what I saw then has been the same ever since.Whenever the dog and I see each other we both stop where we are. We regard each other with a mixture of joy and trust, and then we show warmth. We walk to each other safely; we have an understanding. It's very strange, but you'll have to admit that it is an understanding. We had made many attempts at contact, and we had succeeded. The dog has given me affection, and I have given him passionate but respectful tenderness. I have not regressed. I mean to say, I have gained passionate affection, if that can be said to be gain. I have learned that both kindness and attention, in themselves, inspire themselves in return, and I have learned that the two combined, together, at the same time, are the attaching emotion. And what is gained is profound. And what has been the result: the dog and I have attained a connection, more of a bond, really. We both love and lust because we tried to reach each other. And, was trying to feed the dog an act of love? And, perhaps, was the dog's attempt to mount me not an act of love? If you can so misunderstand, well then, why have we invented the word love in the first place?

The Story of Jerry and the Dog: The End.