After The Shower
This was based on a true story. My own true story. I'm not kidding.
DISCLAIMER: If you are under the legal age and you somehow made it here, it's TOO LATE. You can't turn back now. Read on. You deserve the punishment of having your innocence shattered.
It was a boring day in the small apartment. I was staying at my cousin's and he was gone to some party. He wouldn't be back until at least 12. His mom was in the kitchen, cooking some meal I probably wouldn't like. I was in his room, watching a movie on his Xbox 360. I had a can of root beer in one hand, and humoring Jeff's runt puppy with the other. Some kind of mix between a Chihuahua and a pit bull, I think. Some mix that was probably really awkward when it happened, but I bet it was funny to watch. He played rough all the time; the dumb bastard was raising him to be "tough". Tough as in eventually becoming a vicious dog who kills a little girl and gets shot. Of course, I was hoping that that wouldn't happen. Hope for the best, plan for the worst. I was just absentmindedly waving my right hand around, while he was having the time of his life. As soon as my middle finger got in range, he jumped up and nibbled on it playfully. And hard. I winced a little at the pain, but considering how ridiculously small he was, it was nothing of any concern. That made me think about when Jeff and I talked about this an hour ago...
We were in the same room, playing the same level of the same game and the same single player mode with the same weapons, same enemies, and same variants. I guess we just liked it that way. Anyway, Roscoe (re-establishing the tough forte from earlier, he named this puppy after--you guessed it--one of the Dobermans on Disney's Oliver and Company) started nosing at my fingers, and I lifted my hand up, which he interpreted as a game. I said, "Sure, why not."
"Careful", Jeff said in a condescending tone. "He bites, and I don't wanna hear any complainin' from you when it happens."
"Dude. Seriously. I could put this dog in the hospital with one hand. His teeth are smaller than mine. Unless he manages to take off a part or give me Aids, I don't think I have anything to worry about."
"Alright, don't say I didn't warn you."
At that moment, his cell phone rang.
"Yeah.
Cool.
Okay, I'll be out front."
He jumped up, put on a shirt, some Axe, and said, "I'm goin' to a party." This means I'm better than you. This means people want my presence. This means I have more friends than you. This means I'm God, and you're not. I was just happy he didn't go with the long version. He walked out, let my aunt know and swung the door behind him. 14 seconds later, I heard tires screech loudly, and Roscoe was running toward the door of the room I was in, barking and jumping like mad. I replied flatly, "Yes, yes, we all know you love big noises and shiny things. We're so proud."
Back in the present, I had barely moved a foot. Still watching the movie, still messing around with Roscoe. I leaned back and put my hands behind my head. That was actually pretty relaxing...until I got a chance to smell the funk. "What was that?"
I turned and sniffed my armpits and coughed in shock. MAN that was ripe. I sniffed again. "It smells orange! Nasty." Then I thought about it, and I realized that I must be going crazy if I could smell colors. I stood up with a groan, and walked into the bathroom, connected to Jeff's room. There was a little baby barricade for Roscoe so he wouldn't run around, but I didn't really care. He was out of the main part of the house, and as long as Jeff's room door didn't open, it would stay that way. With curiosity, he followed me quietly into the restroom. I dropped my clothes to the floor, locked all the doors (my aunt was raised in a secret city where knocking on the door was an offense punishable by a slow, tortuous death. To this day, I've never been able to find that city) turned on the water, waited a few seconds, and stepped in. I did a quick soap scan over my body, then immediately focused on the armpits. I lathered my washcloth until there was more white (soap) than dark green (the towel color). Then I scrubbed vigorously like there was a horrible filth in there. And in a way, there was.
Kinda.
Anyway, I noticed Roscoe with his front paws and nose peeking through the corner of the shower. The tub's wall was too tall for him to jump over, but just small enough for him to look at me. Poor dumb bastard. Most dogs would run like a bat out of hell at even the sound of water. This kid here was sniffing like his nose was broken, and desperately trying to lick up any drops that he hoped would fall his way. I didn't get it. He had a full bowl of fresh cold water not 15 feet away, yet he's doing his best to eat this up! I cupped my hand until I had enough, and then threw a little water his way. "Git outta heeah!" I said in my dumbest impersonation ever. He jumped back reflexively, but reappeared less than a second later, lapping up the drops on the corner. Done with my washcloth, I decided to scare the shit out of him. I soaked it up with water then hurled it at the wall adjacent from him. He jumped back and ran. I chuckled and reached to turn off the water. He was back already! "Wow, it took you 1.2 seconds this time!" I said, not really counting. I shut the water off and stepped out. Roscoe immediately stood up and started licking my wet legs like they were covered with honey or caramel or something. And of course, Dog Tongue+Legs+Hair+Water=Extremely Ticklish. I started squirming and giggling a little, saying "Aah! Roscoe, stop!" in between little laughs. But that plea fell on deaf ears as he stood on his hind legs for the longest I've ever remembered and kept trying to dry me off the hard way, like trying to clean the Sistine Chapel with a toothbrush. I quickly grabbed my towel and dried off my right leg. He immediately switched to my left. I jumped away from him, now actually scared of a dog that was no more than 5 inches tall. I shooed him off and dried the left leg as quickly as possible. He then sniffed both legs. With that same heavy, rapid sniff of hunger. Once he realized they were completely dry, he looked up, and you can guess.
He started jumping, and wagging his tail a little. I was horrified. "Oh, no! Don't you even THINK about it!" I said as I pointed at him. I guess remembering my finger from earlier, he stopped jumping and sat quietly. Then, hypocritically, I started thinking about it. My aunt was in the house, but she'd probably be all wrapped up in her stupid Lifetime Movies. And in the kitchen, with all the loud cooking going on, she probably wouldn't be able to hear me...
I dried off my chest and face, then walked to the toilet next to the door. I put the lid down, and sat on the seat. Instantly, Roscoe hopped his front legs on the bowl and started licking my (still wet) cock. "Oh, no" I blathered listlessly and with a sarcastic tone. "No, bad dog, Roscoe. You're horrible. That's disgusting, get off. You're going to doggy hell, and everyone will hate you. Pervert...you're si--OOH!"
I felt a shudder build up as Roscoe kept licking up and down the head of my dick, which had frozen hard in the middle of my fake protest. "Oh, you're a good dog, Roscoe..."
I cooed as I rubbed my hand over his tiny head, paying attention only to drying off what was, in his eyes, just some long weird looking thing that bobbed when it was licked. Then I looked down at his eyes, and I had to admit, I was shocked. They were almost black, like he had changed into a totally different dog. He was just intent on getting this job done! I thought of an idea and I turned my body to the left. Without even dropping down his legs, he followed. I pulled a swift right turn and he still never left his place! I felt a moan start to rise in my body, but I tightly closed my mouth (and eyes) and let out an "MMMMMMMMMMmmmmmm..." On cue, he sank down to the front of my balls and licked those with a tender touch. I jerked, and some pre-come washed out of my penis. And to him, that meant another wet spot of skin. Licking his way back to the top like an elevator, he continued, that tiny little tongue creating the biggest waves of teasing pleasure. I was squirming now, still making those "Mmm's" and silent gasps. My head was rolling around on my neck, ready to fall off if I didn't stop. My legs were moving around frequently. It was like I couldn't stand it...but I couldn't get enough of it. And then I felt a sharp jab of pain hit me at my waist. In the spilt second reaction, I yelped, grabbed another towel off the rack behind me, and smashed it in my face while I scream-moaned into it.
"John, are you alright?'
I calmed down as much as I could, Roscoe still licking away.
"I'm fine, Aunt Carol."
"I'm going to the store."
"Okay--AAAH!!--mmmm!!"
I felt it again and the towel went right back over my face. What was going on?! I looked down and there he was. Using his TEETH. Nipping whatever slack of the foreskin he could find on the front and sides. This time, he knew what he was doing.
It.
Felt.
INCREDIBLE.
My dick was almost red, seeping pre-come and throbbing like a headache. I could see a vein!
"I'm gone."
She grabbed the keys and headed for the door. Back to licking now, Roscoe was trying to find more areas to lick and probably damning that little spout that kept making his drying job impossible. I pulled the folded towel out of my mouth, unfurled it, and wrung it out so I could fit it comfortably in my mouth while I waited for her to leave. He nibbled again. I groaned loudly into the towel while she left. I made sure that I heard her car driving away before I ripped the towel from my mouth and compressed 5 minutes of sounds Roscoe deserved into one scream. Thank whichever God was watching at the time that Carol had to leave the place. It pierced my ears, and another small flood of pre came out. ANYBODY inside the apartments upstairs would've thought I was getting cut open with a chainsaw. My scream was so loud and forceful, Roscoe stopped and pulled his head back, from all the wind generating from my mouth. But before the scream was even over, he was back to his sinful business. He scrambled all over my member as he progressed back to the head. He lapped around the crown, still sniffing wildly to my surprise. At that point, I needed some help. I was going crazy without thrusting into this tiny dog's mouth. But I couldn't do it; He's terribly small as is, and even if he wasn't, he couldn't take a dick in his mouth. There was no way he'd be able to learn how to suck like a human. I thought of an idea, and I thrust...backwards. I launched myself backwards--as if it were a flinch--and slowly brought myself back to him. He decided to go back down to my balls and try to clean up all that black, thin, ropy stuff there. That's how it stayed for a few more seconds--1,2,3,4, push. 1,2,3,4, push. Annoying for him, a roller coaster ride for me. But I was already getting close to an orgasm. One HELL of an orgasm, by this time. I was moaning, whining, sweating, and smelling nasty as he snaked his little flat pink slab around and under my testicles. Then I grabbed the corners of the walls with my hands (to control myself) and thrust...forward. But I kept my bearings and moved just enough for him to get the message, and come back up to the top for the last leg of the service he was performing. I was breathless as he caught all of the lines of pre-come that had formed and rolled down my aching cock and traveled back to the head one last time. I tightened my grip on the corners of the wall, shut my eyes and panted, "Keep going, you're almost through!" I scooted back a little, to give him room to jump up onto the little seat with me, and he got up, bit the front one more time and moved his tongue to the slit at the top. He was ready.
The bite was enough to see me through, but I knew he aimed at the top because he wasn't going to miss this event. My eyes shot open and I cried out for the last time as my orgasm finally ran me over, like a truck. The room started to blend and melt as I felt light-headed. The first two shots was so powerful, it hit me in my chin and got caught in my little goatee! Roscoe, my cousin's dog, and powerful tease, claimed the rest. Each jet caught him in surprise, like the previous never happened. I couldn't help but laugh lightly as he licked, yanked his head back as another shot hit him, darted forward, licked again, yanked, darted, licked, yanked, flinched, and repeated the process. When I was drained, he completed the last two steps--darting forward and licking--and dried off all the semen he didn't catch on his face or in his mouth. He put his two front paws on my chest (which I didn't even feel from the afterglow, despite sharp toenails.) and tried to get to the rest on my chin, but I put Roscoe down and pointed to the spill he missed on the inside of my hip. He dropped down, hungrily took all that in, and turned right back to my shrinking dick and licked mercilessly. As most would know from experience, the head of a penis becomes extremely sensitive after an orgasm. And after one like mine, I wouldn't be able to come for a long while. Immediately awakened by this pleasure-turned-pain, I jumped up and snatched him by the nape of his scrawny neck. I looked at his face. He was still shooting his tongue out, trying desperately to get back to my cock! Here Roscoe was, almost 5 feet away from the object of his desires and he was still trying to get at it! As soon as he realized that it was futile, he started squirming and growling ever so slightly, trying to tell me to let the hell go so he could continue. Underneath his spastic figure, his tiny balls were hanging by a thread. His own member wasn't sticking out, as he was too young, but goddamnit he was ready. And he was almost there. I thought of something. I moved him to the outside of the bathroom and closed the door. I dried off the rest of my body (not from the water, but from something else) and put on a pair of boxers. With a fly. As I sat back down and opened the door, he immediately ran in, and jumped to the crotch of my shorts, licking the fabric furiously. Like he had been trained. I put my hand in front of the fly to block him, and he started moving my hand with his nose, and pushing them apart with his tongue! Licking at the cracks, to find his need! I picked him up and I whispered, "Holy shit! You're a fucking beast!"
I set him down and pulled on a pair of long jeans (I needed them now...) just as the door opened and Aunt Carol walked back in with some groceries.
"Hey." I threw off casually like I hadn't had my first...and best...blowjob of my life...from a dog.
"What's that smell?", she blurted, skipping the manners and formalities.
"I stunk, so I had to take a shower."
She just looked at me funny, then turned and went back to the kitchen. "Food's ready."
I walked back to Jeff's room and said "That's okay, I'm not eating."
I could almost feel the angry look she was giving the back of my head. I walked back into the room, where the menu for the DVD I was watching had been looping over and over. Cursing myself for leaving it that way, I turned everything off, hit the lights and took off everything except my boxers. Roscoe was already leaping as high as he could, ready for another go, but I told him "Some other time." I laid down on my sleeping bag--on my stomach, so the little smart-ass wouldn't try anything while I slept--and mumbled off to sleep, mind ablaze with the events that transpired after a single shower...
Sorry for making the story so long. Word07 says 2,969 words. I think that's just crazy. Well, I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed BEING THERE.
Peace.