Athletix - Intro (edit)
Karla loved the smell of hot metal. She grew up in this foundry, with hot vats of steel ready over moulds and hulking firebrick tempering kilns and whining machinery and always a faint whiff of singed fur. Now, though, the normal sounds were quited save a few fires still roaring while the staff were having tea.She smiled widely, as her father chuckled - he was the owner of this foundry, a rare canine business owner and, even rarer, a member of the chamber of commerce. He was broad, he was powerful, and he had floppy soft black ears that she would play with when he tossed her into the air. He never seemed to have a violent hair on him, but as a burly Rottweiler he may never have needed to fight; his presence was famous for dissapating disputes. He was chuckling, and sitting on the floor with his daughter and most of the staff, and reached out for a small glass of sweet, strong tea.
"Heh, Karla, I hope you are, you know, happy there," he said, refering to her place at university. She let her eyes wander over the dog sitting next to her father, a young, very well built Rottweiler. In the foundry, the only other Rottweilers were her brothers. They were just plain unusual this far south of the mountains. Like most of the dogs, he was bare-chested and clad in leather pants and long, thick gauntlets - the gauntlets put aside for drinking several cups of tea. Like almost all male dogs, too, his pants had a fly laced up all the way from the gusset between the legs to accommodate their equipment, and this young dog's laces were strained to cover him - there was barely enough left to make a tiny, tight little bow-knot at the top!
"Hmm, yes Papa," she said, rolling her eyes theatrically at the implication of 'happy,' their not-so-secret code for getting some.
"Oh?" Papa Fosch replied, sipping his tea and resting his arm over the shoulder of his young, delicious-looking assistant who Karla was letting do all kinds of things to her in her imagination. "I thought it was mostly just cats" The tea-maker, a pup of some slight build and unknown provenance, clinked some cups together and handed Karla one before limping over to the next dogs.
"Papa!" she cried, loathing the implication that she would have cats in her bed. Her dad smiled and laughed louder, letting her know he was only joking! Still, a bit offended, Karla added: "I have more than enough companions, thank you! None are at the university, though." Then thoughtfully: "TWO of them are even Rottweiler!" She looked at her father with playful triumph. Everyone knew the old dog's preference that his daughter continued their Rottweil heritage. Papa arched his eyebrows and nodded.
"Good! Good! Although I want to introduce you to Richter here," he said, patting the young Rott on the shoulder. The younger dog smiled a bit sheepishly - 'Gods, he's younger than me!' thought Karla - and Papa reached over with his other paw and fondled Richter's crotch, saying "Ja, and I can attest he's built to make any bitch happy!" as the rest of the staff, all strong, powerful males guffawed. Richter squirmed as Papa Fosch leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.
As Papa Fosch leaned back, he winked at his daughter. "Ja, truthfully though, he's even bigger than Scampi there," jerking his head to indicate a big male dog still standing, not joined with the others, and tending to a fire under a crucible. He was huge, the only dog in here comparable to her father in size but younger, with sullen eyes and a mean look and cruel, short-cropped ears. He appeared to be some kind of pit dog, soot-colored, and looked all-over dangerous. Papa Fosch thought it hilarious to nick-name Scampi. The tea-pup had limped over to him and was pouring the mean-looking dog a small cup of tea. Karla wasn't going to be made to feel embarrassed, though, and winked slyly at Richter while indicating the tea-pup with a toss of her head. "Why is your tea-pup barely able to walk around the shop? Must you always fuck them until they break, Papa?"
Her father pondered a moment, looking thoughtful. "You are right, Karla, I am too hard on all my staff." More laughter. He turned and shouted at the tea-pup. "HEY, MARRON!" The slight dog looked up, still letting a drizzle of tea cascade into a small glass, the second in a row for Scampi. "I'm the only one who gets to fuck you, right?"
Marron looked playful. "Si, maestro, only you!" he called, then handed the glass to his towering neighbor. Papa Fosch looked livid. "WHAT?" he roared. "I TOLD you to keep the building inspector HAPPY!" Everyone laughed uproariously, and even Scampi flashed the barest, meanest-looking look of mirth Karla had ever seen. Papa turned to Karla with smiling eyes and shook his head. "Seriously, Marron? He rides anything with three legs. I've caught him with every member of the staff on company time, and the Fire Brigade, and I think he lives with Scampi..."
He trailed off, in honest thought. The other dogs all stood and shook their limbs and started taking up their tools, and even Richter shook his way out from under Papa Fosch's powerful arm. Her father turned to her and said, looking sad, "Seriously, Scampi, I think he's in with some of the local criminal syndicate. I've never heard from them, Praise Be, but I don't know... a fine-built dog... he's a hard, good worker... worth his pay, for sure..." and muttered to himself more than to her. Karla found her eyes wandering over the far pair, feeling her nipples harden and the thought of the mean mongrel dog nailing her against an alley wall_, her legs around his waist, knot swelling and slapping her thick, round ass..._
Then she snapped out of her moist reverie. Karla loved this foundry and the banter and wanted to stay, but she had a tram to catch across the city and get back to her studies.
"Papa, I love it here, but exams..."
"Oh, I know, daughter Karla. I am so glad you came to visit!" They both rose, and Marron passed by. Her father goosed him. "But give some thought to this Richter business... I borrowed him from some old friends over the mountains just so you could meet a real Rottweil!" Karla rolled her eyes, and stood on her tip-toes and kissed her father on the cheek, almost embarrassed at the way her full, achingly large breasts brushed his body. Papa Fosch chuckled. "Well, just don't get a belly full of mongrel pups by Scampi, eh?"
"Papa! I'll TRY not to get pregnant between here and the workshop door!" and they parted ways. GOD, she thought, I AM SO FUCKING HORNY. She couldn't stop thinking about Richter, or Scampi, or both of them at the same time, and she hadn't even left the workshop. Yes, yes, her mind wirled, the big soot-colored stud behind her as she kisses Richter's chest, trying to suck on his nipples as she is jerked by Scampi's deep, short thrusts in her muscular, thick ass! Their growls and moans and grunts and the sound of heavy, hard slapping flesh echoing around the workshop! One paw reaching back to spread herself wider, the other paw hefting each of Richter's enormous, heavy testes in turn as his spurts of precum jet hot, hot and sticky on her jostling breasts! Gah! She had to stop thinking about it! It was making her crazy and wet. Surely every dog here would sense it in the air.
She shook here head once, to clear it... and sauntered towards the door, and looked up at the big, crop-eared fighting dog. Their eyes met. He did not smile. Her mind was clouding again! She felt evil, and looked over her shoulder to the rest of the staff, waving to her father, who waved back, and winking at Richter, who looked giddy. Knowing that everyone was watching, she reached out, with one paw, and let it slide up Scampi's broad chest, right in the deep groove between his pectoral muscles, and then finally turned her eyes to his. She pushed up with her toes - even as tall as she was, she needed to stretch with this dog! - and Scampi leaned down and their muzzles met in a wet, warm, passionate kiss. The mongrel pit-dog's paws dropped his tools and caught her in a strong embrace, pulling her to him as their teeth clicked and tongues tangled, and her tight erect nipples dug through her shirt against his fur. Scampi growled deep in his chest. Those huge paws of his squeezed her hard, round rump and one carressed her breast, squeezing slightly also, as the foundry echoed with wolf-whistles. Finally, wordlessly, she pulled back, breaking the kiss and letting her paws wander over Scampi's chest, down across his abdomen, and tracing the laces over his gratifyingly hardening groin bulge, before turning and, blowing Richter a kiss! Then she raced out, but not before pulling the little bow of Scampi's laces undone. She emerged into the street followed by more uproarious laughter and smiled broadly to herself.
She strolled down the street to the busy corner and waited with a crowd to catch a street-train. She towered over almost all the other assembled persons, mostly dogs, a few cats well dressed going from the more industrial quarters to someother place. It was getting late enough that even a few of them looked ready for evening gatherings or parties; the sun was getting that golden quality as it sunk lower over in the west. In the swirl a tram arrived, and she waited for the cats to board. The tram filled up, and she waited again. Another tram came a few minutes later, and more cats filed on. The sunlight grew more amber, and the crowd much smaller. She noticed a knot of dogs leaning against a brick wall, on the corner. Four males, looking of the same cut as Scampi with close-cropped ears and mean eyes , the biggest of which stood up and sauntered her way, letting her watch as his eyes slid up and down her body in the most lascivious manner this uncouth hound could muster. She arched her eyes; he was just a hair taller than her. He didn't seem tall because he ears had been cropped off almost even with his skull! His three companions were smaller, but very stocky and muscled but young. They would have all seemed to be fine studdogs to a lesser bitch than herself, she was sure. Still. Standards and all.
"Hey, baby," the tallest one drawled, "I never seen you here before. What say me and my friends here show you the best rides in the neighborhood?" He smirked, and his posse laughed. He strolled towards her, reaching down and stroking his fat package... in those laces, so easy to be undone, Karla could see her pulling the string with her teeth and nuzzling a gorging sheath free, yes...
"What I tell you, boys, bitches are all the same, big or small," he started saying over his shoulder to his friends, even while his eyes remained on hers.
Gods, she thought, just send me a real stud for once. This attitude is a mood killer. "Easy, dog," she growled, holding up a paw and pushing back solidly, stopping him in his tracks. He opened his arms, looking innocent but louche with his open jacket and no shirt, still smirking. "I'm from this neighborhood, dog, and if I wanted your little buschoen friends to show me a good time they'd be the first to know." The dog laughed and turned to his three back-ups, making a rude gesture before turning back to her, still putting preassure on her paw. She let her eyes wander along the big dog's frame. "You? Maybe some other time. I'm occupied." She glared. I must be REALLY HORNY not to be strangling this creature.
The dog laughed, no longer smirking like a wannabe stud but in honest fun. "Hey, I like you, bitti," he said, using an unusual term for female dog. Karla slowly eased up on pushing him away and he slowly eased up pushing his weight her way. She flashed a smile, wondering if she could push him into the shadows before the next tram came and get some RELIEF, even if from this modest specimen.
"Hey," she said, dissapointed to hear a tram coming, "What type of dog are you?" It was a bit forward of a question, even for two dogs who migh be contemplating a spontaneous bout of athletic procreation. He didn't look offended, just quizzical. She repeated, trying a different term from farther south. "Kwui Rasza?" She stepped towards the stopping train and mounting the stair, looking over her shoulder.
"Who, us?" shouted the dog. He jerked a pawfinger at his powerful chest. "We Cane Lottatore!" All four dogs nodded and looked immensly proud of that statement and blew her kisses and grinned as she leaned out the open window of the tram. She smiled despite herself and their puppishness and settled in to the swaying of the tram, in her seat. She winced. Each bump and join in the track made the carriage jump slightly, just enough vibration to not cause discomfort but to set her groin on fire! She had to ride this across the whole city, surrounded by cats, mostly, to the university, surrounded by cats, and deal with the mounting pressure to get off. Karla winced, letting all these images swirl around her head that she had accumulated through the afternoon. Normally, she might pick up some fine dog at her last stop, or call one of her companions, but today, she thought, it was straight to the old self-amusement. The Rottweiler bitch had a need. Heck, her teeth felt like they needed to orgasm.