Rutt - Meet the Weredog Character
#11 of Weredog
For the last few years I've been brought in by the lovely furs over at Weredog to provide a story for their new characters. With their blessing, I'm going to be posting these stories!
I'd like to introduce you to Rutt, who has to replace the pool filters more often than you'd expect. You can find donger over here: https://weredog.co.uk/inventory/rutt/
"Your form could use some work."
You reach out and steady yourself against the side of the pool. The gym's swim instructor, Rutt, is staring down at you, a cocky smile on his broad snout. His ears perk forward, though the tips bob and sway in the typical rottweiler flop.
"You're going to hurt yourself if you keep up like that. Let me guess, your back is always sore after you swim, isn't it? I can help with that--teach you how to move so you're working with your own body rather than against it. Up to you."
It's a tempting proposition. His legs are spread around where your hands lay on the edge of the pool. His fur is wet, but slicked down you can see the muscles underneath his pelt. He's got a golden brown trail that trickles down through his chocolate fur, then disappears enticingly beneath his shockingly green spandex speedos. Oh, it's enticing, but you know how expensive private lessons can be. When you ask, he laughs.
"I save those prices for the team and Olympic wanna-be's. For you? How about this?" His thumb flicks at the hem of his spandex, and his thick sheath flops out. His cherry-red tip greets you like lipstick, still dripping from his last dip into the pool. "Got your attention, pup?"
You look around, but no one seems to have noticed. A hot breath hits your ear as Rutt leans down. "Never been to a Wednesday night swim? Why don't you worry about your strokes and I'll worry about the audience. Now show me your front crawl, pup."
His hands guide you in the water, lifting your chest and straightening your legs. He shows you how to kick and breathe correctly. Then you stop to catch your wind at the edge of the pool again, and the dog's behind you. One hand's on the poolside, and the other muscular arm is wrapped around your front. Fingers tug your swim trunks down. The water rocks around you as he carefully slides the first few inches inside. He's not so tough to fit, at least to begin with. He's smooth and hot slipping inside, then you feel the bulbs of his knot kissing your entrance.
The first pop makes you gasp as his knot slurps past your resistance. In a panic, you cover your mouth. Everyone must have heard you! People are looking your way with grins on their faces. Then broad fingers wrap around your cheek and tilt your head away from the audience. "Focus on me, pup. I'll worry about giving them a good show. Are you ready? Just nod your head for yes."
You feel empty again--and sore--as the thick knot pulls free again, then before it's gone more than a few inches, you feel it grinding against you again. In and out, once or twice a second. Then wide fingers slide down your belly and cup you, and you can't help yourself. You jerk and clench, peak dragged out of you by the thick dog behind you.
You're given only a few minutes to catch your breath as the dog pants loudly in your ear, before you feel the 'pop' of him pulling free. He lifts you bodily in the water, then pushes you back out into the lane. He relaxes back against the side of the pool, lewdly on display. "Good form, pup. Much better. Now give me five more laps, then I'll be ready again."