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People say that the only thing you can't buy with money is the wagging of a dog's tail. And I must say that I agree wholeheartedly.

Thing is, to be able to get a dog and the resulting wagging tail of your own, you need money in the first place. Which is something that has been bugging me for quite a while now. Money and lack of dog. Bad combination, when you are a dog person back to front and back again. I think I must have been begging my parents for a dog since I was about six years old and first was able to ask the neighbors to hand me the dog's leash so I could run around with him.

But parents being parents and confronted with a child begging for a canine, it usually ends up with a firm "No" because they reason that they will be the ones taking care of it in the end. It didn't convince them that for over half a year, I went to the family's house every day to take their dog on a walk. Back when it was still possible to do that, free of charge, without anyone thinking ill of you.

Despite the fact that I have been looking after that dog till I was forced to let go and have been looking after dogs ever since, I have not managed to scrape together enough coin to get myself my very own canine.

Mostly because up until recently, I have done it wrong. I have offered services of leading dogs around, taking them for walks. But everyone does that. I did not have anything different. So what I did, was change strategy and demand different prices. Instead of taking dogs for walks, I now did individual dog sitting together with a friend of mine. He takes care of the bitches and I take care of the studs. We both take extra care to make sure the dogs involved will return calm and relaxed like no one else possibly can.

Well since you are reading this, probably you have quite an idea about what has changed. What kind of service both my friend and me are offering. Yes. Individual care on the highest level.

Sparks quite a fantasy, doesn't it?

Yeah did to me too, to be honest. I had never really thought about having sex with dogs. Or getting paid to make sure that the dogs are no longer raging mad because they are all pent up. It was quite a coincidence in the beginning. Like I said, I have been taking care of dogs all my life. Taking behavior classes and so on, to make sure that I could take care of the dog's needs.

There was one dog however, who was well beyond all means of thought. The one that I simply could not tame, the one that I could not read. He wasn't annoyed because he didn't get enough exercise or enough stimulation for the brain. The problem with him was simply that his balls got the better of him. The dog's name was Einstein and he was a mix of an Aussie and a Great Dane, possibly with a little splash of a Poodle or a Border Collie. Something with a lot of fur and brains. The result was an extremely large, very fluffy dog with the energy demands of a professional sportsman and the brains of a rocket physicist.

His owners had refused to castrate him. The man of the house had been especially against it, making the decision over his wife's head. Instead of the stud being neutered, they had the female dog he was living with neutered. Which lead to Einstein always having a fuckable female on display and no chance ever to conquer her. With balls the size of baseballs, he was in quite a lot of trouble. Constantly having to smell the pheromones but never ever getting the chance to act on them caused quite a few problems. His brain said "no", his eyes and nose said "temptation" and his balls constantly suggested to "go give it a try"

That was when he came to me for rehabilitation. It had taken me quite a while to understand what was happening, what exactly was the cause. Actually, I had been pushed into understanding by the dog itself.

You probably know already what happened when I found out. Possibly you imagine me sleeping naked or being wet from the shower when the dog conquered me, yes? Well, both is true, in a manner of speaking.

I had enjoyed a bit of private time after an exhausting training day with Einstein. Which meant that l had been relaxing in the shower, the nozzle between my legs and imagining some large dick fucking me while I was sweating and screaming in pleasure. I was alone in the flat, minus Einstein of course, and therefore not really ashamed to be loud about it. So I took my sweet time and let the water do its magic. The nozzle was set on one powerful middle stream and massaging my aching netherlips while I leaned against the cold tiles, biting my finger and fantasizing about fingers and mouths caressing me. The water splashed around my swollen lips and clit, sending sparks of pleasure through my body until came.

It was quite good, even though it would most certainly have been even better if I had had a dick to get off on. But it left me satisfied enough to not immediately throw myself at any man I crossed paths with.

I stepped out of the shower, toweled my hair off and went into my bedroom, still naked and mostly wet. It was summer and I enjoyed the cool air on my skin as I flopped down on my bed to read a little. Cool air was wafting in through the open window every now and then, tickling pleasantly on my skin while i engrossed myself in a novel. Einstein's owners would not pick him up for several hours so I figured, I'd catch on with my reading.

I had not checked on Einstein however. Before I had stepped into the shower I had tossed him a bone and thought he was still busy with it. So I had not seen him perk up his ears and lift his head to sniff the air as I left the shower. I had not paid much attention to the fact that he had been following me through the bedroom as if being pulled by a wire. When his large shaggy head and front paws appeared on the bed, I assumed he was going to jump on and curl up next to me. What I had not expected was his hot tongue licking over my folds and my still tingling clit.