Ch 4: Idle Hands
Idle Hands
copyright 2010 comidacomida
I know I've spent hours on end preaching the joys of having a Dog in my life, but I can't stress enough that there isn't such thing as a fairy tale ending. Any relationship takes consistent upkeep and dedication; there can't be any "happily ever after" unless you're willing to work for it. From my experience, that's doubly important when you're living with a Guard Dog.
From other folks I've talked with over the years, Guard Dogs can be just as needy as Puppies, only in different ways. While I can't speak for all of them, I CAN see elements in my own relationship with JD. I don't intend to turn this into a "bash my Guard Dog" discussion, so don't take this the wrong way. To be honest, I like a lot of JD's idiosyncrasies-- they make life exciting... sometimes VERY exciting.
Take, for instance, the first time I had to leave the apartment in New York for an extended weekend in Massachusetts. It was back in 2005 when they legalized marriage between humans and dogs. I suppose I could talk about that for hours on end, but then I'd be getting a little off topic. I know people still have some very strong emotions about the ruling and I don't want to start a debate-- let's just say I was there to cover the court ruling that Friday and stayed through Tuesday as a guest at some of the weddings.
When I got back to the apartment it was barely recognizable. I'm not sure if I ever mentioned that JD has a problem with spare time, but he does... big time. Every time my wonderful Guard Dog gets some extra hours on his paws something usually ends up broken. Some would consider it a character flaw, but I just one of his personality quirks and USUALLY plan accordingly. The trip out of town was an exception, and JD had a LOT of extra hours.
Even though travel, lodging, and expenses were paid for by the network, the actual cost of the trip was just short of four thousand dollars... an apartment worth of goods can add up. JD was quick to point out that it was my fault, "You know how I get when you're not around. You shouldn't have been gone so long." were his exact words, I think. Later that day when we were out buying replacement furniture he was a little remorseful, "I just really missed you, and I was worried." his tough-guy whine is the cutest thing, "What if something happened to you when I wasn't around?"
I know there are a lot of people out there that would condemn a Dog for an action like that. After all, Dogs are not dogs; they can think and reason and they can logically come to the conclusion that any given action is bad. I wouldn't argue that, but I would also point out that humans can do all those things and plenty of us do really stupid things too! When anyone is disturbed or distracted, stressed or distressed we often don't spend a lot of time thinking about what we do to try to calm ourselves or pass the time. Sometimes the best thing we can do for loved ones who suffer from such a quirk is to help remove the trigger that causes it. In JD's case, that meant he had to be kept busy.
In most circumstances JD goes wherever I go. When that isn't feasible then I try to find things to keep him busy. I remember one trip I had to take down to Florida. I won't get into details, but it involved situations that would have made it difficult for JD... let's just say that he has a problem with political rallies. Thankfully I was expecting a collection of do-it-yourself book shelf deliveries and I had to have an energetic assistant at home who would happily receive them, open them, and put them together. When I got back at the end of the week I had three book shelves completely assembled, positioned, polished, and stocked. JD has always had the energy... sometimes he just needed the focus.
Of course, JD is an active bull terrier, so his little 'moments' sometimes manifest even when he isn't alone. Two years ago when representatives from the Walter Media Group were invited to a political dinner put on by the mayor of New York City I figured it would be a great date for me and my Dog. Not to defend JD, but the dinner WAS boring and even I was starting to get bored. When I'm bored I tend to doodle. There I was at the table, pen out, squiggles, lines, shades, angles, and smiley-faces covering a napkin, minding my own business as polite as could be when one of the mayor's aides came to collect me.
I don't know if you've ever seen a bull terrier dressed in a sports coat and bow tie completely covered in champagne, but one thing I CAN tell you is that it's a lot funnier when it's not YOUR bull terrier. I don't think I ever got a full explanation from anyone, but all JD ever explained was that he was just trying to help. God, I love my Guard Dog, but sometimes I wonder just what he considers 'helping'. Alright, so, looking back at that event, I can say that it's funny even if it IS your Guard Dog, but only once the embarrassment is gone and enough time has passed to be able to smile about it.
Despite all of his 'moments' he can be just as amazingly wonderful as he is embarrassing, insulting, and destructive. He's added so much color to my life I can honestly say that JD's impulsive and spontaneous attitude is one thing I wouldn't change about him-- I love it! My life has benefited from his dynamic personality and, though it's sometimes caused me problems too, I find that there are moments when I find his impulsiveness rubbing off on me. Take for example, the following:
The Walter Media Group received an invitation for "Dog-Eat-Dog" to cover a Burb Dog and Leasher Convention in st Louis. As the host, I was shipped off the next day with JD and a small production crew in tow. I know what you might be thinking, that most Burb Dog conventions are as closed to the media as Furry and Fur-Free Conventions (you know... humans who identify with animals, and Dogs who identify with humans), but in most cases I've found that an open mind and a willingness to understand can result in a much warmer welcome than most would expect.
Before St Louis I can honestly say I'd never been to a Burb Dog Convention and I had a lot of preconceived notions about what I was going to see. Looking back at my misconceptions, I have to admit that I'm embarrassed to think how ignorant even *I* was of the matter. While I knew that I wasn't going to walk into a huge orgy by any means, I did perceive the possibility that the gathering was going to be incredibly sexual in nature; it was not.
Don't get me wrong, there were sections dedicated to some very mind-blowing kinks and a well-monitored 'adult' area where access for anyone not 'of age' was expressly denied, but it wasn't the focus of the event at all. A certain amount of camaraderie is possible only when you know you're truly understood and accepted by like-minded individuals-- I think that's what I really understood about the event. The St Louis convention really opened my eyes to what a true sub-culture could accomplish as a community, and I think my reporting of that illustrated that very well. It must have, because I've been invited every year.
It was the last day of the convention and I'd spent most of the day interviewing convention-goers... well, the ones who were open to answering some questions, that is. JD was, humorously enough, my arm-candy. It isn't much of a surprise that people at a Burb Dog and Leasher convention are much more likely to be willing to talk once they see you and your Guard Dog kiss. See... after two days of covering the Burb Dog and Leasher convention we were relatively at-ease with the event and most of the people who'd seen us there were perfectly at-ease with us too.
It's hard to really appreciate a gathering like that when you're actually working. There were a lot of events I would have liked to have seen and presentations I would have watched if I'd had the time, but that was one draw back for having someone else pay the bill; you were there to do what they wanted you to do.
Even so, it was an experience I wasn't going to forget any time soon. In fact, it was the first time I met some of the contacts that've helped me more than I realized they would at the time, but that's a story for another time. It DOES bring me to the whole point of this story though: impulsiveness.
We were spending our last night at the hotel. Each member of the crew had their own room but my Guard Dog and I shared one; it was economical for the company and it meant that we got some quiet time together too. When I say 'quiet time', I'm not implying anything... if you've never been to a convention then you have NO IDEA how loud, boisterous, and chaotic they can be. 'Quiet time' at a convention usually meant sleep... usually. And that's what ties this whole thing into the 'impulsiveness' topic.
The hotel room was a mini-suite; it had a main 'living room' area and a separate room with the bed. JD and I were reclining on the couch in the central portion of the hotel room. There was a TV, but neither of us really cared enough to turn it on. As usual, my Guard Dog was splayed out in his favorite spot: dead center on the couch, arms stretched across the backing as he gazed at the ceiling in contemplation. I was snuggled up against his side, cheek resting on his chest, back of my head pillowed by his bicep.
I can't think of anything more relaxing than reclining against my Dog. JD has a presence that is impossible to miss. Most people feel it as an imposing sense of danger, or so I'm told, but to me it feels like a benevolent force of protection, like some spiritual armor wrapping around me, warding off anything that would disturb my peace. I reached up and took hold of his paw that hung down over my far shoulder while my other hand rested on his thigh. It was a truly serene moment, and one I would have enjoyed to experience for hours on end. This is where the 'impulsive' issue comes in.
JD has been a fan of shorts ever since I could remember. While he wasn't opposed to wearing jeans, my Dog seemed to greatly enjoy long, knee-length shorts more than anything else. It didn't matter what the material was or whether they had pockets, zippers, buttons, or anything else; if they were shorts they were worth wearing. The largest problem I've had with his enjoyment of shorts is that they look so incredibly sexy on him... especially when he's shirtless. It was a warm night in St Louis and his shirt was crumpled on the floor, and, as they say, the stars were in alignment.
My hand on his thigh casually rubbed his leg through his shorts. JD chuckled, flicking an ear as he continued his gaze at the ceiling, "Using me as a napkin, huh?" he asked.
"Something like that." it was a simple response, but it was good enough. Being a practical Dog, JD always wore his belt loose in case he were to ever stumble upon a buffet opportunity; a loose belt is a perfect doorway for an errant hand, and I made good use of it. Without further provocation, my hand slid up to his waist and slipped in through the top of his shorts.
My lovingly easy-going Guard Dog continued to gaze upward at the ceiling. He was used to me touching him wherever I wanted, and he certainly had no qualms about personal space when it came to me. Once my fingers encircled his sheath, however, it certainly got his attention. His gaze dropped down to stare at his crotch where my hand, hidden beneath his shorts, began to fondle him in what I admit was a decidedly suggestive manner. The most amazingly wonderful expression of befuddlement hung from his muzzle, but it didn't last for long.
"If I didn't know better, I might start to think that you came here to pick up a few tricks from some of the Leashers." he grinned wickedly, comprehension spreading across his muzzle like wildfire.
I let go of his paw with my left hand and slid it around to the bottom of one of his shorts' legs. "Are you saying I don't know enough already?" I countered, my hand slipping inside through the space between his leg and the fabric. I curved my arm and bent my elbow as my fingers slid through the fur of his thigh, making JD quiver. A little line of saliva escaped his muzzle when my hand found his sac and began massaging it.
"So bored you finally decided to busy yourself with me, is that it?" he asked, trying in vain to play hard to get. He spread his legs wider despite his half-hearted playful rebuke. If those indicators weren't enough to reveal his interest then the thunderous roar of his over-excited tail beating out a quick tempo on the couch was a dead give-away.
"Well, you know what they say... idle hands, and all that." we both smiled at my response-- witticisms were usually more JD's department, but I think we could each appreciate the humor.
"Every time my paws are idle something gets broken." my Dog let out a soft, lust-filled growl.
"Promise?" I asked, before leaning in to kiss him. It was unfortunate that I delayed getting undressed because I really liked my shirt, but losing it in one powerful terrier tug was certainly an experience.
"Yes." his one word answer was more than enough to encourage me to get out of my pants before he decided to help with those too. Dressed only in my underwear, I returned both hands to his shorts, unclasping his belt as I sat on one of his legs, dressed only in my underwear.
If you ever have a chance to see a Dog staring at underwear I suggest you take it. There's some kind of reverence in their eyes no matter whether they're boxers, briefs, or boxer-briefs. I think it may have something to do with the fact that 99% of dogs don't wear any because of fur and tail problems that often come about from it... the results aren't pretty.
JD has always enjoyed watching me walk around in my underwear.. he says it's one of the sexiest things I wear, and that always makes me laugh. Even so, it's pretty much become a tradition at the apartment every Saturday morning-- he never gets tired of it, and it usually leads to our just-before-noon tradition... I don't think any clarification is needed.
True to form, JD was transfixed on me as I eased his shorts down. There's a certain excitement that comes from having such a profound effect on a powerfully massive lover like JD and I'd be lying if I didn't admit that it gave me a buzz every time he was 'under my spell'. From what I understand it's a common-enough mindset for humans that tend to seek out larger, more traditionally aggressive dogs, and they even have a name for it "Beauty and the Beast". To be honest, I don't really think I'm much of a 'beauty', and I'd never call my wonderful Dog a 'beast' unless it was a metaphor for something inappropriate, but, then again, I wasn't the one who coined the phrase.
JD is not a hard dog to read and, even though he has a variety of tastes, I've always been very good at picking out what 'flavor' he had a hankering for on any give night. There aren't many things that JD and I haven't tried over the years, and it's been an adventure learning everything he likes... but it's just as much fun experimenting on mixing the experience. JD's shorts hung from his ankles as I slid myself around to sit in his lap, my weight pressing against his groin and causing his sheath to retract.
"Now what are you up to?" my Guard Dog questioned, a bemused expression floating about on his muzzle, riding high on a deluge of lust.
"You'll find out soon." I answered, and drew my hands down his belly, pressing them between our bodies. I rubbed his sheath with my wrists, fingers netting together beneath his sac to cup it as I leaned forward and kissed his chest. JD let out a deep breath, lowering his muzzle to brush his broad, black nose through my hair, whiffing in a deep breath of my scent; it was something he always enjoyed doing when we were close together.
Making him wait no longer, I finally drew his sheath back, releasing his knot. My fingers tickled their way back up his groin until they could encircle his rapidly hardening flesh. Seated mostly in his lap, I wasn't exactly in the best position to have access to his member, but he hardly seemed to notice, hips shaking as my touch did all the work.
JD groaned as his eyes rolled back in his head, body starting to ungulate against my touch. Situated atop his hips as I was, my Dog actually lifted me up off of the sofa with each thrust. I'd never actually worked his flesh in such a way, weighing his hips down as I let him thrust into my fingers.
Though I'd sometimes sit on his hips and have him inside me while he was on his back he never gave it his all, often too worried that his knot would hurt me. I never truly realized how much he held back until that night. Two times I could have sworn I actually left his lap, rising up into the air an inch or two at the height of his thrust. Either way, I was ultimately forced to clamp down onto his knot to keep from falling off, and that was all he could stand.
The experience, he later told me, was out of this world... of course, how much of it was true enthusiasm and how much of it was excuse for only making it through two dozen thrusts I still don't know. One thing I DO know, however, is that sometimes life is just plain better with a little impulsiveness and some idle hands.