Lad and Me at Christmas by threeOranges

You will get a sentimental feeling when you hearvoices singing, “Let’s be jolly,

pack my ass with border collie…”

We live “out here on the edge of the prairie,” as the guy on the radio used to say, and when the wind comes rushing down the plain this time of year, there is no sweetly waving wheat; it just feels anywhere from bitterly to lethally cold. You can argue whether or not it’s the most wonderful time of the year, I suppose, but opinions aside, late December on the northern plains is cold. Taking your pants off in a drafty barn is not to be recommended. That’s a frustrating problem for Lad and me.

Lad’s my border collie, my best friend, and… well, he’s far more than a friend. He’s a big, handsome, black and white boy with gleaming amber eyes; he’s smart, he’s cocky, he’s emphatically, intoxicatingly male, and he likes to fuck a lot. I like helping him out with that. Nothing’s nicer than catching the look in his eye, realizing we both want it, and dashing out to a secluded place in the hay where I can hike my ass up and let him take me however he wants. But we depend on the seclusion that the barn affords us. Living with family means that doing it in the house is almost entirely out of the question, because it’s very, very rare that there isn’t someone else hanging around, especially in winter. I have no idea what the consequences would be if someone caught us going at it, but I have no urge to find out. So when it’s a deep freeze out there we just do without, for the most part. The tension builds and builds, and subzero temperatures do nothing to take the edge off it. By the time a few weeks have gone by, my mind can scarcely turn away from the thought of getting a belly full of warm collie cum, or a rough doggy stuffing and a long, wet, leisurely, tight tie.

Last year, as Christmas was drawing near, the weather had been exceptionally harsh. Chest-high snow drifts stood between us and the barn, and I was near the breaking point. Lad must have been too. He is usually well-mannered, but more and more frequently, he was bumping me with his head to get my attention, giving me the eye, and trying to herd me around. I was genuinely considering the possibility of building an igloo and trying to get it warm inside, when the thought of Christmas Eve came into my head, shining like a golden beacon… Christmas Eve, and a two-hour church service. Plus travel time! A girl and her dog could do a lot with two hours alone.

When the day came, I did something that I very rarely do, and flat-out lied to my parents, telling them that I was feeling unwell. I asked to stay home, and they agreed without questioning anything too closely. It seemed like they might have seen through the lie, but were letting it slide. Perhaps they just understood, in a general way, that I wanted some time alone, and they were willing to let me have that as a little day-before-Christmas gift. I felt shabby about doing it, though — skipping church for some dogfucking. You wrestle a bit with your self-image when you do something like that. I made a mental note to try to make it up to my parents at some point.

I lay in my room, reading, with only about ten percent of my brain engaged, until the rest of the family was ready to go. They checked with me one more time, and I said that, yes, I still wanted to stay home. The truck pulled out of the driveway, and I watched the headlights recede down the long, dark township road. I waited until they were out of sight, then forced myself to wait another ten minutes to be sure there wouldn’t be any early return for some forgotten item.

The coast seemed to be clear. I let Lad in. He’s well insulated and good at finding cozy places to curl up, and generally seems happier when he’s not cooped up indoors, so he mostly stays outside in all but the most dangerous weather. Nonetheless, he was happy to come inside. For a few minutes, he just trotted around busily inspecting all the indoor stuff, including the big Christmas tree in the living room, which he regarded with some evident suspicion. After that, though, he came to me and gave me an, “OK, what now?” look. “Hey, come on,” I said, and he followed me to my room.

I had my own, smaller Christmas tree in my room. It had been cut only a few days before, and there was still a fresh, frosty smell of pine about it. There’s a plush, furry rug on the floor, too. I lay down there, looking up at the soft, colorful glow of the lights on the tree, shining out from the depths of the thick needles. I patted my chest and Lad lay down on top of me, paws reaching up to my shoulders. He has a big barrel of a chest, and it felt strong and solid against mine, nestled between my breasts and radiating warmth. He scooted a little farther up my body so that he could lick my face. I brushed my hair out of the way, laced my hands around his back, and opened my mouth. Our teeth clicked lightly as he licked inside, as deep as he could reach, and I squeezed him tight, reveling in the closeness, the contact, and the anticipation. Lad’s white tail tip swished back and forth, brushing my knees as he wriggled happily under the touch of my fingers and continued licking my neck and face. You’d think, after the long wait, I would have been rushing to get to business. Now that we were so close, though, it felt good to linger, to watch the lights, and drift into a blissful state of affection, warmth, and desire all mixed together.

Eventually, though, desire is always going to win out, especially when it’s been pent up for so long. I reached between us, under Lad’s belly, and gave his sheath a light rub back and forth. A little bit of warmth on my wrist let me know that the tip of his cock was coming out. I guided him into a sitting position, right on my hips, so I could look up over his white chest to his muzzle, which was now hanging slightly open, and down the space between us to a head-on view of his emerging pink cock, pointing straight at me. I stroked him very gently a few more times. A dribble leaked out onto my wrist, then a couple of modest spurts followed, and after that the first strong jets came. I angled him up lightly with my hand and got a few splashes on my neck and my chin. A stray jerk sent one spritz into my ear, of all places, then I got him aimed where I wanted him and let the warm salty fluid splash on my lips. His hips began to buck, and as much as I loved the taste of him, I was soaking wet inside my pants and aching to get him inside me. Carefully, I brought my hand to my face and licked up the pool of doggy juice that had accumulated in my palm. Then I patted the floor beside me. He hopped off and stood watching me intensely as I stripped off — which takes a minute or two when you’re layered up for winter — until I was totally bare. Lad pressed against my legs, looking up at me in anticipation, and I admired a view of the two of us in the mirror, myself and my glossy, sleek, athletic boy.

He nosed my crotch and, still standing, I spread my legs and let him lick. His tongue flattened against my pussy as he eagerly lapped up juice, his ears pushed back, his head wedged into my legs, his eyes looking up at me. Everything was wet and slippery and I was so heated up that I was already letting out barely stifled yelps as his tongue worked me over. The fur on his muzzle was soon lathered with cream. I turned and leaned forward a little, bracing one arm against the wall and pulling my cheeks apart with my free hand. Lad dove back in with enthusiasm, his tongue strokes now sweeping up over my asshole… and then he pushed hard against the opening and licked right up inside my ass. I think my eyes actually crossed a little, and my legs went wobbly. The arm on the wall kept me upright, but I felt on the verge of collapsing. I could feel the hardness of his teeth pressed right up against the rim of my ass as he did everything he could to get his tongue deep up in me. Fur tickled my cheeks and inner thighs, and his tongue squirmed, flexed, and slid in and out with a light rasp. I reached around with my other hand, resting my forehead against the wall, and pulled myself as wide open as I could, hoping to help him get even just a little deeper. He obliged for a moment, pushing hard. Then he withdrew his tongue from my ass, gave me a few more licks all around my ass, pussy, and thighs (which were as lathered as his muzzle by this point), and startled me with a light nip and one assertive “woof!” which sufficed to get his message across.

I turned toward him and ruffled his head fur, but he stepped back from my touch and turned his eyes up at me with a sharp look: “Stop messing around and get in position!” Happy to oblige, I got down on all fours, legs spread wide enough to make room for him, ass up at a height and angle determined by practical experience. He positioned himself and mounted up without any further prelude, front paws clutching around my waist. As soon as he had me in his grip, he was humping and jabbing his cock at me. He hit my pussy, and that aching desire to get him fully inside me intensified as if all the previous weeks’ frustrations were distilled down into one blindingly horny moment. But he pulled back! The little bastard pulled back and aimed higher, nailing my well-licked ass dead center on the next stroke. Now, I know very well he prefers that, and I’m usually happy to let him stuff my ass as long and hard as he wants. There’s nothing wrong with an ass-full of dog, in fact, there’s everything right about it. It’s the fullest of full feelings. But at that particular moment, a deeper urge drove me to reach back, hold him by the root, and aim him back down into my pussy again. He grumbled — he actually grumbled at me, a low noise down in his throat — but his hindquarters were going on automatic. He humped forward again full force, slid into me, and grumbled no more as he tightened his forelegs around me and began pounding.