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Theo S. Bernard

He was in a forest. It was a place of filtered sunlight, evergreen trees, soft moss. The details were vague but it felt peaceful and secluded. The stallion, on the other hand, was very real – huge and chestnut brown. He stood beside the beast, so close that the smell and the warmth of it filled his senses. Then his hands were wrapped around the stallion's massive cock. It felt magnificent, smooth and hard beneath velvety skin. He could feel every curve, every quiver of movement. But the horse vision faded, leaving the memory of that huge flesh in his hands, extraordinarily vivid even though he had almost no experience of horses, had only patted them on a couple of occasions. Now he floated in the hazy sunlit trees, alone. A need grew at the edge of his consciousness, like an itch, unrecognised until a rush of pleasure and release washed through the forest, over the trees, over him. He turned in his sleep, and the dream faded, an artefact produced by the development of youthful glands.

---

The rock fitted neatly into Zac's hand. Too neatly; he meant to hurl it into the creek, but it caught for an instant on his fingers and his throw went wide. It arched over Mrs Susan Taylor's hedge, and he winced at the sound of breaking glass.

Zac was angry. He was angry with the loudmouths who made school a nightmare, angry because he was terrible at sport, and angry because schoolwork was so difficult. But as the unseen glass crashed to the ground beyond the hedge, his anger turned to fear. Being a disappointment was one thing, but trashing the neighbour's property was a whole new level. He imagined his father yelling and his mother's tight faced disapproval.

Zac was about average height for a thirteen-year-old boy, but scrawny. He was not very athletic, only average in his academic ability, and shy. He lived in a nondescript 1970s brick house on the outskirts of a small town.

He glanced up and down the road, but it was deserted. He needed to pass Mrs Taylor's gate to get home. The hedge hid the house from his view. Perhaps she's out, he thought. No such luck, though – as he neared the gate, Mrs Taylor stepped out from behind the hedge. Tall, with flecks of grey in her shoulder-length hair, she was dressed in dark slacks and a faded salmon blouse. A sharp pair of secateurs dangled from a gloved hand. It was no use running – she had seen him.

“Zachary!" Was there surprise and disappointment as well as anger in her voice? “What do you have to say for yourself?"

Somewhere behind the house, a dog barked. It was a very deep “Woo woo woo" sound in the moment of silence. Zac knew that Mrs Taylor bred dogs. He'd said a polite “Hello" to her occasionally, but other than that, he didn't know much about her.

“I... Uh..."

“I just saw a rock go through my garage window, and it didn't throw itself!"

“It was an accident." The words sounded lame even as he said them, and she wasn't buying it.

“Don't give me that nonsense! What will your father say?"

Zac's heart sank as he imagined the telling off he would get. His father mowed Mrs Taylor's lawns, and Zac had seen them chatting. It was likely that she would carry out her threat.

Mrs Taylor must have noticed the look on his face.

“On the other hand, perhaps you can do some work for me, in payment for the window, and we'll agree not to tell your father about it."

That sounded like manual labour, and Zac wasn't keen on the idea. But it was better than the alternative, so he nodded. “OK."

“Good", said Mrs Taylor. “I think five hours would cover it. Can you come over tomorrow after school?"

Five hours would mean every afternoon for the entire week – seriously cutting into his Minecraft time. But it was better than he deserved, so he agreed. Mrs Taylor waved a cheerful goodbye as he turned and trudged on towards his house.

---

School was as awful as usual the next day, and instead of unwinding in front of the computer, he had forced labour to look forward to. After school, he hurried home, changed into some work clothes, then knocked nervously at Mrs Taylor's door.

The sound of his knock triggered a clamour of barking from the back of the house, and he heard Mrs Taylor say “Quiet!". It sounded like she said that a lot, but her command carried authority. The barking died away into a whine. Mrs Taylor opened the door, and he could see that she approved of his work clothes and his punctuality.

She took Zac to a garden at the side of the house. Here a bed of rocks had been artfully decorated with conifers and succulents. However, weeds and grass had grown over the rocks, intertwining with the shrubs, and the whole thing just looked like a neglected jungle.

Zac's father was a landscaper, and Zac had spent a fair bit of time helping out. It wasn't his idea of a fun way to spend the school holidays, but it had earned him enough money to buy a PC for gaming. He'd also gained some degree of skill, and even a bit of professional pride, so he was soon busy trimming and pulling weeds.

After forty-five minutes, he was grubby and sweaty, but he'd tamed the chaos and restored the garden to all its unfashionable splendour. He raked up the detritus, and rested for a bit. He could hear Mrs Taylor moving about behind the house, along with occasional excited whines. The unseen dog was obviously wondering who was in its garden. A sturdy wooden fence blocked his view of the rear part of the section.

He was wondering what to work on next when he heard the thud and scrabble of large paws. A gate at the corner of the house crashed open, and a shaggy creature came flying through at high speed.

Zac liked dogs. His uncle had a friendly golden retriever who loved to play fetch. Zac thought the retriever was a big dog, but this animal was massive, almost as tall as Zac's waist and heavier than the boy by quite a margin. He repressed a powerful instinct to run, and stayed perfectly still.

The huge dog bounded across the lawn, then slid to a halt right in front of him. Zac relaxed when he saw that its tail was wagging as it nosed forward to sniff at him. He recognised a look of excited curiosity rather than menace.

“Gem! Come!" Mrs Taylor sounded breathless as she hurried into view around the corner of the house. She slowed to a walk when she saw that the situation was under control. “Sorry. It seems that the gate wasn't latched properly!"

Zac hardly heard her; he was transfixed by the huge dog in front of him. Her head was massive and square, with a blunt nose and wide jaws from which a giant pink tongue languished. Big dark eyes regarded him from below a wrinkled brow framed by drooping ears. Her soft coat was mostly white, with a blob of tan across her shoulders and back, and a dark mask over her eyes and the top of her head. Chunky legs ended in appropriately large paws, and her long tail made an elegant sweep behind her. Zac held out his hand for her to sniff.

Mrs Taylor grinned. “She likes you! That's a relief; I thought I might have to bury the remains in the back yard."

Zac stroked the side of her head, and her tail swished the grass. Mrs Taylor regarded his handiwork. “You've done a great job on the garden. I'll have to think of something else." She turned back, but Zac had dropped to one knee, so that his head was on the same level as the dog's face. He felt drawn to her calm solidarity as he his hands over her shoulders.

“You like dogs, by the looks of it!".

“Yes, Mrs Taylor. What breed is she?"

“She's a Saint Bernard, like all my dogs." The older lady smiled, always happy to talk about her hobby.

“Oh yeah!" Zac remembered paintings of the big dogs in snowy landscapes. “They carry a barrel of wine around their necks and rescue people from the snow!".

“It was brandy, and that's mostly a fanciful legend. But it's a nice idea!".

Zac smiled. Patting this dog was very relaxing.

“Well, if you really like dogs, there's another job you can do... but you won't like it."

“Oh?" Zac wondered what could be worse than digging weeds.

“Yes... I've got so many things to do, and the dog run needs cleaning. And by cleaning, I mean... picking up the shit."

The rude language sounded so strange from Mrs Taylor that Zac nearly giggled out loud. But perhaps she was more earthy than she seemed, despite her neatly trimmed hair and old-fashioned blouse.

“Come on, then. And you too, Gem". She beckoned the boy and the dog towards the rear of the house. The Saint Bernard kept sniffing Zac as they walked, and her interest excited him.

The rear of the house opened onto a decent size lawn, surrounded by a high fence. A couple of super-size dog kennels squatted near the back fence. The remains of dismembered chew toys littered the lawn. A couple of well-chewed bones were strewn about near the kennels.

Mrs Taylor closed the gate, double checking that it was properly latched. Gem pranced about like a puppy, showing off her domain. Then she flopped down next to one of the dessicated bones and started to chew it.

Mrs Taylor nodded proudly towards her dog. “This is 'Taylors Secret Gemstone', or Gem for short. She's just won Best in Breed at the national show, and we're very proud of her!".

Zac tried to look suitably impressed. He had no idea how dog shows worked or what it took to be best Saint Bernard, but it did sound impressive.

“I have another dog," Mrs Taylor continued. “His name is Arny. And no, he's not named after Arnold Schwarzenegger. His full name is 'Saint Arnold', who was the patron saint of beer."

“I didn't know there were Saints for drinks!" replied Zac, feeling quite educated by the exchange.

“Arny is staying with friends at the moment, because Gem is coming into season, and it's too difficult to have male dogs around. I can't breed those two because he is her half-brother."

That was a lot of information to take in, and Zac didn't understand all of it. Obviously he knew the basics of reproduction, but not the details of dog breeding. He'd have to look it up later.

Mrs Taylor handed him a spade and a bucket. “Here you go. Empty it into the compost bin. And when you finish that, can I get you to wash out the water bowl and refill it?"

The “bowl" was a big plastic bucket by the back door. Big dogs, big bowls, thought Zac.

“Compost?" he asked, vaguely disgusted.

“Oh yes! It grows great tomatoes!"

Zac suddenly remembered all the tomatoes his dad had come home with during the summer.

Shovelling up the shit was pretty gross at first, but he soon got used to it, and perfected his technique – it required just the right flick of the spade. He would have refused to do such a job before he met Gem. But the giant dog kept drawing his attention, and the work was an excuse to spend some more time around her. After chewing the bone for a while, she got up and sauntered over to Zac, and he had another opportunity to pat her. She liked it when he scratched her back.

Reluctantly he stopped patting and made one last search of the lawn to make sure he hadn't missed anything. He was refilling the water bucket when Mrs Taylor came out of the house. She surveyed the lawn.

“Well done! I thought that job would scare you away! But I see that you really do like dogs."

“I don't mind them, I guess," he replied, because he didn't want to sound too enthusiastic.

“Well, that's just about enough for today, but there's something you could do before you leave, if you would like to finish with something less yucky."

She took a dog brush from a shelf. It had coarse plastic bristles and finger loops on the back.

“Come on, Gem!" she called, and the Saint Bernard bounded over. She sat down in front of the lady, staring intently at the brush.

“Saint Bernards need plenty of brushing," Mrs Taylor explained. “Fortunately, she really enjoys it."

She demonstrated with a few quick strokes, and then handed the brush to Zac. He started slowly and carefully, worried that he might startle her or that it might hurt. But Gem closed her eyes and leaned into his strokes as he ran the brush down her back, so he soon felt more confident. The dog's coat was thick and soft, and the air filled with a fog of fine hair as he ran the brush over her shoulders, across her muscular neck, and down her flanks.

Mrs Taylor watched with a smile. “Well. I think you two will get along just fine!".

Zac really wished that he had his own dog – preferably a big fluffy one. It would be great, but he knew that his parents wouldn't agree. His uncle allowed his dog in the house, producing disapproving looks from his mother. She always pulled away from the retriever's friendly advances, and brushed dog hair off his couch with a look of disdain.

---

After dinner that evening, it was time for some homework. He opened a new “Private" window in his internet browser, then searched for “dogs", “bitches", “breeding" and “season" in various combinations. So bitches usually came into season for a couple of weeks every six months, and it was the only time they were fertile and could get pregnant. One article described how male dogs became obsessed by the bitch's pheromones, making them extremely sexually aroused, and how they would go to great lengths to get to the bitch. No wonder Arny had been sent away.

There were veterinary texts with anatomical diagrams. There were photos of canine sexual parts. There were photos of dogs in the process of mating. Most of the photos showed small, every-day dogs, but there were some pictures of large breeds. These pictures excited him. The anatomical diagrams were weirdly erotic, too – they were clinical, but they filled in the hidden details in his imagination.

A search result took him to YouTube, and a video of Rottweiler dogs mating. They bounded around a yard, tails high in their excitement. He paused the video and looked more closely. The male was chasing the female. She spun around, reared up, and engaged the male in a happy tussle. She turned again, and this time she stopped with her tail to one side. The male sniffed, then licked at her prominent vulva. She pulled her tail further up and to one side, eager for his attention.

The boy felt a strong bulge in his pants. The male dog mounted the bitch, gripping her waist with his paws and thrusting forward. The camera zoomed in. Zac could see the dog's sheath and his balls, hanging proudly between his back legs. The tip of a cock showed, pink against dark fur as he sought the bitch's entrance.

Zac had watched porn with one of his school friends – generic human porn. A muscular man had performed various acts with a tanned women. His cock was improbably large; She had frizzy blonde hair, big breasts and too much lipstick. His friend had said “hey, check this out!" and giggled a lot. It had been exciting at the time, but also kind of gross. He knew his dad had signed up for an internet filtering service, so he'd never bothered to try and find any porn for himself. The video of the mating dogs seemed so much more... “natural" was the only word he could think of. Real. Not staged. It was making Zac very excited. Then the male dog found the bitch's entrance, and his hips pressed forward as he thrust deeply into her. Zac imagined the dog's cock slipping into the female. What would it feel like? He didn't know; probably warm and soft, though.

A lot of energetic thrusting followed. Then the male slowed down, and his tail flagged up and down as he ejaculated. Zac had already read about canine anatomy, so he knew that the dog was now locked inside the bitch by a bulge at the base of his cock. There was a bit of scrabbling as he climbed off the bitch and turned around, but soon they were standing butt-to-butt. Both dogs had a satisfied look on their faces. The camera zoomed in again, to show the rhythmic clenching of the muscles around the dog's butt as he continued to pulse his semen into the bitch.

Zac's own cock was rock hard now, uncomfortably constrained by his pants. The dogs in the video were standing calmly, panting from their efforts. He was about click “back" when the video cut. Now the male dog was leaning forward, pulling against the bitch, who was pulling the other way. Zac could see the bulge in the dog's cock – his “knot" – beneath the stretched fur around the bitch's vulva. Suddenly, the knot slipped out, followed by the rest of his cock, and a rush of watery semen. Both dogs immediately started licking their respective parts.

Zac blinked in amazement, then rewound the video and set it to quarter speed. He couldn't believe the size of the dog's knot, or the thickness and length of the shaft beyond it. He tried to imagine how far it penetrated inside the bitch. It was amazing. The Rottweilers were much smaller than the Saint Bernard he had met earlier in the day, yet it looked like the Rottie boy's cock would be quite a bit longer and thicker than Zac's own penis, especially once you included the knot. The knot itself looked hard and pink, and it flared out in a sensual bulge at the base of the dog's cock. Considering how large this dog's member was, a Saint Bernard cock must be... huge!

“Zac! Bed time!"

His parents were watching dull TV in the lounge, and his mother's voice drew him painfully back to reality. He had a moment of terror as he imagined what she would say if she saw all the things he'd been looking at. It wasn't pornographic in the usual sense, but it could lead to some awkward questions. He snapped the browser closed, and then shut down the PC. By the time he'd put on pyjamas, the excitement had faded. The garden work had left him pretty tired, so for once he was happy to climb into bed.

Lying safe and warm in the dark, his thoughts went back to the mating dogs. Suddenly, his cock was hard again. He slipped down his pyjama pants, savouring the illicit pleasure of naked skin against the sheets. His hand moved down, over the smooth skin of his belly, and then up over his hard member.

Zac remembered the first time he'd discovered how to play with his cock. He'd learned about the mechanics of sexual intercourse from a little book his mother gave him, at age eleven and a half. It wasn't very erotic. The whole idea sounded weird at first, but then he'd started thinking more about it. He had no particular interest in girls, apart from some curiosity about what they looked like “down there". He still wasn't very interested, although he knew he should be. But he did wonder what it would feel like. According to the book, the penis was placed in the vagina... One night, he wrapped his hand around his cock, trying to imagine how it would really feel. He'd had erections plenty of times before that – often at embarrassing moments – but now it felt pretty good, so he moved his hand a bit and squeezed tighter. That felt good too – exciting, even – so he kept going. The excitement kept building, and a burning need built up in his groin, and then suddenly a wave of pleasure and release burst over him as he experienced his first orgasm. Wow, he thought. So that's what it's about. He didn't cum then, or for a year or so after that, but he did get quite good at stimulating himself in just the right way. It was quite a surprise – and inconvenient – when one day his orgasm also produced a dribble of sticky liquid. Since then, he'd had to find ways to clean up, and hope his mother didn't notice.

The excitement of the video had left his foreskin slick with precum, and he imagined the dog's cock slipping inside the bitch as he rubbed the slick liquid around the tip of his cock with a finger. The thought of that big dog cock squirting semen deep into the bitch as the male held her and mated her... He grasped his penis, his hand massaging up and down in time with the thrusts of the dog in his imagination. He was the dog, breeding the in-season female, and he was also the female, desperate for the seed of a male inside her.

Then he was squirting his own cum across his chest in a spectacular fountain, shuddering from the most intense orgasm he'd ever had. It took three tissues to clean up the mess.

---

Zac still had his debt to pay, so he was back at Mrs Taylor's house the next day after school. But this time, he was actually excited. His mind kept straying back to the mating Rottweilers, which proved to be dangerous while he was at school. He had to keep his thoughts under tight control. But the boring classes and snide remarks from other kids were less annoying than usual. Now he had a secret knowledge, something special which was his alone. He'd met a female canine, and she was in season, and she liked him. The biological functions fascinated him, and the specific shapes and forms of canine genitalia required further exploration.

Mrs Taylor put him to work on another neglected corner of her garden. There was less barking from the back of the house this time, but Zac heard occasional whines. Perhaps the Saint knew it was him. After spending an hour weeding and trimming the shrubbery, he volunteered to brush Gem, and even clean up the dog run, just for the opportunity to see her again. The older lady grinned. She had a genuine and deep enthusiasm for the giant dogs, and she seemed happy to show them off.

“Sure! Come on through."

All kinds of unrealistic fantasies had flitted, half-formed, through the boy's mind. But when he actually saw the big dog, he felt shy. Gem showed no such reticence; she bounded up to him and thrust her nose into his midriff, spreading drool across the front of his pants.

“Gem!" Mrs Taylor chided, but she was laughing.

Zac patted Gem's head. His fantasies seemed foolish now that he was confronted with a real, live dog – so much more complex than anything in his imagination. But later, as he ran the brush through her fur, he felt excitement stirring again. Her powerful neck and shoulders, the deep chest narrowing to her waist, the muscular rear legs, the curved tail which swished the air – all these lines seemed so correct. They enticed him.

Mrs Taylor had disappeared into the house, and he could hear her putting dishes away. He risked a glance under the bitch's tail. Her vulva stood out more prominently than the photos he'd seen; Soft and puffy, dark in colour against her white fur. It looked like a fortune cookie, with a Y-shaped entrance. It sat a short distance below her large ass, right under her tail. It was all a bit gross, but also very exciting at the same time. It was earthy; biological; real. All her parts were displayed proudly beneath that wagging tail, with no hint of shame. Zac was still curious; he wanted to touch the soft entrance, run his fingers over it. But would that be rude? What if she didn't like it? Besides, it was too dangerous to try anything like that with Mrs Taylor not far away.

Zac took plenty of time over the brushing, making the most of the opportunity to ogle the Saint bitch. A thick wad of soft hair covered the brush by the time he finished, and a halo of shed fur surrounded them on the path. Reluctantly, he had to admit that he was finished.

Mrs Taylor appraised his handiwork.

“Wow, you've been very thorough!" She nodded approval. “I'll have to get you over to help with the grooming next time we have a show to go to!".

---

The rest of the week followed the same routine; he did various odd-jobs around the garden, then helped out with Gem. He'd dreaded the idea of having to work every afternoon for the entire week, but now he feared the end of the work detail and the end of his visits with Gem. He'd noticed her whining from behind the fence whenever his visit time drew near, and she greeted him with great enthusiasm each day. She was obviously pleased to see him, and that made him feel special. He'd been reading a bit about pedigree breeds and breed standards so that he could talk to Mrs Taylor without sounding ignorant. Gem had a number of ribbons and certificates – Mrs Taylor had been very proud to show them to Zac – including “Best in Breed". She had a pedigree which showed all her ancestors – many of them also champions – going back for generations. OK, so it was all a bit snobby. But there was also a lot of dedication and hard work involved by Mrs Taylor and other dog breeders, which Zac had to respect. All of that did make Gem something special, and he felt proud that he was able to help groom the giant dog.

On Friday afternoon, the last day of his indentured work, he started to give serious thought to what he would do. He decided he would volunteer to help out more – not every day, but at least once a week. Perhaps, he could take Gem out for walks or find some other way to spend time with her. He also wanted to meet Mrs Taylor's male Saint Bernard, when he eventually returned home.

He'd just finished the regular task of cleaning up the lawn – which he always did first, to get it out of the way – when Mrs Taylor emerged from the back door, car keys and handbag in hand.

“Zachary!" she said. “I have to rush into town to pick up some things up from the vet before they close. Are you OK to finish tidying up and give Gem her brushing, by yourself?"

Zac couldn't believe his luck. He tried to sound casual as he answered.

“Sure, no problem, Mrs Taylor!"

“Good! Just show yourself out the front door when you are done; it will lock itself when you close it. Oh and make sure the gate is shut properly too!"

The Saint's fur seemed to glow in the warm afternoon sun. Zac gripped the brush, ran it over her shoulders, along her back, down her muscular back legs. A door slammed; a car engine started. Zac could picture Mrs Taylor behind the wheel. The car idled down the driveway; paused. Then its engine revved as it left the drive, and the sound faded away down the road towards town. The back lawn was sunny and private, surrounded by its tall wooden fence. A lawnmower burbled somewhere in the distance.

Zac continued to run the brush through Gem's luxurious coat, but inside his heart pounded.

He really wanted to explore beneath her tail with his fingers, to see what it felt like. Could he? Should he? He concentrated on the back of her legs, brushing from tail to hock. Closer, more intimate than he had dared to brush before. His free hand moved across her fur, teasing downwards, inwards, towards secret mysteries. Her tail rose; her muscles flexed and her vulva moved upwards, luring his fingertips. He dropped the brush.

Just a little exploration, he thought. I just want to feel what its like inside. One hand wrapped gently around her thigh, stroked her fur. The fingers of his other hand moved towards her dark vulva; paused, uncertain; moved again; touched skin as soft as it looked. He explored up and down the sides of her entrance. The edges were smooth and wet. He eased his fingertips inside. She felt hot and slick and beautifully smooth. Her tail pulled further up and to one side, and her back arched a bit. She made no move to pull away. His fingers slid easily into her copious depths; soon they were buried past the knuckles.

He massaged with his fingers, marvelling at her wonderful silky smoothness. Suddenly he felt her jerk, and for an instant he worried that he had hurt her. But then he realised that she was humping back against his fingers with her pelvis. She was enjoying it as much as he was!

His cock was rock-hard within his shorts. He ran his free hand along her belly, teasing her nipples, sliding between her thighs. She gave an excited “Wuff!", and suddenly she leapt forward and spun around, then dropped into a play-bow in front of him, her tail wagging. He ruffled her ears. She stood up and nosed at his pants. On an impulse, he slid them down, and his cock sprang free. Immediately, her huge nose pressed forward, and her massive tongue engulfed his cock in an eager lick. The boy felt a moment of terror as giant teeth brushed his flesh and hot breath caressed his balls, but the Saint was very careful despite her enthusiasm. The huge tongue felt incredible as it lapped over his cock, his balls, his thighs. He was immediately wet with slippery drool. A week earlier, the thought of being licked anywhere by a dog would have horrified him, but now he put his hands on either side of her head and hoped the licking wouldn't end.

But then the Saint girl pulled away, and the air felt cool on his slick parts. She turned around again, and stood looking back at him, tail slightly raised. Was that an invitation? Of course, doing anything else with this dog would be wrong, irresponsible, dangerous. But he really wanted to know what it would feel like, just to have his cock inside something. Especially something so gorgeous, something – someone – who wanted him. He'd try slipping it in, just a little bit.

He positioned himself behind her, much like the Rottweiler dog in the video. She wasn't quite tall enough; he had to bend his knees. His pants got in the way; he kicked them off and threw them to one side. He held her waist with one hand, bent his knees, pulled close. Her fur felt sumptuous against the soft skin of his groin and inner thighs. Her tail arched to one side, exposing the Y-shape of her entrance. His cock was hard and still slick from her drool and his own precum.

He used his hand to ease the tip of his cock into her. He felt warmth and softness. He didn't know what he was doing, had no experience, but followed his instincts. His cock didn't get in very far at first, as if she lacked depth. Remembering what he'd noticed while fingering her earlier, he angled upwards. Now at last his cock slipped freely into her satin depths. I'm inside a female, he thought in amazement. Right inside her!

Her pussy was soft and it enveloped his cock. It felt good. I'll just go a little deeper, he thought, then I'll stop. He grabbed her hips with both hands, pressed forward, felt her tail against his thigh, her vulva pressed against his groin at the base of his cock. Oh my god... this is amazing. He eased back, thrust deeply again. He was like the Rottie dog in the video, thrusting into the receptive bitch. And then he felt her muscles clenching, rhythmically massaging his cock. Deeper, he thought. He'd never been so turned on. A couple more thrusts, then he'd stop. He gripped her tightly, thrust again. And... his rising climax overtook him; he could not stop any more than he could move the earth itself. He pressed forward, hard, deep, and then he was gasping and clenching as he poured his cum into her.

He held her tightly for a moment longer as his pulses slowed. Sunlight on his shoulders; soft fur against his thighs; the wetness of his cum oozing around his hard cock where it rested inside her. Just a moment, and then the giant Saint Bernard tensed, and leaped forward. She raced across the lawn; turned; play-bowed; raced off in a different direction. She bounded back up to him, dropped into another play-bow, and gave a loud bark, her tail wagging energetically. So that's what a bitch's orgasm looks like, he thought. She looked a little crazy, but also very very happy. She leaped up, and her tongue engulfed his crotch again. He winced as she licked at his sensitive cock, which was rapidly returning to a soft state. She cleaned up the last of his cum, then sat down and started licking her own vulva.

Zac stood for a while, feeling a bit dizzy. Then he retrieved his shorts, and pulled them back on. Gem sat looking up at him, panting in a happy grin. He knelt down and wrapped her in a tight hug.

He wasn't sure what to think. He'd lost his virginity... with a dog. Then he remembered that she'd never been bred before. So they'd both lost their virginity.

He wondered if anyone else had tried mating with a dog. Was it weird? Well, she was beautiful, so he didn't care.

Reluctantly, he got to his feet, and finished his chores by washing out the water bucket. Then he checked the gate was properly closed, gave Gem a last hug, and walked through the house and out the front door. The warm evening glow complimented the warm after-glow he felt inside.