Man's Best Friend
Author's Note: the following story is a work of furry fiction, and may contain acst of yiffery between two male characters. Also, this may be considered to be a zoo story, since it involves interaction between a human and an animal. But, since the animal can talk, it fits the furry category. Either way, if this squicks you or you're not supposed to be reading this, GO AWAY. Otherwise, read on and enjoy. I would like to thank my mate, Tym, for being a bouncing board for ideas as I wrote it out loud one sunny afternoon.
FEEDBACK always welcome to [email protected]
Man's Best Friend ©MMIV Whyte Yoté
Evan sat in a corner booth in the diner, anxiously watching the front door. It was a traditional fifties-era diner, with chrome abounding, sparkly vinyl stools and booths, and a Wurlitzer jukebox set up by the lunch counter. Food sizzled in the kitchen, voices filled the air, and a steady stream of rock-and-roll favorites underscored the genial atmosphere of the place.
The diner was crowded to capacity with a typical Saturday night crowd, but the unassuming man in the corner remained alone and ever-watchful. His date was an hour late, and after going through every possible scenario why she could not have made it, Evan was finally coming to the conclusion that he had been stood up. Again. He sighed, checked his watch, and decided to give her just a little more time to arrive. Just in case.
Two hours later, there was little doubt in his mind what was up. He paid for his soda, leaving a hefty tip on the table since he didn't have to buy dinner for two, and tried to exit the diner without looking as if someone had just kicked him in the balls.
Once outside, he took a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and lit one. Usually, Evan reserved cigarettes for only two things: large celebrations or times of intense stress. Tonight's fiasco certainly wasn't the former, but it didn't quite fit the latter. He decided to make up a third category, called "Feeling Like Shit," and justified the smoke. It burned past the filter and he threw it to the ground, not bothering to extinguish it with his shoe.
He leaned against the front of the diner and asked himself why he even bothered trying to get girls anyway. Up until six months ago, the twenty-one-year-old student hadn't been even remotely interested in the game of dating or love. Then one night, at a friend's house party, he had been introduced to Rachel, a cute brunette with a gorgeous figure who had taken to him swiftly. Her reasons were honorable enough-she liked his shy and humble personality-but as time passed she came on to him all the more strongly. The night ended with both of them in his friend's bed, having celebratory cigarettes and Evan feeling as if he could not live without human contact for another day.
The one night stand turned out to be just that-one night. Rachel's attraction only ran so deep, and she couldn't get over his stocky 5-foot-11, 265-pound body. Neither could four other women and two blind dates since then. Only recently had his friends started setting him up online, without his permission, with girls he'd never seen. It was all the same: let's just be friends.
Evan grew more and more desperate with each breakup, and balked at the chance of one more possibility of a date. His friend assured him it was a sure thing, and this was a friend to be trusted. A guaranteed roll in the hay in his opinion, but for Evan it was another chance to get close to somebody. Now that chance was nonexistent. He didn't know what to do now. His friends were running out of resources, and he was much too shy to do anything on his own.
Calling his friend and chewing him out would accomplish nothing. He still had extra money from the dinner he hadn't bought, and he thought a drink or two might calm him down. Breathing in the crisp night air, he made his way further downtown.
* * *
The clock above the mantle chimed four times. Moonlight filtered in through the sheer curtains over the picture window looking onto the front yard. Twin beams illuminated the material, then traveled over its length as a car pulled into the driveway. There was a halting screech of tires, and a loud crunch as the vehicle slammed into the corner of the garage.
Decker, who had been sleeping uneasily by the front door, started and raised his head at the sound. The only disturbance so far tonight had been the phone, which had gone unanswered. Afraid of an intruder now, he paced from the door to the kitchen and back again. The car was idling now, and not moving. He padded to the front room and gained the sofa, peering through the curtains. The sound and shape of the vehicle was unmistakable, and he became instantly worried. He knew that tonight was supposed to be special for Evan, and if things were as he suspected, they had not gone well.
The German shepherd waited for a few long minutes, expecting something-anything-to happen. When his master did not open his door, Decker decided to take matters into his own paws. He trotted back through the kitchen, thankful that Evan had installed horizontal push-handles instead of knobs, and jumped up on the door leading into the garage. The handle gave easily, and Decker quickly walked through the garage and out his special doggy door into the back yard.
He broke into a run for the short distance to his master's car, and whimpered to himself when he saw the front end was buried in the woodwork of the garage. The vehicle sat like a dead thing in the early morning silence, puffing out clouds of rank exhaust. Decker raised himself up to the driver's side door and peered in. Evan was passed out in the front seat, his eyes puffy, his skin sallow. Even from this side of the window the dog could smell alcohol seeping through. Just how much he didn't know, but Evan never could hold his liquor.
Checking the neighboring houses to make sure he was not being watched, Decker returned to the car. He got up on his hind legs again and hooked a paw underneath the door's handle and pulled. The door opened, and Evan followed lifelessly, landing heavily on the driveway. He hadn't even been wearing a seatbelt.
The canine displayed skills and intelligence uncharacteristic of a normal dog. Then again, this was an uncharacteristic situation. He knew Evan's life was on the line; he had seen his master disappointed enough times to recognize it. The keys were still in the ignition, but Decker stuck his head inside and twisted them with his muzzle. He removed them and set them on the floor of the car.
Evan had not moved at all. Decker was almost in a panic, seeing his owner and friend in such a dire situation. He took the collar of the man's shirt in his teeth and began to drag him towards the garage and into the house. What had caused him to drink so much? He'd been dumped by girls before; what was so different about tonight?
Maybe tonight was the last straw, a voice in his head interrupted.
Girls were never important enough to risk his health over, though.
Maybe he was trying to kill himself.
A little butterfly was let loose somewhere between Decker's stomach and heart, the first inkling of fear. Could that be true? Was Evan's need for companionship so great that he thought it might be better to die than to live alone? And where did the faithful German shepherd stand in all of this? If his master killed himself, then how much could he have cared for his pet? None of it made sense.
Evan's heartbeat slowed, and Decker could feel it just above the skin on his master's neck. That was a bad sign. He pulled harder, adrenaline flooding his system, and managed to squeeze him in through the oversized doggy-door. The human's sneakers squeaked in protest along the linoleum of the kitchen, and slowed his progress on the carpet. Decker had to stop several times when Evan's dead weight became too much to bear. Normally, he wouldn't have been able to pull half that weight, but the canine's concern for his unconscious friend overrode any limitations.
At long last, the two entered the small bedroom. Decker got Evan's head to within two feet of the nightstand, and set it down gently. He wanted to get his master onto the bed, but a couple quick tugs ruled that possibility out. The dog was near exhaustion, and Evan had not moved or made a sound the entire time. All Decker could do was lay down beside the human with his head on the broad chest, feeling it rise and fall with a steady rhythm.
For a time, both pet and master fell into a deep sleep, dreamless and dark-the sleep of the weary and helpless. The dog hardly noticed when Evan stirred partway out of his intoxicated stupor. His foggy mind couldn't focus on things like the fact that he was in his house and his dog was asleep on top of him, but his messed up body definitely told him two things he needed at that moment: he needed relief, and he needed release. His eyes remained closed.
Blindly and automatically, he groped for his zipper and managed to open it with fingers that felt like they weighed a ton. Not minding the head of his German shepherd inches from his groin, Evan opened his pants without looking and pulled himself out of his boxers. All of this was done half-lucidly, somewhere in between sleep and wakefulness. The fact was, he was acting purely on instinct and order from his lower brain, his upper functions having ceased some time ago.
His hands stroked the already-hard flesh lightly, the sensations both sensitized and dulled somehow by alcohol. He never looked down. He merely kept on feeling along his length.
Decker awoke groggily, surprised that he had fallen asleep so quickly. He shook his head, and immediately was faced with his master's cock. The dog jumped up, certain that Evan would see him, but after a few moments of watching the clumsy and futile attempt to get off he realized that Evan didn't even know he was trying to masturbate. A goofy half-smile crossed Evan's face, and Decker felt even sorrier for him. He had seen Evan naked before, and most of the time he chose to let the canine stay when he got off, which usually happened twice a day. Sometimes he imagined what his master's essence tasted like, but like Evan's orgasms the feelings wore off as soon as he thought them.
But now...
Suddenly something very elemental had changed. Elated that Evan was sober enough (at the moment) to climb out of inebriation for a little jack-off session, his concern for him switched from saving his life to helping him in other ways. His conscience told him You can't do that it's not right what are you thinking but the dog dismissed it. If Evan sobered up after being fruitless in his pleasuring, he could still be out of it enough to possibly hurt himself. Better to help get him off and back to sleep than to risk that.
As soon as he had made his decision (justified, touted the little voice, which he dismissed again) it all suddenly seemed very sexy and taboo. The shepherd felt himself harden a little just from the thought, but turned his attention back to his owner. Evan's right hand now squeezed the shaft of his penis, while the left was deep in his pants, undoubtedly playing with his balls. He nuzzled the hand out of the way with his cold nose and almost pulled away when Evan moaned. Sniffing around the human's genitals, he made his master squirm on the floor, more to one side because his back was to the bed and prohibited movement the other way.
He moved so that his head hovered over Evan's cock, his rear legs roughly parallel to Evan's shoulders, hunched on the floor. He licked...and met the salty taste of bare flesh. Evan's whole body tensed up at once at the new feeling. Thankfully, he realized that someone was taking over for his hand but wasn't sober enough to see who it was, or even care. It just felt too good.
Decker had never done this with anyone other than himself, so he did his level best to pleasure Evan. Once he had gotten acquainted with the oddly-shaped member, his tongue danced along its surface, teasingly so. His master groaned weakly and settled back down, now that he no longer had to use his arms. The pink cock was shorter than average, but it was thick just like the rest of Evan. Even when it was erect the uncircumcised head was half-concealed underneath a fold of darker, almost brown, skin. Decker equated this to nothing more than a hairless sheath and lengthened the strokes of his tongue along the loose flesh.
The member stood almost straight up Evan's chest, a perfect position for the dog's muzzle to take it full-on. The human had all but fallen back asleep, most likely fantasizing as he was being sucked off. Sharp teeth nipped at his foreskin, pulling it out and down under the sensitive head, and Decker encased the entire thing in his mouth. He smiled around his mouthful of man meat, feeling Evan hump jerkily to gain extra stimulation, and bobbed his shaggy head to meet the thrusts. Both were enjoying themselves for the moment.
Time seemed of no importance as the German shepherd stood over his master, slathering the cock in his muzzle as his own inched its way out of his sheath. The canine closed his eyes and began twisting his head as he bobbed and licked, adding new direction to Evan's bliss. Evan tensed, relaxed, and tensed again, and Decker sensed a minute change in his master's smell that indicated an inevitable climax. He raised his left paw and slid it over Evan's substantial belly and under the elastic of his boxers. It was bathed in the heat of his groin, and curled around his balls. Decker unsheathed his claws and dug gently in, coaxing the orbs of their precious seed.
Seconds later, the half-conscious man arched his back and Decker was rewarded with several shots of cum that bypassed his mouth and went straight down his throat. With a choked whimper, he backed off and allowed the dwindling remains to land on his tongue, which was now caressing Evan's spent cock. He bottomed out one last time and pulled off slowly, enjoying his master's grunts of overstimulation.
The removed his paw and stood again, licking his chops. He was disappointed in the human's small offering, but reveled in the sacredness of being one with his master by tasting his seed. Tonight, though, it was bitter and tasted like the alcohol Evan had been ingesting the entire night. He still counted his blessings, including when he looked down at the floor. If Evan had been passed out before, he was all but dead now, having gone right through the afterglow into deep sleep. Decker too had lost his erection and had to face reality again. Back to business.
The German shepherd waited, anxious, for Evan to stir again, but for an hour nothing happened. In this time, the dog thought heavily on a number of things. He asked himself the same questions as before, and tried to answer them. There were some things that were obvious, but still so many more questions resulted from those answers that Decker soon gave up on them. In the end, he knew he had to break some regulations. His master's life hung in the balance, and he wasn't about to be left alone to be taken to the Humane Society.
This was the exception to the rule.
Evan lay dead to the world on the floor of his little house, unaware that his dog had turned on the desk lamp, nosed a pen out of the little holder, and used a paw to separate a sticky note from its yellow pad. He didn't notice when Decker clicked the pen and put it in his mouth. Didn't make a sound when the ballpoint rolled across the paper, guided by a canine nose. Heard nothing in the fifteen minutes it took the canine to scrawl something onto the note. He moaned once and turned on his side, but by the time he shifted position again, the lamp had been turned out and the room lay silent and dark.
The only difference was a little yellow sticky note on his door just below the doorknob.
* * *
Waking up the next morning is always an unpleasant experience.
Bars of light shone through the window, casting a harsh bright pillar through the space between the curtains and onto the opposite wall. Evan opened his eyes. Little voices in the back of his head screamed, and blood rushed upwards. His vision trebled, and at that moment thousands of tiny white bugs danced and swirled in front of his eyes. He held himself steady until the feeling passed, but the bugs did not go away. After focusing a bit closer, he discovered it was now just bits of dust in the light of the midmorning sun.
A few seconds passed before Evan's mind recalled the events of the previous night. He had gone to the diner, his date never showed up, and he had a cigarette. The smoke was the last thing he remembered, and that was not a good sign. He had never gotten so drunk as to actually not remember something. How he had gotten home, or in his room, didn't matter as much as the fact that he was home, was in his room. Evan looked down his chest, and couldn't recall why his pants were unbuttoned and his genitals were being held prisoner between his abdomen and an elastic waistband. Whatever had happened, he thought, it must have been good. But still...
It took Evan some time to get up and moving, because his position on the floor was not orthopedic in the least. Once standing, he wriggled out of his clothes and tossed each article into the hamper in his closet. Dressed only in his boxers, he shuffled to his computer screen. He had just gotten done checking his email when his stomach reminded him of just how dehydrated and hungry he was.
The kitchen wasn't far away, so he wobbled to the door and saw the curious addition of the sticky note. He took it and raised it to his face, expecting to see flowing cursive thanking him for a wonderful romp in the hay, as his friend had put it. Instead he found a rudimentary scrawl in black Sharpie, seemingly drawn by a two-year-old child. Evan had to squint to read the note, but the message was simple:
HILTOP PARK. 2:30 PM. WE NEED TO TALK, IMPORTENT.
A small scoff escaped his lips, usually sounding so masculine but fading to nothing in his empty bedroom. What was this? Anybody with an elementary education wouldn't make the spelling errors in that note. Granted, it was cute, but come on-if this was a joke, it was poorly conceived.
Hilltop Park (again Evan thought of the misspelled note) was only a few blocks from his house, situated-where else-on the top of a hill. Good for picnics, excellent for sunsets. He could drive there in two minutes, but a walk would be more relaxing. Besides, he could try and figure out what the note was supposed to mean. That is, if he were even going to go to the park.
Curiosity nagged at the back of his mind. Of course he would go; he had no reason not to. He felt guilty about getting so drunk last night, as if an alcoholic rebellion would somehow fix his love life. It wasn't like him. And, his life hadn't improved one iota, except for the phantom blowjob he may or may not have had last night. There was also that to prove.
The note almost fell from his fingers when his stomach spoke up powerfully. Evan had to get some nourishment into his dehydrated body before he left for the park, or else he would never make it through the day. The alarm clock beside his bed showed the day had already pressed on into afternoon; its red luminescent numerals read 12:30.
Evan donned a pair of loose-fitting cargo shorts and made his way to the kitchen. After a short meal, he returned to the bathroom. He splashed water on his face and shook away the coldness of it against his skin. He looked up at himself. A dissatisfied man stared back at him. He was only 21, but he carried the extra luggage of insecurities about him. Although he lived by himself, except for Decker, he knew he had a lot of growing up to do yet. Not social by nature, he was the wallflower at school dances, the buffet-watcher at receptions, the single table at restaurants. He had learned to please and entertain himself easily, but when it came to other people Evan didn't have a clue.
Then there was his weight. It had come in handy when he played football in high school. Now, three years later, he still carried his college weight (it turned out to be a case of Freshman 50 instead of 15) and it played heavily on his conscience. Surrounded by magazines, billboards and television ads, his easily-influenced personality had fallen victim to the media's status quo. This caused him to be very self-conscious sometimes, and was the cause of rare but serious panic attacks in public places. The pills he took worked for the most part. Nonetheless, Evan saw his obesity as a major obstacle to any relationship, especially his.
His stomach cramped on itself, as if he were about to cry, on his way back to the kitchen. No time to think about that now, stupid, he thought as the wonderful smell of bacon and eggs cooking wafted through the kitchen. Nothing like breakfast in the afternoon. He wolfed down the food, chasing it with orange juice and glass after glass of water. Feeling refreshed, Evan headed out the door and began to walk toward Hilltop Park. He noticed his car, its front end buried in the wood of his garage, decided to think about that later, and walked past.
In his excitement and concern, he didn't even stop to notice that his beloved German shepherd was nowhere to be seen.
* * *
Evan arrived at the park in only ten minutes. He did feel better then he had the night before, but he couldn't deny this was not one of his better hangovers. The day was sunny and cold, typical for March, but seemed overly bright to him. His senses were making up for being numbed last night, and his head seemed to echo with sensitivity.
At the highest point in the park stood a playground with a large sandbox underneath it. Benches stood within twenty feet, a reasonable distance for parents to supervise their children without interfering in their games of innocence. Evan plopped down onto one of these benches. Since they were visible from the rest of the park, he figured whomever had written the note would be looking for him anyway.
He sat, positioning himself self-consciously so that he wouldn't look as awkward as he felt. Scanning the park, he tried to find the one who had written the note, if they were there yet. Groups of children in the sandbox and on the swings (no), an elderly couple picnicking on the grassy slope (no), a waifish bronzed woman sunning on a beach towel (fat chance), a few young men and women walking and playing with their dogs (no-oh, SHIT!)...
Evan stood up so fast his head swam, reminding him of his still-fragile condition. His legs gave out and he let himself sink onto the ground, holding his head, lying against the foot of the wrought-iron bench. A swarm of black butterflies blocked his vision, but soon evaporated. Decker...he hadn't seen Decker this morning at all, and he'd been too preoccupied with himself to even notice. Where was he?
Lifting his head to the bright day, the world came into sharp, contrasty focus. The people and dogs had moved on. There was a choice to be made: either he could stay here and wait for the mystery note-writer, or he could hurry home and see what had happened to his dog. There wasn't much of a decision to be made. Decker came first, always.
He was just about to pick himself up when a cold, wet nose rooted in his right armpit. Jerking around, Evan turned to see none other than the face of his own German shepherd, seeming to grin up at him. The dog was overjoyed to see him, bounding up and down, his tail wagging so hard it drug his rump back and forth along with it.
"Hey, boy! What the hell are you doing here?" Evan patted his leg and Decker trotted up to him. The canine licked his face, and he rolled the muzzle in his hands, scritching him all over. Decker sat down on his stomach, panting despite the cool temperature and patches of snow on the otherwise brown grass. He said nothing, of course.
"Hmm...well, you probably got out last night. Anything could have happened last night." Decker snorted, almost indignantly. Evan sighed, thought about calling the whole thing off, and reconsidered. He pulled himself up onto the bench again to sit. The dog sat up on his haunches, watching Evan closely. "I just don't know, you know? I wish I could remember."
Decker shifted uneasily. Evan looked straight ahead, and reached out a hand to ruffle up the brown-and-black fur between his ears. Gods, Decker loved that feeling! It didn't, however, ease his nervousness at what he had to do. A low whine escaped him before he could suppress it. Evan noticed.
"What's wrong? You hungry?" Evan asked, looking for affirmation in Decker's deep eyes. His pet averted them and gazed away into the distance. The confused man stopped scritching, and settled his hand on the nape of Decker's neck, and the dog nuzzled back onto his palm, whining again. It wasn't the same reaction he got when his dog was hungry; it was almost as if he were worried about something Evan couldn't yet sense.
He was about to return to waiting, not noticing that 2:30 had come and gone with nary a person to be seen, when Decker stood and abruptly walked behind the bench. Evan tried to follow with his gaze but couldn't turn around far enough. When the dog came back in front of him, he jumped up onto the bench beside him. This was unlike Decker, the trained German shepherd, who would speak only when spoken to and follow orders only from Evan. Though it was an act of disobedience, he gave Decker the benefit of the doubt.
Decker opened his muzzle and something fluttered out of it onto his thigh. He picked it up, recognizing it as another sticky note from his room. Butterflies alit in his chest again, but this time he didn't know what to feel. On the note, written in the same thick, Sharpie-scrawl, read:
DONT SCREAM.
Evan didn't know what to make of it. If this was another part of the joke, it was neither good nor funny. He held the paper in front of him until a paw pushed his hands down to his lap. Decker was looking at him, silent. His eyes seemed to bore into Evan's for what seemed like an interminable moment. Then the dog blinked, and both returned to normal. At least, for the next few seconds. His German shepherd stood, put a paw on his shoulder, and brought his muzzle to his master's ear. Evan prepared himself for a tongue bath, but instead got the shock of his life.
"What are..."
Decker's breath fell like busy insects on his ear. There was the familiar sound of licking lips, and he leaned as close to Evan as he dared.
"I'm worried about you," whispered from the canine's mouth in almost perfect English.
Evan heard the words, even registered them...but freaked out nonetheless. Yelling like Shaggy in one of the old Scooby-Doo cartoons, he pedaled backward from his dog on the bench, found the edge and reverse-somersaulted onto the pavement. He righted himself, rubbing the back of his skull and cursing, then his attention was brought back to the dog that had just talked to him.
Decker was still on the bench, but he had now sat down again and his chin overlooked him, disdaining and concerned. It didn't take him long to gather up his courage and ask, "Are you all right, Evan?"
Evan didn't know anything at the moment. His mind refused to go forward; it wanted to deny what had just happened, but with cold realization he knew that wasn't an option. The gravity of it all was too overwhelming to accept. He pulled himself onto his knees and looked his dog in the face. Their noses almost touched. Decker's eyes were the same bright, intelligent yellow-brown they had always been, and they were looking directly back into his own.
"Hi," said Decker. Evan was so close he actually saw the shepherd's black lips form the words.
"Hi," he replied, strapped for speech at the moment. The pursuing silence was long, and grew heavier with each passing moment. Evan found that he couldn't look at Decker anymore, so he kept busy looking everywhere else. Decker hadn't planned beyond this, and he had no idea of what to do. Finally, he spoke up.
"Do you want to sit up here with me?"
Still in shock, Evan decided he wouldn't have a cardiac arrest if he just flowed with the situation. He crawled back up onto the bench and put his left hand in his lap, his right one on top of Decker's head. It was just a normal reaction, nothing more, something to take his mind off the seemingly impossible situation with which he was faced at the moment.
Decker yawned and sighed, grateful Evan hadn't completely lost it. "You have no idea how good that feels, master, to finally have you understand me."
Evan started. Master? Where does he get off calling me that? he wondered. He was more than flattered, and it did well to ease the tension. "Well, I think I'll do it more often. And you don't have to call me Master if you don't want to."
"Whatever you say," replied the canine in true obedient fashion. He crawled closer to Evan, his front paws splayed over his master's legs, his head almost touching the crotch of his jeans. The faint smell from last night lingered just below the denim, still smelling a bit like alcohol but still the same old Evan.
The human ran a hand through his thick, brown hair. "There's gotta be a camera around here somewhere. What kind of a joke is this? I just hope I win something worth coming up here with a hangover for."
Decker sensed a myriad of emotions from his master...er, Evan. Confusion, shock, denial, incredulity, even a little fear. They were all there, and all were fighting for control. It hurt to see him like this, and for a split-second the dog wished he could take his decision back. It didn't last long. He looked up at Evan's chin, prompting the human to look back down at him.
Enunciating very slowly and very carefully to make sure Evan knew it wasn't a trick, he said, "Please don't make this harder than it has to be. Just believe me when I say this is not a farce."
Still feeling like he was part of a skit, Evan just relented for the time being. "Oh, come on, Decker. You can't possibly know how I feel. I mean, my dog is talking to me, for God's sake!"
"You don't have to sound so accusatory. After all, you wanted me to in the first place."
Evan eyed the canine dubiously. "What are you talking about?" he said, and almost burst out laughing at the double entendre.
"Shortly after you got me, when you were fourteen, we were playing in the snow. You hugged me, and said 'Gee, Decker, I wish you could talk.' When your parents caught you looking at porn on their computer and you got grounded, you slammed the door and told me you wished I could talk because I was the only one who could listen. Almost every time you got dumped and dragged your feet home, you always smiled at me. And you said you wished you could talk to me. Do I need to go on, because there's a lot more-"
"I get your point." Evan thought it over, trying to remember all those times but not being able to. Decker had, though. Wow. "Well, why did you wait all this time to start talking to me now?"
The German shepherd smiled knowingly. "You're one of the lucky ones. Usually, most dogs go their entire lives without speaking. I had no choice."
The human leaned forward a bit, curious now. "Go on."
Decker drew a deep breath and exhaled forcefully. "There's more to pets than you think, than all humans think. It isn't a set of rules or anything, but there are some things you do and don't do. Being around humans day and night, we pick up on things. Almost all pets learn how to understand human language. Most can learn to speak, if given enough time. Some learn to read and write, but almost none get the chance to do any of that. The only time a pet can reveal its knowledge to its owner is when the owner's life or the lives of others are in danger, and intervening will help the situation."
"So why did you speak to me?" asked Evan.
"I'm getting to that. Certain breeds of dogs are smarter than others. Poodles, believe it or not, are the smartest of all dogs. German shepherds like me are in the top ten. I'll tell you this: if I were a Pomeranian we wouldn't be having this discussion."
Evan urged Decker to continue. "So..."
"Why did I speak to you?" The canine's tone was underlined with a little anger now. "Just imagine what you would feel when your best friend comes home eight hours after his date is supposed to start, drunk and almost poisoned, and passes out in the driveway? I had to drag you into the house, over the carpet, and into your room with my teeth. My jaw still hurts." Not just from the dragging, the little voice spoke up again. Decker remained silent.
"You dragged me all that way? But why?" Evan already knew the answer, but he still needed to hear it out loud.
"Evan, I care about you very much." The human was surprised at how natural the canine sounded when he spoke. The accent sounded almost exactly like his, probably because it was Evan who had inadvertently taught him to speak over seven years. "I had to live with you being rejected time after time, and I knew it would eventually wear you down. As much as I didn't want to believe it, I knew you would resort to something drastic. If I didn't tell you how much you mean to me now, I was afraid you might end up killing yourself. I don't want to go to the pound, Evan. I love you too much to let you be hurt."
Evan couldn't speak.
Decker spoke weakly, choked with emotion. "I love you too much." Dogs can't cry, so he did the only thing he could: he laid his head on Evan's thigh and whimpered into his shirt. It was his last plea for help.
Tears welled in Evan's eyes. Now he couldn't care less that his dog had started talking to him. It was, in fact, the best thing to happen to him in years. Why? his mind asked. How can he feel that way, he's only a dog! Another voice countered. Maybe it's especially because he's a dog.
It was true. The gravity of risk Decker had taken by talking was incalculable. It was something not many pets shared with their owners, by the sound of it. In a way, he was glad he had almost died of alcohol poisoning last night. He couldn't be thankful for it, exactly, but he was grateful of the outcome. He could never repay Decker for bringing master and pet closer than ever.
But what he did do was hug the furry black and brown head, leaning over the canine and laying his head on Decker's back. He stroked the cream-colored tummy like he always did, whispering in his ear, "Please don't do that, it's gonna be all right. Please stop crying." But now both of them were crying, in their own ways.
They clutched each other in the winter afternoon sunshine, the shadows around them cast long and colorless over the dead ground. A gentle breeze had begun. A few dead leaves rolled wet and heavy along the snow.
Decker stopped whimpering, and Evan lifted his head. The dog's right thigh was matted and wet. The human sniffed, wiped his face, and roughed up the fur as best he could to dry it. Evan's watch beeped; it was already past three o'clock.
"Let's go home and get out of the cold. What do you say?" He patted the dog's head.
Decker lolled his tongue out of his muzzle and licked Evan from neck to forehead along the right side of his face. He was in a playful mood now, but neither had the energy at the moment. "I'd like that."
Evan stood up and began walking in the direction of his house. Both were silent for a few minutes, but Evan took the time to think a few things over. Finally, he asked, "So you wrote the note then?"
"Yeah, while you were asleep on the floor. Sorry about the spelling and writing. It's hard to do that with your mouth."
"No way. I think it's amazing." Thinking about last night, one detail crossed his mind. "Decker?"
"Hm?"
"Was there anyone else with me last night? Because I woke up with my boxers pulled down, and I can't remember how they got that way."
Decker was glad he was walking in front of Evan, because he was smiling with pride at the memory. "They got that way because I put them there." He took a few more steps forward before he realized that Evan had stopped dead behind him. He turned to see his master gawking down at him.
Evan hurried over and kneeled on the sidewalk exiting the park, looking into Decker's eyes. They burned with both excitement and anxiety; Decker took his chances.
"I didn't want you to wake up and see me writing the note. And...well...you weren't doing too good a job on yourself, so I took over."
The human hadn't been prepared for news like this, or the reaction he would have. He was instantly hard at the thought that his German shepherd had sucked him off last night as he lay half-comatose on the floor of his bedroom. He found himself wondering just how it would feel to have a long, warm muzzle and dexterous tongue over his maleness. Oh, why couldn't he remember?
"I hope you're not angry with me. I was just trying to be loyal, like always," Decker apologized.
Evan hugged his pet tight again, licking the tip of his black nose before he thought to the contrary. "If I ever deny you the chance to be a loyal pet," he admonished, "you have my permission to bite some sense into me."
Decker laughed and said, "Speaking of which...you haven't fed me today. I'm awful hungry."
"As soon as we get home, buddy."
Evan stood and the two made their way down the hill and back to a home that would never be the same. Decker's mind had turned to food, but Evan had things of his own weighing heavily on his mind. They whirled about crazily, randomly, each thought more outrageous than the next. His jeans were suddenly very uncomfortable.
* * *
Evan and Decker talked all the way home. First, both had a chance to tell the other just how they felt. Evan admitted wanting Decker to be able to talk pretty much most of Decker' life, and the canine admitted wanting to but never having sufficient chance, according to the rules. They agreed that in most cases, the friendship between master and pet became much stronger, if not inseparable.
They took their time, making sure not to be conspicuous about Decker's speech, and made several circuits of the neighborhood. By the time Evan looked at his watch again, it was almost time for dinner. Decker bounded around with puppy-like energy, leading his master to home and to food.
Evan had something special on his mind, as a thank-you for his best friend, and he cooked it medium-rare.
He set two gigantic steaks on the dining room table. Evan's came accompanied by a baked potato, steamed vegetables, steak sauce and red wine. Decker's came with...extra juice. He called the dog, who had been resting in the living room, over to eat with him. Decker padded up to the table, where his master was already sitting, looked in his food dish, and came up empty.
"Where is it?" he asked, confused.
"Up here, silly. From now on, I won't have you eating off the floor like any old dog. You mean too much to me now." He gestured to the chair across from him, which sat in front of a steaming plate. Decker's eyes brightened, and just about popped out of his head when he hopped up on the chair and saw the slab of meat in front of him. His jaw dropped and he drooled like a Pavlov dog, but was quick to catch himself.
He looked up at Evan, whose smile looked to stretch the sides of his face to his ears. "I...well, er...oh, uh..." All that talking this afternoon, and now he had nothing he could say.
"Don't. You deserve it. Good boy." Decker panted at this last familiar compliment and took a long lick of his steak. Gods, it was absolutely heavenly!
The rest of the meal was spent in relative silence, as the carnivore and his relatively carnivorous master chowed down on the expensive cuts of meat. When they were both sated, the plates (both spotlessly cleaned) were set into the sink to soak. Master went to the garage to switch out the battery on his car, while pet retreated back to the living room to watch television. Evan thought to himself, it almost doesn't seem right to just go back to the way things used to be. Decker can talk now, shouldn't that make a difference? Of course it did, but they would have plenty of time for that in the future. He supposed, like all things, life goes on despite the unusual.
Almost an hour went by before Evan shut the hood of his car, turned the ignition to make sure the electrical system was working properly, and passed from the garage back into the house. His white wife-beater (it was reserved only for dirty work and never left the house on him) was stained with dirt and grease, and a fine sheen of perspiration had settled on him. He rinsed off, changed clothes, and went into the living room to watch TV with Decker.
When he saw the television, there was nothing but snow on the screen. Sitting on the couch with a thud, he looked around for the remote and didn't find it. "Decker-" he began, but stopped himself when he saw the dog was sleeping beside him, propped up on his left side by a few pillows. Evan searched the room, under the couch and recliner, but turned up nothing. There was only one option left, and Decker was lying right on top of it.
The human reached gingerly over to a throw pillow behind the dog's back, and pulled it. Slowy, it barely budged at first, but the resistance grew lesser with each inch gained. With a final tug, it came free, and Evan found what he was looking for-and quite a bit more. All of a sudden television didn't seem as important.
When the pillow had been removed from behind Decker, it had caused the dog to roll over onto his back. He was still asleep, front paws curled over his slowly rising and falling chest. His cream-colored fur there was mussed up a bit from his position, but that wasn't the most obvious thing. The German shepherd's rear legs now hung wide open, exposing his assets to the world. His sheath, its characteristic thick cylindrical shape covered in the same light fur, moved with his breath. Evan saw that at the tip, the skin was black and bare of fur, looking more like an anus than a canine foreskin. Just below, Decker's testicles stood out against his groin, covered in black fur and pulled tight in his compromising position.
The remote control lay just under the dog's left rear leg, but was disregarded. Evan went so erect so fast that it hurt. Quickly, he adjusted himself through his jeans. He regarded his dog as if he were a statue of some powerful god, reverently, silently. For the third time in a day, he found himself not only attracted to, but aroused by his dog. Some of that was something he couldn't explain.
Was he a zoophile? No, he'd never had feelings like this before, and he had been witness to several sets of canine anatomy while working on his Veterinary Science and Animal Husbandry merit badges in scouts. But now...something had changed. The other half, as far as he could think, was based on his relationship to Decker as an owner and a friend. He had been through a lot with this dog; puberty, high school, numerous breakups, and now his faithful companion had basically saved his life by revealing something that was never meant to be revealed.
Evan thought back to last night, and this afternoon. He couldn't remember trying to masturbate, but he could almost recall a very good dream he'd had. The fact was, Decker had sucked him off, and he wanted to feel that, dammit. For real. A girl could only go so far, but that dog loved him. Really loved him. It was different, and although he couldn't explain it, he knew he owed Decker for the act and the favor. His love ran just as deep and as strong, and actions can explain volumes where words fail. Sometimes words just can't cut it.
He began by giving Decker a good chin rub. The dog raised his head in response, but didn't wake. The fingers moved lightly, swiftly, down to between his upraised front paws, where they were joined by the other hand. He scritched with his fingertips, then flattened his palms and rubbed in a wax-on-wax-off motion. Decker relaxed even more, and his rear legs spread as wide as they could go.
The human caressed Decker's sides, tracing where the cream fur of his underbelly met the small line of black fur, then turned brown. He was so close to the thing he wanted the most to touch, but his heart felt as if it would burst from his chest from nervousness. Decker's tail drummed on his right thigh.
Time had run out; he had to act. He leveled his right hand right over the lump of fur with its black tip, feeling the heat and somehow sensing power from it. He willed his mind to touch his dog, to do all the things that were now the only thing in his mind. Instead, his hand moved down and settled on Decker's scrotum.
"Oh, man..." Evan gasped, nonplussed. It was so warm, so like his own, that he was used to the feeling almost immediately. Decker's balls were smaller than his, but the feel of loose skin was familiar. He cupped them, massaged them, making sure to feel every part of them. He dragged a finger around the perimeter of the sac of skin and fur, and let his motion take him further south, towards the dog's tailhole.
Decker stirred at the touch. "You like that, don't you? Good boy, very good boy..." Evan was in a trance. He could feel every fur, and it was unbelievably warm. He brushed the skin of the dog's hole, and brought his finger to his face. Nothing. It wasn't like he expected. No odor, no dirtiness. Just the smell of flesh, and the familiar scent of Decker. He had moved to a new level with his pet. He was no longer just an owner. He had done things that just owners could never do. They had shared scents. Oddly, Evan found this concept very attractive, and suddenly his clothes felt very restricting. He had to taste his pet.
The clothes found their way to the floor, and Evan was nude on the couch in the same position. He lowered his mouth to Decker's tailhole and inhaled. Fur and flesh and the shepherd's own scent, mixed with his own. He stuck his tongue out before he knew it, and licked a line from the bottom of the scrotum down to his anus. Decker stirred again, and opened his mouth. His sheath had gained a sense of direction now, pointing a bit stiffly toward his head. Evan could see an inch or so of pink peeking out, as if in encouragement to continue.
He did just that, but now he wanted to concentrate on rimming his pet. Despite Decker's now furious wagging of his tail, Evan had clear access to the little pink bud. He descended once again, lapping at and around the sensitive flesh, feeling it twitch and push back at him. His tongue circled, dove, circled, stabbed, and finally entered. He was greeted with warm, wet flesh, comfortable and alive.
Evan's nose was buried in dog balls, his chin covered in fur, as he bobbed forward and tried to mimic a pumping motion with his tongue. He couldn't get any further in, but it was enough. After a few minutes he was tired, and he pulled out. Decker surprised him by sighing audibly and speaking.
"Gods, master, don't stop...please." Evan looked up to see Decker had woken up and had a paw curled around his emerging cock as far as it would go. He stroked as best he could, but without an opposable thumb it was near impossible. His head was propped up on the edge of the couch, and he gazed at Evan with gratitude in his dark eyes.
"You didn't tell me you were awake," Evan said mock-accusingly, Pulling himself up and over Decker to be face-to-muzzle with him. He lowered himself onto his pet, the fur against his skin heavenly.
"I didn't want you to stop."
"Neither did I, but I wasn't aware of how much a workout it is," Evan admitted. Besides, I would much rather do other things to you. Or with you, whichever you want."
"Why are you doing this? Aren't you afraid of getting in trouble?"
"It's not that hard to pull the shades down, silly. I love you. Now, more than ever, because you showed me today that I've taken you for granted. I'm never going to do that again."
"You never took me for granted, master. I-" Evan clamped his muzzle shut with a hand.
"Stop with the master stuff. From now on, we're partners and friends. I guess I still own you, but that makes no difference. No more master, okay?"
Evan took his hand away and Decker smiled. "Okay," the dog said, and darted his tongue into his owner's half-open mouth.
The man rolled his eyes. "Oh, can't you do better than that?" No sooner than he had said it, his dog reached up with his forelegs and pulled down with amazing power. Mouth met muzzle, and the entire length of Decker's tongue was inside Evan's mouth, playing over his own tongue. Evan was drawn in, never having kissed like this before but getting the hang of it fairly quickly. He let his dog do the work, feeling the long, warm flesh explore his teeth and mouth, even his upper throat. Kissing a human would never be the same.
Decker broke the kiss and leaned back, giving Evan opportunity to lick and nip his wet black nose. The canine shuddered and snuffled. At last, the man asked the question that, although neither would have liked to admit it, had been on both their minds for the evening.
"What do you want to do, Decker?" The dog looked undecided, as if he wasn't expecting to make the decision. He closed his eyes in thought, and when he opened them again they held him with their pure, wanton lust.
"I want to taste you again."
Evan needed no further prodding and hardly hesitated to pull Decker down a little onto the couch, so just his head was inclined on the armrest. He then closed the canine's legs so he could shuffle himself up the length of his body. His balls brushed the semi-hard sheath, and both paused to let the pleasure pass. Decker's mouth opened wider as the head of Evan's cock bobbed closer, still half-encased in its foreskin.
As soon as he was within reach, Decker began licking wildly on the head, and over more of the shaft as Evan gripped the edge of the couch and pulled himself to close the gap. His dog growled over his penis, bobbing forward and back, warm and wet and heavenly. He leaned back a bit and was content to just look down, still not quite believing that his cock was being sucked on by his pet. The cold nose hit his groin, assuring him it was quite real.
Decker went about his task with gusto, as happy as he could ever remember. The flesh became slick with his saliva, and Evan tensed up every now and then when he hit a rather sensitive spot. The human would come close, but never too close to present a danger of climaxing too soon. Decker had plans and didn't want them spoiled. His tongue pressed into the underside of the hairless cock, sliding the skin over the length and eliciting a moan from above.
"Oh, good boy. Just like that...aaaahhh." Evan had never experienced something this strong before. It was amazing how he could feel this much without coming like crazy. He would hit a plateau, rise up slowly onto another one, and stay there for a while before rising again. Each time the pleasure was slightly different. He was so preoccupied with himself that he hardly noticed as Decker's cock unsheathed itself over his fuzzy belly and toward Evan's buttocks.
Nearly nine inches of German-bred doggy cock was exposed to the air, and the tapered tip just barely touched the cleft of skin. Evan felt this despite his preoccupation, and reached back and felt for the sheath. His hand closed around the dog's forming knot, still inside, and freed it from its prison. Decker humped a couple of times against his owner. Evan spat on his hand and slicked up the incredibly hot member, feeling but not seeing its unusual shape and color.
A whine escaped Decker's muzzle, followed by several sharp gasps. He let Evan's cock slide out of his mouth for a moment. The shock of being touched there, with another's hand, lit up his system like setting an electrical breaker. Small clear streams of precum jetted from his cock, coating Evan's hand and further lubricating it. All he could do was look at the ceiling and try to remain in control.
"Stop," he said, finally and reluctantly. "Please...stop, Evan. I can't take it."
Evan grinned, pleased at the good job he was doing. "Sorry, I didn't realize that felt so strong for you."
"Why do you think it's covered most of the time? It's too sensitive to hang out.," Decker pointed out, and Evan nodded in agreement. He started to stroke himself again.
"How did you learn to suck cock so well?" he asked, and the dog looked as if he were blushing.
"Dogs in the neighborhood get pretty lonely. We don't want to be responsible for puppies, so us males take care of each other, in whatever way we can. Sometimes it's just a helping paw or muzzle, but sometimes we need the real thing. It's hard to work up to."
"I bet," the human said, and his mind was filled with arousing images. He pictured Decker in an alley behind some trashcans. He was being taken by some random male dog, probably some stray. Maybe even the neighbors' Doberman Pinscher. Another dog crawled under the German shepherd and began licking at his dangling erection...
Evan turned on top of the canine so that now the shining red flesh was bobbing lazily in front of his face, a thin clear line of pre connecting the tip and Decker's bellyfur. He licked at it, and his tongue came away coated with the liquid. It was bitter and a bit meaty, but its essence was masculine and strong.
Grasping the sheath and the base of his knot in his hand, Evan tried to mimic what he had seen Decker doing to his cock. It wasn't long before he had gotten the motion down, moving from base to tip, round the head, letting his tongue dance and slide and help out with the sweet spots. He could only fit four inches or so in, but Decker was having fun nonetheless.
Suddenly, his hole was being given a tongue bath. Decker had enough control of himself to go back to work on his owner, using his ridiculously long tongue to probe deep within Evan's passage. His body seemed to warm from the inside out, radiating Decker's breath from within. He was so excited that he forgot to pace himself and he felt Decker climaxing almost before it was too late.
Decker passed the point of no return seamlessly, and was barely able to moan out, "Gonna come." It sounded more like a hitching, breathy growl. Evan took his mouth away, dismounted Decker, and stood over him with a hand firmly planted on the red shaft, squeezing and pulling. The dog looked up at him with wide eyes, and jerked his rear legs in a futile attempt to hump his master's hand.
It was quite satisfying for Evan to see what pleasure he was giving to Decker. He stopped pulling on the dog's cock and just held it right above the swelling knot, clenching his fingers with its pulse. Arching his back, Decker screwed his eyes shut, laying his ears down and throwing his head back over the arm of the couch. His furry body went stiff. Evan felt the shots pass under his fingers, watching a split second later as Decker coated himself with semen.
The canine's member was huge, red and raw. Ropes of thin, white fluid exploded over Decker's head, across his muzzle, crisscrossing over his chest and abdomen. Evan saw a thick glob on the end of the dog's nose and, without thinking, bent over and licked it off. His hand never let go of the doggy cock, still pumping decreasing threads of seed onto his fur. Decker tasted strong and musky, almost like his odor had been concentrated in the liquid.
It wasn't but a few minutes before Decker finally stopped coming, his breath and heartbeat returning to normal. Because he couldn't expend his energy as sweat, he was panting heavily, but still managed to scoot up on the couch and speak to Evan.
He said something, but Evan couldn't make it out. He leaned down, his ear close to the dog's cum-covered face, and listened. The dog's voice was hoarse, broken and painfully plaintive.
"Take me, master...please." Evan was going to correct his dog for using the term again, but the rest of the sentence completely blocked it out. The semi-sixty-nine and the handjob were one thing, but this was different. This was serious. It was also something he had never considered. He supposed that since they were both males, and Evan wasn't attracted to males, that it wasn't a viable option.
But Decker had said that sometimes the dogs of the neighborhood helped each other out, sometimes they needed the "real thing." He knew what that was...and how hard it must be to do something like that. It takes a lot of trust to be taken, to give up control to another and give your body to that person, human or otherwise. Decker placed an immense amount of trust in Evan, that he could see. The dog knew he would never hurt him, or place him in jeopardy. It was, in essence, the ultimate admission of love. Evan couldn't deny that of his best friend.
"Are you sure?" he asked, looking deeply into the eyes of his adoring pet. He knew the answer before it was spoken.
"Yes. I need you, Evan. I belong to you...it's not my place to ask such things, but I want you to be happy."
Evan was flattered. "You don't have to do this, or anything else to make me happy. Just being with you makes me happy. I want to make you happy. If this will do it, than I'm more than willing. I'm grateful for you. Any chance I get to see you satisfied, I'll take it."
"Then take me, Evan."
"I will." But though he sounded confident, his throat felt as if it were stuffed with cotton. All of a sudden he was self-conscious again, the same high-school-locker-room feeling that his body didn't live up to the standard, and he would be teased again. He looked down at his belly, and barely saw the tips of his toes. He was frozen again in that world, where it just might be better to call in sick than to face other people.
A whine from Decker snapped his mind back to reality. The dog was gazing at him expectantly, waiting for Evan to claim him as his friend and mate in the most primitive and strongest fashion possible. To Decker, he was himself, weight or no weight. The canine had never minded his body before, when he had watched as Evan masturbated in his room for God knows how many times. And every time he had wanted to help out. It was truly an example of unconditional love and loyalty.
Evan rejoined Decker on the couch, straddling him and kissing his mouth lightly. He felt pinpricks of cold where the dog's cooling seed touched his bare flesh. It gave him an idea. Sitting on his heels, he positioned Decker so that he was on his back again, with his head propped up on the arm of the couch. The canine's ears were perked attentively.
A finger drew a line over Decker's forehead, where one of the first thick, white ropes of cum had landed. It collected a fair amount, and Evan drew it to his cock, still partially hard. He repeated smearing his pet's seed on his finger and hand, using the more than ample amount to lubricate his cock and the dog's tailhole. After gathering one last bead, he inserted a finger into the dog, who jumped a bit at the coolness but didn't say a word. He was ready.
The man backed up a bit and lay down over Decker's body, making sure the head of his member was placed right at the pink bud almost hidden by creamy fur. Decker's cock had resheathed itself, but he could feel the bulge of his balls on the underside of his stomach. In this position Decker's head was level with his upper chest, but he could still look into the dog's eyes from where he was. Without further questions or conversation, he put more of his weight on the dog and moved forward, pressing against his anus. He had never done this before, had never come close, so it was all new to him.
Decker looked at him, his eyes communicating nothing but encouragement. Evan matched his gaze and pushed harder. He felt resistance down below for a moment, then his cock moved forward and the head slid into the passage. Decker reached his forelegs up and gripped Evan's sides with his claws, making little indentations in the skin. Fighting to inhale and exhale smoothly, he decided to go ahead and push farther rather than wait. Once he had penetrated Decker's hole, the rest of his cock followed without incident.
A fine layer of perspiration was already breaking out on his body just from the intensity of the moment. He shifted his hips and made sure he could go no further. He was blown away by the fact of what he was doing. It was unbelievable, to have his cock in an animal. But not just that; it was the fact that this animal was his pet, someone he loved and cared about. Any other situation and he would have neither the courage nor the inclination to do this. Because it was Decker, it was special.
He looked down again, feeling like he was on top of some warm, squishy plush animal. Decker was just fine, his head bowed in concentration. Evan shifted his weight and pulled out a bit, teeth gritted at the raw pleasure of contact. Knowing only that thrusting was the key, he made a couple practice moves and quickly found out the best position for maximum penetration. He hilted himself again and rose up on his knees, taking Decker with him. He spread his legs and put his hands on the arm of the couch, hovering over the canine, and began to hump him again.
The fur on the underside of the dog's tail tickled all the way from his cock to behind his balls, further stimulating him. He was unsure that he was feeling what he was supposed to be feeling, though. Sweat started to drip from his armpits onto Decker, mixing with the cum that had already soaked through and dried in spots. He thought about how he usually jacked off, and it finally struck him: he used his hand to stimulate mostly the head of his cock, and almost never used the closed-fist stroking motion he had seen others do. He wasn't doing much for himself by thrusting fully in and out, although he could see Decker was enjoying it.
He had been going now for about five minutes, off and on, and it seemed to have lasted forever. Now he was ready to try something different. Backing up a bit on his knees, he withdrew his member back past the inner ring of Decker's hole and partway through the outer ring, so he could see half of the head spreading the flesh around it. He pushed in again, just until the head was inside, and pulled out. The feeling was so different, and much more pleasurable. It wasn't traditional, but it was his key to completing the consummation.
Moving his hands down to Decker's shoulders, he leaned forward and worked until he had the motions down, going by feel rather than sight. With a light jerk of his hips, he could quickly hump the dog's hole and get the most out of his cock against the walls of smooth, hot flesh surrounding it. Decker's eyes had opened again and he squirmed a bit, accommodating the shallow thrusts.
Evan was getting down to business. All emotion had drained from his face, and when Decker looked up at his master he saw a mask of intense carnal concentration. Now the only thing the human wanted was to climax, to make Decker his own, the final step in the bonding of the two friends. To anyone else he would have looked silly, kneeling over his dog and pumping shallowly into his backside, but for now he was an animal, in control, the superior. He had ceased to be a man, and became a beast.
Decker began to make low growling noises and merfing sounds, encouraging his owner. "Yes, Evan...come in your puppy...you're so close, fill me with your seed. Good boy..."
That was all he needed to send him crashing into a wall of ecstasy. He opened his eyes just in time to see Decker straining, and he felt a tortuous contraction around the head of his cock. He could only push farther in instead of pulling out, and his orgasm forced him to jam himself past the dog's inner ring. He felt like a wild animal, tying to his mate in the final stage of sex, and the cum pulsed in his crotch.
The German shepherd felt the first few shots of Evan's cum inside him, and he swiveled his head and bit Evan on the shoulder, hoping the pain would increase his load. It worked, for Evan got down off his elbows and clutched at Decker, his face buried in the soft fur of his upper neck and head. Decker's teeth never moved, only applied constant pressure.
Air rushed in and out of Evan's lungs, producing an odd, lusty, growl-like moan from the man. His hips rose and fell slowly as his orgasm fell into afterglow and the last of his seed marked his dog. The two lay for long minutes, content to let the silence say what they could not. Finally, Evan pulled away and began to pet the canine.
"Thank you, Decker. Thank you so much for giving this to me." His hand passed over the dog's head, neck and upper chest. Evan was on the verge of tears. "I-I don't know what else to say."
Decker accepted the attention with humility, and decided he didn't have a decent answer to give to his owner. Instead, he remarked, "I think we both need a bath."
Evan looked for a moment as if he didn't understand. Then, he laughed so hard his body jiggled and his cock swelled back up a little. "Yeah, I think we do. When was the last time I gave you a bath, anyway?"
"About three months ago, I think. Before you started getting set up online." Decker realized he had made a mistake, and cringed at the thought of having said something wrong.
"Don't worry about it, buddy. I'm over it, now that I have you to play with."
"Hey," said Decker. "I won't always want to play, you know." Both of them knew this was a bald-faced lie, and when they looked at each other they could both see it blatantly obviously. The sounds of guffawing and what could only be described as canine laughter drifted through the hallways of the house.
Evan pulled out of the dog, which wasn't much effort since he had almost completely softened. Decker rolled onto the floor and stretched his aching muscles in a standing position. Try as he might, a thin rope of white still dripped from his tailhole and landed on the hardwood floor.
"Come on," the man said. "We need to get cleaned up." Decker could tell by the expression on his face that his horny owner had something more than just a shower on his mind. He sighed a that's-men-for-you sigh, grinned, and loped to the bathroom. Just the smell of steam was enough to make him unsheathe.
* * *
"I don't have-ungh-time for this, Decker," Evan said.
"You always have time for this," the dog replied, and licked the underside of the pink cock in front of his face.
The human continued to stroke himself while sitting, fully clothed, on top of the canine. It was ten minutes to eight o'clock, and Evan was due for a date with Kenna at the top of the hour. At this rate, he would never make it. Evan stroked harder and faster, careful not to catch any pubic hairs in the zipper of his jeans.
Decker continued to lick Evan's balls and under his cock, trying to coax his reward a little faster. He knew time was of the essence. Evan grunted and bowed his head, a sure sign he was ready to go. The dog bent his head forward and took the first half of the shaft into his muzzle, taking over with his skilled mouth where his master had left off. Not a second later, Evan took hold of the fuzzy ears and humped his face a couple times. Cum, warm and fragrant, splashed into his mouth and down his throat. When Evan was done, he kissed the penis goodbye, then kissed its owner.
Evan savored the taste of himself on the dog's tongue, and pulled back. "I really have to go."
"I know," came the reply, and both stood in front of a full-length mirror. Evan had bought new clothes: an old-time surfing T-shirt from the seventies, faded and disheveled jeans, other items to fit his new outlook on life. Every day Decker thanked the Gods that he had revealed himself to Evan when he had; he couldn't envision what life would have been like without his one and only owner.
Evan looked himself over for the millionth time that day, made a minute adjustment to his hair, and decided he was okay. Kenna had not stood Evan up nearly a week ago: she had forgotten her cell phone at home, and when she finally got to the diner, Evan had already been well on his way to inebriation. She tried to call from the pay phone there, but only Decker had been home, and of course he couldn't answer the phone.
Eyeing his master from behind, he could see why Kenna wanted to go out with him after all. She didn't care about his body, which really wasn't the best part of him anyway. During the last week, he and Evan had bonded like never before in their lives. There had been lots of sex, sure; both of them were in the prime of their lives and had hormones to spare. It was the times in between, just laying on the soft sheets in the morning sunshine, talking...really talking. Sharing their hearts with each other, the most secret of the secret. Even a canine heart aches sometimes, to tell its tale and have another listen. Unwittingly, Decker had opened up so much more than he had bargained for when he decided to speak . They had been friends before; now they were mates. Now he felt like he was giving Evan away this night, after all they had been through in such a short time.
Evan headed for the front door, and both he and Decker jumped when the doorbell rang. He opened the door and revealed a stunning young woman. She wore a pink dress, clutched above her chest around a silver ring. It clung to her curves all the way past her knees. A small pink topaz perched on her neck on a transparent string, and appeared to float there. Raven-black hair, straight and long, fell effortlessly over her shoulders.
"I guess I got a little impatient, and decided to come and get you instead," she said. A lock of hair concealed an eye, and before she could correct it Evan pulled it back with his finger. Her dark brown eyes gleamed in the light from the living room. Decker watched all this, and felt the onset of jealousy. He knew it was silly, and the feeling segued into admiration and affection. He couldn't be more proud of his master.
"So, should we get going? I don't know about you, but I've been saving room all day for dinner. You look...you look very pretty," he stumbled. It was very cute.
"Your friend didn't do you justice, to be honest. Your online profile is nothing like the real you," said Kenna, and Evan blushed. "I'm hungry too." She took his hand and led him over the threshold, and he looked back at Decker. His face wore an expression of complacent helplessness. Decker only smiled and tilted his head, waving him off. The canine knew he would do fine.
The door closed. After waiting a few moments, Decker pulled himself up to the door and locked it with his teeth. He padded into the living room, already feeling worried about Evan. He knew there was nothing to worry about. Evan was too nice a guy to pass up, and if Rachel couldn't see that, then there was no help for humanity.
The German shepherd chuckled at his wild imagination. The television turned on with a hiss of static electricity. Decker settled down on the couch with the remote under his paw, and slowly drifted into a light doze, his mind racing and anxious to hear all about Evan's second chance.
FIN
7/22-8/14/04