Lucy and Me, part 1
Lucy and Me
by LT
I was thoroughly soaked by the time I finally walked through the door. Of course, had I not insisted on making a detour via an antique store, I might have made it back before the rain got unbearable. Oh well, antiques was my passion in life, and what I'd purchased was surely worth a little moisture.
Let me elaborate on myself a bit before I move on. I'm 23, a qualified database tech, living in a rather unfashionable part of West London while hunting for jobs. Now, in the strictest sense of the word, I didn't need to work, so my efforts in that direction were feeble at best. My parents were one of the old-money families, a step downwards from the House of Lords, or at least that's what my Dad always used to say.
So, there I was, a decently well-off bachelor without a care in the world and enough investment savvy to probably live my entire life in that same old West London house, a drafty old place with more memories and previous tenants than most city blocks put together. I'm making it all sound glamorous, though. It isn't, or rather, it wasn't, not until... well, you'll find out. In between searching for work, I tended to browse the numerous antique stores in the city, and that's where this little story really got started, with a large, very worn book.
I put down my precious purchase on the living room table before I went to shed my soaked garments. As I came back, I ran into Lucy (probably the laziest dog I've ever laid my eyes on), who seemed content to register my presence and then lope back to her designated rug. She hated water more than any creature I knew, and seemed content to wait before the rain stopped before wanting to go for a walk. Labbies were supposed to be energetic and all, but apparently Lucy was having none of that.
Sitting down, I finally got to see my acquisition in detail. It was a book of illustrations on various animals, oddly titled Beauty of the Beast and seemingly lacking in any mention of an author or illustrator. I'd snatched it immediately upon seeing it, and thanks to the absent-mindedness of the shopkeeper, who seemed adamant he'd never even seen the tome before, I was able to get it for a mere fraction what it must've been worth, it being at least a century old, likely even more.
Having made myself comfortable, I started idly flipping through the pages, congratulating myself on an excellent find. I already possessed a few old volumes on biology, it having been a boyhood passion of mine, but this one was beyond anything I'd seen before. The illustrations, though deceptively simple in technique, seemed to encapsulate every single aspect of their bestial subjects in a way no photograph ever could. In a short time, I was transfixed, turning the pages in a daze.
Until, suddenly...
At the sight of this latest picture, I gasped. I think my jaw dropped, too, and I probably looked pretty damn stupid for a long while, just gaping. It took me a good few minutes to actually come to terms with what I was seeing. There was no mistaking it, really.
Two dogs fucking. As with the previous pictures, it was seemingly perfect in detail, every hair painstakingly rendered, every muscle, every tendon in anatomical exactitude. But there was more, some kind of hypnotic pull. A good part of my mind was telling me to drop the damn book, but my muscles didn't seem to get into it. Instead, I unwittingly began to visualize the scene, in my mind's eye. The frantic, animalistic motion, the pungent, pheromone-laden smell, the sounds of their bestial union... Unbidden, a memory surfaced in my mind.
As a young lad, I had been interested in biology, and my dad, being an avid bird-watcher, was supportive of that hobby by always buying me books and suchlike. Of course, for a restless boy of eleven or twelve, that wasn't nearly enough, and I spent every moment of our summers in the country running after whatever creature caught my fancy at the time, be they butterflies, toads or squirrels.
That's how I got my first sexual experience. I was trailing after some dragonflies, I recall, when I stumbled onto two of the farm dogs caught in the act of mating. All thought of dragonflies forgotten, I stayed and watched. Now, of course I knew the mechanics already, but seeing it was something else. It felt taboo, and left a distinct, not-quite-unpleasant tingling sensation in my stomach. It wasn't until later that I realized that had been my first erection.
Over the years I found myself thinking about that encounter from time to time, and it never failed to excite me. Following that was always a sinking feeling of shame, but never enough to stop me entirely. I even managed to sneak off to get a repeat performance, and this time I knew exactly what the titillating engorgement of my loins meant. I was turned on, my cock harder than it had ever been.
During my late teens I did the sort of things any "normal" boy would, got girlfriends, engaged in hasty groping in dark movie theaters, and so on. All thoughts of my "youthful follies" were gone, dead, buried.
Until I turned a page and let them all flood back into my brain in a torrent of lust and confusion. My fingers finally let go of the book, which fell to the floor, still displaying the picture that had so captured my mind. It seemed my imagination was working overtime, filling my mind with disjointed, unnatural flickers of thought and desire. The cloying scent of a bitch in heat... The feeling of her fur against mine... The heat rising from her body as I wrap my paws around her harder, to drive my meat into her...
No, that didn't seem right... Did it?
It was suddenly very hot. I was feverish, delirious, wriggling out of my clothes without realizing it. It was only when I started undoing my belt that I saw and felt the almost painfully tight bulge of my crotch. The rest of my clothes were soon discarded, as well. Dimly feeling something wasn't right, I tried to close my eyes and get a grip on things, but it only made it worse, making me more aware of the throbbing of my loins. I could not, did not, want to resist it. I was horny as hell, and had to do something about it.
What actually happened next, I really cannot say. I know that from the moment my hand touched my cock, I became someone, no, something else. Something primal, something wild, something unashamedly erotic. I was stroking myself mercilessly, and every touch on my skin sent an electric current through my nerves. It was better than anything I'd ever felt. I knew I was going to have an orgasm soon, and I know it was going to be good. No, beyond good...
Everything seemed to fade away. The universe consisted of my fingers, my cock and the slowly increasing pressure inside me. I was hopelessly lost in sensation, a senseless animal enslaved to his primitive, uncompromising mating urge.
After what seemed like an eternity of escalating sensation and delirium, I came. There are no words to describe it, just an awesome rush of feeling spreading through my body. I came like a firehose, in great arcs of cum that went everywhere: all over my legs, on my chest, all over the couch, on the floor...
It was just too much...
*
I must've passed out, because my next memories are all disjointed, phantasmagoric images. There were smells and tastes I could not recognize, but the general feeling of it was hot, though in a way I could never explain. I guess that's what an acid trip must be like.
Waking up was strange also. It was a slow drift to consciousness, one sense at a time. Smell, it seems, was first. In the absence of anything else, it seemed unnaturally strong. Something seemed to occupy all of it, a cloying, powerful scent that was sending parts of my nervous system into overdrive. The smell of a female.
Slowly, I became more and more aware of myself. The first thing I started feeling was my cock, still hard as ever. Then the rest of my body, covered in sweat. I realized I was panting, breathing in as much of that incredible, erotic smell. Trying to slow the hell down and act normally, I opened my eyes.
There, right in front of me, was Lucy, looking at me straight in the eye without moving a muscle. I couldn't even begin to process what my senses were telling me. Then, she got up, took a few steps towards me and licked my face. My was too awestruck and tired to do anything to stop her, and she just kept going, licking up all the sweat dribbling down my forehead. It felt weird, like tiny electric shocks passing from her into me. Weakly, I tried to shoo her away, but she wouldn't budge, still running her big, coarse doggy tongue all over my face and neck.
I was still hard, I realized. And that smell... It was better than any pussy I'd ever licked before. What the hell was going on? And then it hit me.
That smell was Lucy. I was being turned on by my own dog. And based on the throbbing heat in my loins, I was loving it.
--To be continued--