More Than Just A Dog by Mered88

There was a period in my life when the very thought of physical and/or sexual intimacy with a dog would have filled me with revulsion and disgust. But what if this intimacy is consensual and a source of pleasure and desire for both parties . . . what then? Unhealthy, fulfilling, unnatural, satisfying, perverted, actualizing? You be the judge

You hear people talking all the time about finding their soul-mate, about finding that one person who completes them, and usually, they’re referring to another man or woman. In my case, my soul-mate was not even human; my soul-mate turned out to be a large five-year-old German Shepard. He was a very handsome animal with a large muscular body, thick, shiny brown/black/cream colored fur, dark, intelligent eyes, broad muzzle, and when aroused, unquestionably a strong, demanding alpha male. His name was Bruno.I didn’t like him at first, feeling intimidated and a bit afraid of him, but those feelings changed over time.

I don’t know how to explain in a way that you would understand, that Bruno, on some animal level, could “read me,” understood what I wanted and needed. Perhaps it was just my imagination, but sometimes I actually felt Bruno behaved and had the emotions and even sexual perceptiveness of a human male.

What is it? What’s the word for projecting human qualities and behavior onto a pet? Is that what I was doing? Whatever the term is, that’s what it was like between my dog Bruno and me.

I know it must sound crazy to some people, but good or bad, right or wrong, I guess in a way, I became his bitch and have never regretted it.

*****

I was nineteen, and Michael was twenty-five. I met Michael through a friend, and the same night we met, after having way too much to drink, I had sex for the first time. Though he seemed pleasant, intelligent, and generally a nice person, I was still sorry I had given my virginity to a guy a barely knew.

That having been said, my now boyfriend Michael and I dated for almost six months before he started talking about our moving in together. I had fallen in love with Michael by then, and after a bit of convincing, I’d given in and said okay, I’d move in with him.

I was excited about the move. Michael, along with his dog Bruno lived in his parent’s old house that had been turned over to him when they moved to Florida. It was a lovely big house with more room than the two of us could have ever taken advantage of. Michael’s had had Bruno since he was a puppy. Bruno was a huge German Shepard, and though he probably out weighted me by at least 75 lbs, he was as sweet and cuddly as a teddy bear, and I enjoyed his company. If Michael had to work at night, Bruno would curl up on the floor at the foot of the bed and wouldn’t drift off until I had fallen asleep. Sometimes if I felt skittish being in that big house alone at night, Bruno would jump up on the bed and stretch out behind me, his massive head resting on my thigh or snuggling against my back, kind of spooning.

When I let him sleep on the bed with me, once or twice I’d awakened during the night to find him humping against me, but I wasn’t concerned because all dogs do that at one time or another. In my naivety, I thought he was having a dog dream and would push him off me and not give it any further thought as I made myself comfortable and went back to sleep.

I look back now and realized that maybe I should have paid more attention to his behavior, but Bruno had always seemed so affectionate and friendly I just didn’t worry too much about it. But after I moved in with Michael, Bruno was always with me, following me around, sleeping at my feet. Michael’s friends would often joke that Bruno seemed to be more my dog than Michael’s.

*****

As time went on, Bruno’s behavior toward Michael and me began to change noticeably. And while Michael thought little of it, I saw the changes and slowly became concerned and cautious around Bruno. He had been such a sweet, obedient dog, but lately, he wouldn’t follow commands; it was almost like he chose which ones he would obey.

Bruno would watch me and sniff at me constantly. The way he watched me was disconcerting and truthfully a little scary. Very protective or maybe proprietary, he would spring alert if Michael came near me and start growling if Michael touched or fondled, was curt, or raised his voice at me.

He would get between Michael and I. Michael typically would put him out of the bedroom at night, but if he forgot or failed to do that, Bruno would quietly come into the room and watch if Michael and I began having sex. Eventually, he would become agitated and start barking until Michael would forcefully put him out of the room. Michael thought it was funny and jokingly said, “Damn, that dog had a huge hard-on . . . I guess I should see about getting Bruno a little bitch of his own.”

Each day it seemed Bruno became more aggressive with me. I remember the afternoon when things started to fall into place and could no longer be denied or minimized. I came out of the shower, and as I was getting my fresh clothes off the bed, Bruno lunged at me, making me fall onto the bed and knocking the wind out of me. Naked stretched out on the bed, Bruno was suddenly on me, sniffing and roughly thrusting his snout between my legs, making that “humphing” noise through his nose as dogs do.

“Bruno! Bruno!” I shouted, surprised, and a little scared.

“Bruno!” I said again more firmly and pushed him away with a bit of effort. Alert to my tone of voice and obvious disapproval, Bruno jumped off the bed and retreated to his mat on the other side of the room. Watching him, I could see that Bruno was obviously excited, his penis sticking out of its sheath, erect and swollen. He looked over at me with an almost human express, curled on his mat, and began licking himself until he climaxed, oozing what I assumed was semen. I just stood there staring and then hurried out of the room.

As a firefighter, Michael typically worked 24s, i.e., 3 eight hour shifts, and if he were doing overtime, I might not see him for two or three days. During one of these extended shifts, I fell asleep on the sofa in the TV room and was slowly pulled awake from what I thought was a very nice dream. Wanting to sleep, I didn’t open my eyes and just assumed Michael had gotten home earlier than he had planned and wanted to have sex with me. He was licking me between my legs, but it felt different; why was he so rough? I could feel his nails digging into my sides and hips?

“Ouch! That hurt Michael!” I said, now not only irritated but also mad. It was then that I suddenly realized it wasn’t Michael who had been eating my pussy and who was now trying to get his cock inside me . . . it was Bruno . . . his dog.

I must have screamed bloody murder, startling the dog who paused his thrusting probe long enough for me to push him off. I jumped up off the bed as the dog got down, and watching me, came toward me as I stepped back away from him. He was growling at me as if he was the one upset at being interrupted.

“Nice boy . . . nice boy,” I said as he continued to back me up until I felt the back of my ass cheeks touch the wall.

Terrified, I stood there. I tried to run, to get around Bruno, but he wasn’t having it and began to growl and bare his teeth. Bruno was a huge dog, and I could clearly see that he had a huge cock that was large, red, and fully erect. He came up to me, nuzzling me with his nose, making it clear he wanted me to open my legs. When I didn’t open my legs, he nipped me lightly on my thigh firmly enough for me to understand he meant business. When he started growling again, I opened my legs, and he immediately pushed his head up there and began licking my slit. I was pre-menstrual at the time, and maybe this was why he was acting this way; maybe my scent had caught his attention. Bruno kept licking me harder, and despite the fear, I was soon dripping wet and within a few minutes I . . . I felt my body tensing, preparing to orgasm. What the fuck was happening to me?

There, pinned against the wall by a monstrous dog, I started cumming like some kind of perverted whore, oozing whore juice that Bruno eagerly lapped and licked. My legs were trembling as my orgasm sizzled through me, and if not for the insistent ringing of the doorbell, I can only imagine what would have happened.

“Traci! Traci! It’s me, come and open the door!”

At the sound of Michael’s voice, Bruno reluctantly backed away and ran down the stairs to the basement.

Pulling myself together, on shaky legs, I hurried to the door to let Michael in, “Sorry honey, I put the latch on the door when I lay down for a nap. . . I wasn’t expecting you home until tomorrow.”

Later that night, when we were getting ready for bed, I attempted to tell Michael about Bruno’s incident. Of course, I didn’t give him all of the details, but I tried to explain just how aggressive the dog had been. Michael listened but dismissed it, saying since my period was due, Bruno probably was sensing the change in pheromones, my scent, and he could tell I was in heat. Well, I couldn’t take it lightly . . . it had been a frightening experience.

We had sex, and afterward, Michael rolled over and quickly fell asleep. Lying there still thinking about what had happened, I was thankful when Bruno, who had been outside in the hallway the whole time, scratching on the bedroom door and whining for entry, finally quieting down.

*****

After that, When Michael wasn’t home or was at work, I’d always ask him to make sure the dog was in the yard. I had reached the point where I didn’t want him near me. I was that afraid of him. That worked fine for a few weeks until the Friday afternoon that Michael was driving up the coast and couldn’t take Bruno with him.

“Sweetie, I don’t know why you all of a sudden don’t like Bruno, but I can’t take him with me this trip. I’ll leave him in the dog run, so you don’t have to worry about him, and he won’t be able to annoy you.”