FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Author's Note: the following story is fiction (well, inspired incredibly loosely by a real life experience) and may contain acts of yiffery including, but not limited to, sexual activities between two males, feral-anthro sex, and gratuitous use of a sandwich spread. If your taste buds aren't whetted for this kind of stuff, feel free to make a baloney and cheese. If the opposite applies, then read and enjoy...

Once again, many gracious thanks go to my doting jackal and mate, Tym. Puppy, life may not be as perfect as fiction. Life may throw us peanuts, so we make peanut butter, and no one will get that reference but us. The point is, without our problems and idiosyncrasies, I would not have near the material I have to work with. Thank you for continuing to love and inspire me...I still don't know why you do.

FEEDBACK always welcome to: [email protected]

Peanut Butter and Milkbones ©MMV Whyte Yoté

"Come on, goddammit, push it in!" yelled Kennedy, trying not to bite his pillow in half.

"I'm trying! I don't want to hurt you!" replied Boomer, applying even more pressure as he said it. The tailhole in front of him stretched to an incredible girth, and Boomer's own hole tingled just looking at it. He winced and kept pushing.

"I'll tell you when it hurts, okay? I just need this to happen! I don't care how much it hurts," came the muffled pillow-voice of the husky.

If I hurt you, the dingo thought, you won't be able to try for a week. No sex for the dingo.

Kennedy spread his legs as wide as he could without feeling like his balls would rip apart underneath him. The pressure on his hole was excruciating; the tip of the toy was hitting past his prostate, and if the knot breached him something would rip...either that, or be straightened where there was no room for straightening. His cock, however, was painfully hard and he knew the need to urinate was a phantom caused by the rubbing deep inside him.

The dingo braced himself on his knees, putting weight behind one arm, and pushed on the remaining exposed inches of the toy not inside his boyfriend's rear. The husky screamed into the pillow, pounded the bed, but did not indicate he wanted Boomer to stop. Boomer's free hand was busy stroking his own hardon while he watched the inevitable flow of precum from the huskycock to the towel set below his belly.

"Owowowowow!" Kennedy gibbered and jerked forward, then back harshly; there was a little give as the first half of the three-inch knot slipped into him. Seeing a chance to achieve his goal, Boomer shoved with all his weight, sliding back on the sheets as he did so.

"Shit! Rawrruff!" said the husky in a combination of resentment and anger. Boomer saw his hips lunge downward, and knew that, once again, it was the end of the road. The dingo watched, drooling, as his mate unloaded a healthy puddle of semen onto the towel untouched. Kennedy groaned and pushed back harder in one final futile attempt at a tie, but his body wouldn't give...not this time. Not ever, it seemed.

Kennedy lifted off the pillow long enough to shout "Orange...ORANGE!" Immediately Boomer let off at hearing the safeword, and the husky helped to expel the largest part of the black dildo. As much as the dingo wanted to please his mate and see him take the entire toy, and as much as Kennedy had been working for a tie, the safeword was the final say in their bedroom action. Still, Boomer fought to suppress a grin, like he did most every time..."orange," the most innocuous safeword in the history of the world.

"Aww, dammit," said the husky, his front end collapsed into the covers while his tail was held high, curled over his back. His hole spasmed, drawing what remained of the dildo back into him. Boomer reluctantly stopped pawing and crawled over to his mate's side, stroking his back lovingly.

"You okay?"

Kennedy panted: "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. I just wanted to take the whole thing this time. You know how long we practiced tonight?"

Boomer nodded: three hours. Kennedy had kept himself loose for days, stretching himself little by little, and tonight they went nice and slow, with plenty of Vaseline (because it was practically the only thing that didn't sting when applied in large quantities), but once again the sheer size of the toy had set him off by itself. Right now it was more of a curse than anything else. The dingo skritched the husky's back down the middle, where the blue-grey fur was white along his spine, and licked at Kennedy's muzzle.

"Thanks, hon," the husky said. "Would you mind taking that thing out of me now? I'm starting to come down."

"Sure." Boomer reached back and pulled gently; the large black shaft slid out with a dull pop. Kennedy shut tight right around it and gasped.

"Man, that hurts!" He curled up tight and let himself fall onto one side, arms wrapped around his tubby stomach. His tail was actually trying to tuck itself between his legs. Boomer lay facing the big husky and contoured his thin form to Kennedy's more round body, burying his muzzle under the chestruff. He could feel the husky's remaining cum transfer to his own sheath, and was reminded that his erection, though dwindled, still needed attention. For now he would settle for a nice, comfortable cuddle.

The two canines stayed in each other's arms; Boomer listened to the slowing of Kennedy's heart and steady breathing, drawing curlicues in his bellyfur. "I love you, husky," he murmured, trying to comfort his mate. Instead, he felt a shuddering sigh, the sound of a fur about to give up on a lofty goal.

"I love you too." The words were there, but the meaning was lost.

"Please tell me what's wrong." The dingo looked up into Kennedy's face, expecting tears, and felt relief when he saw none. He licked the tip of the husky's nose, smiling when he smiled.

"Me. Me is what's wrong."

"There's nothing wrong with you, and we both know that," said the dingo. "Remember, it's mostly psychological."

"I know," replied Kennedy dejectedly. This was just the newest problem in a series of problems the pair had had to tackle since they found each other on the Internet nearly a year ago.

* * *

Kennedy, a big fluffy twenty-one-year-old Siberian husky stuck living with his parents, had been desperately searching for friendship online (the only outlet where furs would take him seriously). Out of the clear blue sky one day, a dingo who had recently moved from Melbourne to Winnipeg had popped up randomly in an instant message window:

*do you like oranges?*

*what? who are you?*

*just wanted to talk, and I figured that oranges would be a better icebreaker than OMGWTFLMAO*

*ugh, I can't STAND people who do that! sure, I would love to talk. um...i like mandarin oranges...*

After this rather unconventional introduction, Kennedy learned the dingo's name was Boomer (a nickname derived, of course, from "boomerang"; his real name was Gregory) and both he and the husky shared a lot in common, not the least of which was the fact that neither could relate well to furs in real life. It seemed the Internet had some good things to offer after all.

Through a combination of Boomer's friendly attention and conversation and Kennedy's acceptance of the same, a friendship turned into a fledgling relationship. Each were surprised when they finally decided to trade pictures: Kennedy could not believe that someone as...well, gorgeous...as Boomer, an outback athlete and avid kayaker, didn't reject him outright. On the other hand, the dingo tried hard to hold back his instant attraction to the husky. A closet chubby-chaser, Boomer thought it sweetened the deal even more to find out the canine whose personality he'd fallen for was the perfect picture of handsomeness, in his opinion.

Phone calls followed, as did hand-written letters from Boomer to Kennedy (and a few memorable webcam sessions that helped the husky to finally get over a fear of nudity, both his own and others'). He had a true wit and style not found in modern-day society, writing in scented inks, on hand-made paper, in envelopes sealed with wax. It was a normal thing to the dingo, but after a particular letter, in which Boomer placed the husky on a pedestal equal to the likes of Adonis and Hercules, it finally occurred to Kennedy that he was being serenaded by someone more than a thousand miles away.

Shortly after, both admitted a shared love and a willingness to try for a real relationship, so Boomer cut what little ties he had and moved down to live with the husky. Kennedy, of course, was more than willing to move out of his parents' house. And so, with little complaint from neither bosses nor parents, the two took the biggest chance in their respective lives and rented a modest apartment in Wichita, Kansas, of all places.

The love was real, deep and lasting, but Boomer soon came to realize Kennedy's strict Lutheran upbringing had effectively trapped any thoughts of sexuality deep within the confines of his mind. Even talking about sex was grounds for discomfort and avoidance, and it frustrated the dingo to no end that he couldn't find a way to change his mate. After patience, many dates and some good, honest crying, Kennedy finally accepted the fact that he could be a sexual being. He agreed to let Boomer touch him.

"Just don't...don't hurt me, okay?" he had asked tenuously, his eyes bright and expectant and darting with virgin fear at the same time.

"This won't hurt one bit, puppy," Boomer murmured in reply, smiling a doting I-don't-care-how-long-it-takes smile. "You'll get a kick out of this. Trust me." Just about the strongest thing Kennedy had holding him to Boomer was that trust.

That night, that first night, had been a magical breakthrough. Boomer went nice and slow, being gentle and seductive and incredibly erotic at the same time. He started out by massaging Kennedy's bare upper torso, paying attention to the always-knotted shoulderblades underneath his thick fur. The husky moaned his appreciation and didn't complain when he was pulled onto his back and into a deep kiss.

Boomer wanted to work his mate up for a memorable first time; he would be the only person so far to ever touch Kennedy's body in a sexual way so he tread carefully, testing the waters with each move. He looked the husky over as he ran a finger down the center of his belly and went teasingly close to the beltline. Every time he made for Kennedy's groin the husky would tense up but spread his legs at the same time; clamping his muzzle a little tighter.

When the dingo finally got to unzipping the husky's fly he found it difficult to work around the flesh that was already hard and unsheathed under the denim. Licking his lips, the zipper parted over Kennedy's bulging briefs and spread open. Pants and briefs made their way to the floor, and as the kiss ended the dingo could sense a release of tension built up over a very long time.

Kennedy lay, breathing shallowly and looking down his stomach to his mate, the disbelief on his face almost comical.

"What are you staring for?" asked Boomer as his hand ran up the inside of one of Kennedy's thighs, over his balls and started to knead his still-sheathed knot.

"Oh, God!" came the reply, accompanied by some forceful thrusts. When he had gathered himself again, the husky said, "I just didn't think I'd ever be doing this...oh my God it feels so good!"

"Of course it does, silly. It always feels better when someone else does it for you...and when that someone knows what he's doing, of course." Boomer had waited long and patiently for this moment, and as the chubby canine stared at the ceiling, mouth agape, he lowered his drool-slick muzzle to encase close to six inches of flaming-red cock. His throat was immediately coated with warm, thin pre, and he smiled around the maleness. This was going to be fun.

And it had been fun, for both of them. Boomer had worked on Kennedy for more than an hour, sitting between his legs, alternately slathering over his cock and stroking him nearer to his limits. Unlike others Boomer knew, the husky was completely silent when he liked the treatment he was receiving. Not even his face showed a trace of emotion, only intense concentration.

His attitude changed totally, however, when he was just about to come. Kennedy bucked into the dingo's grip, his claws bunching up the sheets in little sweaty piles. His head tilted up and flopped hard back down onto the bed; sprays of spittle blasted through his teeth as he breathed. And then, in the final moment before, the husky barked. The sound was startlingly loud after all the silence, and was punctuated by a short (but very thick) rope of semen on Kennedy's chest. It was followed by two more spurts and multiple rivers that pooled in Boomer's closed fist and ran down his knuckles.

The husky collapsed and sighed, unable to speak. Boomer wiped his hand on his own chest and climbed up beside his boyfriend, whose tongue lolled out of what could only be described as a shit-eating grin.

"I take it that was fun for you?" the dingo asked, and got an emphatic nod in response, followed by a kiss even deeper than the one he had given. Both slept soundly that night.

Even though that day had been a breakthrough, Kennedy had many more things to learn, and each one was a challenge. Boomer taught him everything he knew about masturbation, fellatio, toys and even some more wild kinks that Kennedy had to admit did nothing for him in the end. They worked slowly, lovingly, and finally they approached the subject of penetration.

He demonstrated, without much practice, his uncanny ability to mount Boomer in every conceivable fashion, and succeeded in bringing the dingo off in each. But when it came to reciprocation, the husky was scared out of his wits. Still a virgin, and intimidated by Boomer's eleven-inch cock and almost three-inch knot, he could barely stand the dingo's cockhead entering him. This frustrated them both, so on came the toy. It was modeled after a large canid penis, colored black and came with the knot included.

"This way," the dingo had said reassuringly, "we can open you up nice and slow without worrying about positions or me getting soft." Kennedy had giggled a little at that. The husky vowed to practice every day with the toy, each time pushing it in a little further until he was sure the knot would pop in...but it never did. The tip of the toy's head kept constant pressure on his prostate, and when he tried to go all the way an earth-shattering orgasm would rip through him, followed by a letdown that forced him to stop from the pain.

Boomer knew his mate wanted to please, and knew he wanted to take Kennedy's virginity without hurting him, but his patience allowed encouragement instead of complaint. Still, if the toy wouldn't work, then what would? The options left to them were few.

* * *

"I know," said the husky dejectedly. "But do you think I'm going to go to my friendly neighborhood shrink and ask him how I can get over my problem of premature ejaculation because I'm trying to take it up the ass like a good boy?"

Boomer shrunk away from the cynicism. "Whoa, mate. Are you saying this is making you angry?"

"Well, aren't you? I mean, you're sitting there with a perfectly good cock between your legs and I can't do a thing about it."

"There are alternatives, puppy. You aren't doing this for me, are you?" Kennedy's eyes, deep and soft and honest, answered for him.

"Because if you are, it's not going to be worth it. You'll never have any self-respect if you keep doing things for other people." The dingo nuzzled deeper into Kennedy's chestfur and rumbled deeply, something that never failed to improve the husky's demeanor. Soon he received some nice, firm skritches in return for his efforts.

"Don't you have an early day tomorrow?" asked Kennedy, still running his claws over Boomer's scalp and down the backs of his ears.

"Mmph," replied a voice from somewhere below.

"I think you do." He pushed Boomer away and smiled down at his grinning, everything-will-be-all-right face.

"Don't you have school as well?"

"Yep. Gotta love those eight o'clock classes. Wanna take a shower?"

"Only if you let me finger you while you're still loose."

"Just don't get soap in me!" said the husky, laughing in spite of himself. He tumbled out of bed and walked to the bathroom, making sure to keep his tail nice and curled, knowing he was teasing his mate into another erection. It just then occurred to him that the dingo still hadn't gotten off, and there was this new trick he had been meaning to try with his muzzle for some time.

* * *

The soft white noise coming from the alarm clock woke Kennedy up at a snail's pace, bringing him back from deep, vivid dreams to greet the muted sunshine in his room with a minimum of intrusion. His old alarm clock, on which the only feature had been radio-wake up, had bombarded him with politics every morning for years. He was glad he had let Boomer talk him into the relatively expensive purchase from The Sharper Image. But, as he turned to wake his sleeping mate, he found that the other side of the bed had already been vacated and made.

As he sat up, scratching his crotch, he remembered last night and smiled. If nothing else, they had both gotten off. The dingo, in particular, had finished the night with quite a bang: the husky had had to carry him into bed after his legs had given out in the shower. Kennedy smacked his mouth; the taste of seed was still strong and wild on his tongue.

The second the canine stood his nose hit a myriad of smells coming from the kitchen. Boomer had, once again, managed to beat him out of bed and start cooking breakfast. Quickly the husky threw on a robe and padded down the short hallway of their one-bedroom apartment to the kitchen.

"You know," said the husky, placing one hand on Boomer's right shoulder and the other on his tail, stroking, "you have to let me cook one of these days. I won't kill us."

The dingo let out a small murr, then controlled himself: "I figured I owed you from that wonderful job you did last night in the shower. Oh, yeah...and good job on catching me, too."

"Come on, I wasn't that good."

"You had to carry me to bed. That's incredible in my book."

"I just want to make you feel good until I can give you the real thing, that's all."

Boomer turned from his sizzling pan and looked the husky in the eyes. "You are the real thing, mate. I didn't fall in love with your body, although it's quite the bonus. I fell in love with your personality. Are we going to have to go through this every day until you believe me, or will you sit down and eat your breakfast?"

"Yes sir," mocked Kennedy, getting in a small peck on Boomer's cheek before he sat down. A glass of orange juice had already been placed in front of him and he took a swig, his taste buds bursting to life for the day.

As the dingo turned away from the stove to push scrambled eggs and bacon onto two plates, he said, "By the way, where did you learn that trick, anyway? I didn't know you could do things like that with your soft palate."

"Internet," replied Kennedy.

"No way, José."

"Wanna check the history bar on Firefox?"

Boomer grinned and shook his head.

"What? I wanted to find out different things I could do with my muzzle, so I just asked Google the question. The first Web site I visited told me that the lips and tongue aren't the only things you can use to make your mate's cock happy. At least it fits in one orifice."

"Oh, stop that, you. Eat your breakfast or we're going to be late. I'm afraid we don't have time for a quickie this morning. I, for one, don't need it."

"That's okay. I'll just paw off when I get to school."

"You do that?"

"Every day after my first class. Same stall, same bathroom. Is that weird to you?"

"No, not really. I used to do the same thing," said Boomer in between bites.

A rousing atonal rendition of "Waltzing Matilda" interrupted the early-morning conversation. The dingo blushed, like he always did when his cell phone rang, picked up the device and pressed the SEND button.

"G'day...oh hello, Mrs. Lister. How're you? Good, glad to hear it. What can I do for you?"

Kennedy finished off his meal as he listened to the one-sided conversation at the other end of the table. Julie Lister was a friend of Boomer's, a middle-aged Realtor and amateur dog breeder who had helped the pair find their apartment pro bono.

"Well, how long are we looking at? That's not too bad, I'm...I'm sure that between the two of us there won't be a problem. Ah yes, Brutus...well, neither of us has had enough physical activity lately, so we're quite due for a workout...no, no trouble at all. Yes, Mrs. Lister. Tomorrow morning? Oh good, we're both free then...sure, I'll tell him. Absolutely, ma'am. You're welcome, Mrs. Lister. Goodbye." The dingo ended the call and was immediately met by the husky's shining, inquisitive stare. "That was Mrs. Lister."

"Duh." Kennedy rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, she's starting a new program over at her office and it requires a trip to Oklahoma City to attend a convention. She asked if we could watch her house for the duration, about three days. She needs us to watch her dog, Brutus, too. I told her we could do it no problem. Is that all right with you?"

"So, do we get to live in her house for three days? How big is it?"

"Five bedrooms, four-and-a half baths."

The husky leaned back in his chair, hooting and clapping like a child on a field trip. "Awesome! We get to have some ROOM for once!"

"You don't like our place?"

"I didn't mean it like that. I love our place, it's just...five bedrooms!" Kennedy held up his palm, fingers spread, for emphasis.

"What, are we going to sleep in a different bedroom every night? It's not that big of a deal, puppy."

"Oh? Didn't you say we were going to have to watch her dog, too?"

"Yeah, Brutus. Don't worry about him; he's a sweetheart. Nothin' to it. Besides, he'll probably wear us out completely."

Kennedy's head cocked. "Have you housesat for Mrs. Lister before?"

"No, but since I've gotten to know her she's called me from work every now and again, saying she's late and asking if I could feed Brutus or take him on walks. He's got a lot of energy but I think you'll be able to handle him." Boomer stood and cleared the dishes before the husky could, once again prompting him to pout.

"Why are you always doing this?" he asked, a bit hurt.

"Doing what, clearing the dishes?"

"Yeah."

"Because I love you, and I like doing it. Do I need a better reason?"

Kennedy stood and drank the last of his orange juice, brought the empty glass over to the sink and set it in. He then turned and hugged the dingo tightly, nuzzling underneath his chin. When they broke the embrace, he muttered, "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now go get dressed and leave, before you're late for school. Scoot!" He shooed the husky up the stairs, and a few minutes later out the door, giving him barely enough time to snatch up his bookbag and jacket. The dingo watched him go, enjoying the wonderful view of Kennedy's backside underneath that always-raised tail of his.

* * *

"Do you want to take your car or mine?" Boomer yelled from the kitchen.

Kennedy pulled on a T-shirt and replied, "Let's take yours. I don't feel like driving." He really meant he was too excited to drive and afraid of getting into an accident.

Since he had moved in with Boomer, there had been nothing exciting (nothing else, at least) in his life. The dingo took up what time he had away from school, and that was fine, but he felt a little lost and lonely, without direction. He had come to think moving to the Lister home for the next few days would be something of a head-clearer and inspiration, if not just a good vacation from their cozy but cramped space for two. And he was always ready to entertain the notion that anything could suddenly set him free from his inhibitions.

His one class over for the day, the husky had come home to pack and was putting the finishing touches on his toiletries when Boomer yelled from down the hallway.

"Hurry up and get the rest of your things down here or we're going to be late. Again."

Kennedy grumbled but knew Boomer was right. Anal-retentive and punctual, he hated to be late to any occasion, especially if said occasion had a specific starting time. "Coming!" he yelled, throwing a few more random objects from his bathroom into the bag and, grabbing everything in both hands, dragged it all down to the front door.

"It's three days, puppy, not a month. You don't even wear half that stuff when you're here."

"It's not all clothes. Remember, I have to bring my toys."

Boomer stared at his mate for a moment before the true meaning of Kennedy's words struck him. "You expect me to take you to a friend's house to look over her things, and have sex while we're there?"

"Um...yeah," the husky replied matter-of-factly.

"You're right," conceded the dingo. "I can't go that long either. Come on." The two put their things in Boomer's yellow Jeep Wrangler and plopped into the front seats.

The drive to the Lister house was short, only about ten minutes, but nonetheless Boomer got the chance to see his boyfriend's reaction to the passing scenery. Whereas their apartment was located in a decent but crowded area of town, Mrs. Lister lived across a river and in a secluded development bordered by mature trees. Apartments gave way to fields alive with wildflowers, and soon they traveled up and over a hill into an old shady neighborhood. Tudor-style houses bordered a street which was split down the middle with a line of maple trees and gas-style streetlamps reminiscent of the early days of electricity.

Since there were no doors on the Wrangler, Kennedy was straining at his seatbelt watching the majestic homes pass by. "How old are these?"

"I didn't know you were interested in architecture," Boomer mused.

The husky turned and smiled. "There's still some things you don't know about me. I don't know everything about you, do I?"

"No, I'm not that boring. I still have my secrets. These were all built between 1901 and 1927, I believe Julie told me. You saw that point back there, that creek where that long concrete fence ran up against the road?" Kennedy nodded. "These houses were all alone up here until just recently, when a landowner sold property rights to some bigwig developer in town. That's where you get the eighty-plus-year gap in architecture."

"Wow," was the only thing the husky could say, and he said it again...this time elongated and with awe as they pulled into a wide brick driveway and up to the triple garage of the Lister home. The two-story Tudor sprawled regally amid lush landscaping and brick walkways; the house proper veered from the garage at a twenty-degree angle. The roof dipped and peaked at hazardous angles under cedar shingles which had just the right amount of moss to indicate age, and one entire wall was covered in clinging vines. It looked perfectly clean and unkempt at the same time.

As Boomer killed the engine, two sounds could be heard: the slow squeak of the heavy front door as Julie Lister came out to meet the two canines, and loud barking from the backyard. Kennedy tried to look past the high wooden gate attached to the garage but could see nothing.

"G'day, Boomer," said Julie, a tigress who was wearing a bright red business suit and looked very healthy for her age.

"Hey, lady, you can't use that. It's copyrighted property of Australia. You have to pay me now," said the dingo.

"I'll do no such thing, Gregory," Julie retorted with good-humored venom. She passed Boomer and approached the husky, hand ready. "You must be Kennedy. I've heard very good things from your man here. He's quite taken with you."

The husky blushed and shook the proffered hand. "Thank you, ma'am. Very pleased to meet you, Mrs. Lister."

"Julie, please."

"Okay, Julie."

Boomer butted in. "I don't know what he's more pleased about: meeting you or getting to stay in your house for half a week." Kennedy glared at him, but he continued nonetheless: "Anyway, shall we get our things out and move into the house?"

"Absolutely," said Julie. "You'll be staying in the second guest room. It's the bigger of the two, through the foyer and up the stairs, last bedroom on the right." Kennedy had already unloaded the bags while they were talking, so Boomer picked his up and they moved quickly to the house.

The interior was quite a bit more organized-looking than the exterior. Two front doors gave onto a large sunlit foyer, which was flanked on both sides by curved staircases. Through the arch made by the staircases was the kitchen which, from what Kennedy could see, had two islands, a bar and plenty of counters and storage. Up the left staircase they climbed, over darkly-stained oak and onto the plush maroon carpeting that lined the upper hallway (which had to be at least twice the width of any normal hallway).

The husky had trouble keeping his attention on walking as they entered their bedroom. It was warm and inviting, painted a light rose with stripes of lighter color on the wall facing a row of floor-to-ceiling windows that gave onto a widow's walk over the backyard. A bathroom was through another arch, completely integrated into the bedroom itself. But the first thing Kennedy saw, and the thing he couldn't get off his mind, was the gigantic bed against the striped wall. It had to be eight feet by ten feet, much larger than even the biggest he'd ever come across.

Julie picked up on the husky's stare and piped up: "It's a Super California Queen. I had it shipped from Sacramento. It's been widened and lengthened so my guests can sleep in comfort. Do you like it?"

"I'm suppressing a very strong urge to jump on that thing and roll around right now," mused Kennedy, and the tigress merely nodded.

"Feel free; it's practically indestructible." There was a brief moment of indecision, but the husky settled for sitting on one corner and bouncing a little.

Looking at her watch, as she had been doing constantly ever since she had opened the door to greet them, Julie said, "I'm afraid I don't have any time to show you around, Kennedy. But Boomer knows the place inside and out; I think he can give you the tour."

"Sure thing, ma'am. You go on and have a nice time at your convention."

"Thank you, both of you. I'll see you in a few days. I'll call when I'm on my way back." The tigress bent to Boomer and kissed him lightly, European-style, on both cheeks. She then did the same to Kennedy, who blushed again. "Be careful, you two. Don't do anything I wouldn't do," she said as she walked through the doorway.

"Well, that pretty much leaves us open," said the dingo.

"I heard that, you naughty boy!" came from the hallway. The two canines listened to her high heels click down the staircase, clitter along the tile in the foyer, and then the echoing slam of the front door. A few seconds later the V-12 engine of her Mercedes-Benz SL600 roared to life, and she was off down the driveway and into the street.

Once the noise had died, Boomer came over and sat down beside Kennedy, who was now sitting cross-legged on the bed. Putting an arm around the husky's middle, he asked, "So, what do you think?"

Kennedy stared upward at the fifteen-foot vaulted ceiling. The only thing he could think to say was, "I feel so poor."

"We're not poor. We're not even close to poor, and you know it."

The husky lay back, rolling on one side to face his mate. "Look at this, Boomer! This lady's got everything! A humongous house, an eighty-thousand-dollar car, a backyard..." He made hand gestures to indicate he could continue, but there was no need.

"Actually," replied the dingo, "her car cost closer to one hundred thirty-five thousand dollars."

Kennedy scowled, something his roundish, fluffy face usually wouldn't allow. "You're not helping."

"Hon, Julie also has a husband; three children, two of whom are grown; a dog; and a career that pays very well and requires her to entertain guests quite often. Of course she's going to need a large house for all that. Plus she's a Realtor...she knows the ins and outs of the business and probably got an incredible deal on this place."

"I suppose you're right."

"Besides, you don't really need all this, do you?"

Kennedy sighed. "No, not really. Forgive me for having big eyes."

"No big eyes, puppy. Just big dreams. You'll get there someday. Maybe not here, in a house like this, but you'll be happy. You'll see."

"Thanks," said the husky, and he kisslicked the dingo's snout.

"Oh, stop being all mushy. You know I love ya. Don't you want to see the rest of the property?" Kennedy nodded, and they left their unpacked things to explore.

Boomer knew the Lister home as if it were his own. He explained that while he had been watching Brutus one day, he had decided to do a little cleaning since he had the extra time. After dusting, vacuuming and doing laundry he had come to know the house fairly well. The dingo led Kennedy through doors and hallways, showing him the bedrooms, den, entertainment center, and bathroom after bathroom. They ended up in the kitchen, a mass of stainless steel and brick-colored tile.

"You hungry?" asked Boomer, but Kennedy shook his head. The husky had finally gotten to make breakfast that morning, and he had cooked up a storm. It was approaching noon but neither canine had an appetite.

"You have to let me cook in this kitchen, Boomer," Kennedy insisted, running his claws over the deep stainless-steel sink. "I could make up a casserole like you would never...oh, my God."

"What?" asked the dingo, looking around for trouble. Kennedy was up on his toes, face pressed to the window above the backsplash behind the sink. He made little clouds on the glass as he panted. Suddenly he turned and ran around the island, the claws on his feet clicking over the tile, and practically knocked the dingo over on his way out the sliding-glass door which led to the back patio.

"How come you didn't tell me about this?" the husky cried from outside. Boomer followed his voice and walked out to the patio to see what all the fuss was about. He breathed a little sigh of relief when he realized it was only the pool which had excited Kennedy so much. A typical kidney shape, it was much larger than an ordinary pool because the acre of yard behind Julie Lister's house allowed for some expansion. It sparkled clean and blue in the sun, some parts of it in shadows cast by the few gigantic trees scattered around the otherwise broad expanse of Kentucky bluegrass.

"You never asked."

"Why would I have thought to ask about a freaking pool?" Kennedy continued, but any answer Boomer could have supplied was cut off abruptly by a series of loud barks from behind the garage. The dingo strode quickly across the lawn and disappeared behind the angled wall. The barking elevated briefly, then stopped altogether. Kennedy heard muffled speech, followed by a clanking of metal on metal. The husky had just started to follow his mate when a flash of fur erupted from around the wall.

"Whoa!" shouted Kennedy as the form rushed past him and out beyond the pool. He turned to see a gigantic Great Dane loping and panting as he ran circles around the entire backyard, sending up divots of grass under large paws. He expertly darted around Boomer as the dingo walked leisurely back to the husky, who stood stock-still, just watching the big feral dog.

Brutus lapped the two a few more times before making a ninety-degree turn directly into the pool. Water sprayed everywhere; mostly all over Kennedy, who stood just on the other side of where Brutus had jumped.

"Ahh, Jesus!" the husky exclaimed, flinging his hands over his soaked shirt and shorts as Boomer erupted into a fit of raucous laughter. Brutus paddled to the shallow end of the pool, emerged by use of underwater stairs, and walked casually all the way to Kennedy's feet before shaking himself dry. Again the husky swore and stepped back, only to catch his heel on a loose brick and tumble onto his back in the grass. The dingo tried to act like he wanted to help, but he was laughing too hard to say anything.

Brutus sauntered over to the poor drenched husky, whose fur was now matted flat to his body, making him look twenty pounds lighter. The big fawn-colored dog planted his front paws on Kennedy's stomach and plopped down, looking at him with an expression on his muzzle akin to a smile.

"This is Brutus," said Boomer between breaths as he walked over, "and I think he likes you already."

"Yeah, thanks for ruining my clothes, dumbass," said Kennedy to the still-smiling Dane.

"I don't think anything's going to happen to your clothes. They've been washed before, haven't they?"

"That won't stop them from smelling like chlorine."

"We'll just wash them, then," said the dingo, giving Brutus' head a few skritches. The dog stood up, effectively pushing the air out of Kennedy's lungs, and immediately jumped up on Boomer's leg and proceeded to hump it. The husky sat up and regained his breath as the dingo pushed Brutus down again with an effort. Though rejected quickly, the Dane still had a good inch exposed when he came back down to all fours.

"He likes you, too," said Kennedy sarcastically.

"Oh quit it, you. Dogs do that to anybody whose scent they recognize. He's happy to see me, and no, that's not a banana in his pocket."

Kennedy finally got to his feet and stood, arms and legs spread as if his wet clothes carried a disease. "I'm going to get out of these and put them in the wash."

"That can wait," said Boomer. "Since we're already out here by the pool, why don't you and I have a swim? The thing's heated, so I don't think it'll be too cold."

"I didn't bring my swimsuit. You didn't tell me I needed one."

"But you don't need one," replied the dingo, a sly smile creeping up the corners of his lips.

Kennedy's ears perked straight up. "You want me to strip out here?" Brutus paced at the canines' feet expectantly.

"There's a reason this yard is bordered by ten-foot fences on three sides and underbrush on a fourth."

"She doesn't-"

"She does."

An eyebrow raised. "How do you know all of this about Mrs. Lister?"

"I asked a simple question and she gave me an honest answer. Isn't that noble of her?"

"It's certainly open," the husky allowed.

"Come on and get these clothes off before you get sick," said the dingo, hooking his fingers underneath Kennedy's shirt and pulling. It came off and over his arms, taking fur against the grain with it. The husky patted himself down and started to unbutton his shorts, watching Boomer do the same. He couldn't help but feel embarrassed, that same feeling he used to get in the locker rooms at school...on camping trips with the Boy Scouts...the first time he let the dingo see him nude. He was surprised to see his pink head poking out when he managed to strip off the khaki shorts and throw them onto a nearby chaise-longue.

"Do you know how handsome you look in natural sunlight?" asked Boomer, whose fur had taken on a warm glow as the shadows of leaves mottled his upper torso.

"No, not really. But I know I don't feel entirely comfortable with this."

Boomer walked over to Kennedy and hugged him close. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. Nobody's going to see us. It's not against the law to be nude in your own private backyard. You're already hard," he said as a hand reached down to slide his sheath a bit. Kennedy moaned and looked beyond Boomer's shoulder to the pool, invitingly cool-looking in the midday sun. He also saw Brutus, who had stopped to sit on his haunches and was panting away, his little inch-long boner bobbing underneath his belly.

"The dog's watching us."

Boomer turned around, saw Brutus and chuckled. "You don't like being an exhibitionist?" Then, whispered into his ear: "He's just a dog. He doesn't really care."

The husky thought about arguing with his mate, but saw the futility in it. They were already both down to the fur, he was beginning to sweat from the growing heat, and a swim sounded too good to pass up. Whether or not he believed the Dane was watching them intentionally was moot, he supposed; Brutus looked ready for a nap anyway. The feral dog yawned as if to prove the point.

Kennedy let Boomer lead him to the edge of the pool, where he unceremoniously shoved the husky into the water. The dingo followed, and after a bout of splashing the two dived and swam playfully, enjoying the sunshine, their secluded freedom and each other. Kennedy swam easily, being more buoyant, but Boomer was faster and darted around, kicking under and teasing between the big husky's legs whenever he got the chance. All Kennedy could do was try to cover himself up or push the dingo away, but eventually he was too worked up and out of breath to care.

The dingo's head popped up between his spread thighs as he floated, and Boomer licked under his balls, almost causing him to exhale and sink.

"What are you trying to do, drown me?"

"Nope, just making you all excited. You ever get sucked off in a pool before?"

"Do I look like the kind of person to do that sort of thing?" asked the husky.

"Not yet," replied the dingo, leaning on Kennedy's knees so his cock angled down, then swallowed the whole thing, pushing his sheath over the rest of his knot. First the only sensation was his lower half sinking into the pool, but soon his member warmed and swelled in the expert dingo's muzzle. He tread water furiously, trying to keep above the surface while watching the light brown ripple that was his mate attached to his groin and kicking. A hand made its way around his ass and searched for his tailhole, stroking its puckered tight surface.

After about a minute of slow underwater suckling, Boomer came up for air, shaking his head and spraying droplets all around the otherwise placid surface of the pool.

"So...how...was that?" he panted, his muzzle replaced by a constantly-moving fist over the huskycock.

"You sure can hold your breath for a long time."

"Yeah...I learned to do that about the same time I lost my gag reflex," said the dingo, pulling Kennedy toward the shallow end by his penis. "Let's get you in the sun so you can dry off." They stepped out and padded, dripping profusely, to a line of white chaises-longues set near the edge of the stone deck that lined the pool. Kennedy's member was still hard, and his eyes darted from Boomer, who was also hard but not quite unsheathed, to Brutus, who had been dozing earlier but stared at the two aroused canines as they exited the water. Now he stood up and loped toward them.

Boomer motioned for the husky to lay down and Kennedy complied, spreading his bulk out on the warm white wood now that he wasn't the least bit self-conscious. His average-sized cock throbbed lazily and hung off to the left a bit, water and his own secretions making its reddish surface shine. He stroked it a few times, making himself comfortable. Boomer now stood over him, blocking his sun.

"Aren't you going to get a couple of towels from the house?" the husky asked.

"I thought we could air-dry here in the sun."

"But I'm soaked! Do you know how long it'll take with fur like mine? I know yours is nice and thin and shorter, but I take forever to dry."

"Then just lay in the sun until you do dry," said Boomer, his voice even and patient and never annoyed. This was the voice of a dingo who had something up his sleeve. He knew his mate too well to think otherwise, so he didn't argue the issue. Instead he closed his eyes, watched the little orange stars behind his eyelids and waited for the inevitable.

Boomer's shadow moved over his face, turning the orange to green. The husky shivered in expectation of the unknown, but surprised himself by not jerking his foot away when it was held by the dingo's hands. Instead he murred and spread his legs, offering himself up to the massage. Boomer's fingers moved to the top of his foot, up and over his heel and back down to the callused pads which often caused him pain when standing in long lines. His toes were spread apart, the claws unsheathed and rubbed thoroughly. But the best part was when the dingo pressed his thumbs into his high arches, making him squeal in pain but relieving the knots there.

"I have a lotion that will clear these cracks up in no time," mumbled Boomer as he switched feet.

"Lotions are greasy," replied the husky defensively but without much force. The sun was doing a good job on making him apathetic to any argument. As long as Boomer kept up the attention on his feet, he didn't care what they talked about. He breathed in deeply, inhaling air made humid by his slowly-drying body.

The dingo treated Kennedy's other foot in exactly the same order to ease his muscles and calluses into submission in the least difficult way possible. When the husky thought he was done, he rolled his ankles, amazed by the new range of motion they had.

"That was good, Boomer," he said, but there was no response. Instead he felt something else...something he was entirely unprepared for. Something warm and textured was dragged along the bottom of his foot, covering the pads and tickling a little along their edges. When it was removed, the wetness he felt confirmed that the dingo had just licked him. And he liked it.

Wasting no time when he saw Kennedy's reaction, Boomer went down again with his whole muzzle this time, running his long tongue, the tongue that had taught the husky how to deep-throat, down the space of fur between the footpad and each of his toepads. Kennedy tried not to curl his toes and gasped, gripping the sides of the chaise-longue at the sensation. He couldn't believe Boomer was doing this...he usually shied away from any footplay because he thought they were dirty and smelly. Maybe the chlorine of the pool had taken care of that. Whatever it was, he knew he didn't want the dingo to stop.

Boomer licked and caressed with his tongue and teeth, running his fangs over the tops and bottoms of the husky's toes, down the sides of his feet, nipping his heels. He nibbled over Kennedy's black claws, pushing the cuticles back and running the surfaces of his teeth over them, inciting open-mouthed moans from the chubby husky. After he had made sure each claw was nice and manicured, Boomer then took each toe into his muzzle, suckling on them, bobbing his head gently over their surfaces. One final pass made sure all the blue-grey fur was going in the right direction and he let the husky's feet down...but not for long.

Kennedy had just let his guard down enough so that when he felt the tongue leave his feet and slide up the inside of his left leg, he couldn't help but cry out.

"Ohhhhhforgodssake..." Boomer was encouraged and continued on to his final destination. Slowly he climbed onto the chair between the husky's ever-spreading legs, licking the whole way and pushing more fur out of place. He made long, slow passes up and down, then went into a series of short lappings that threatened to make Kennedy wrap his legs around the dingo's neck and squish the life out of him. Somehow, he held back and succeeded in lifting his rear into the air to give Boomer better access...and in doing so fell into the dingo's final trap.

After one long, final lick up the husky's thigh, Boomer skipped the remaining few inches and dove right into the patch of short, soft white fur surrounding Kennedy's hidden tailhole. The reaction was immediate: a long, high-pitched sigh of excited, happy surprise as the husky finally relaxed, opening up the rest of the way to expose his most private area to his mate.

Kennedy could not believe what was happening to him. He knew what was going on: Boomer had started giving him a muzzlejob in the pool, then continued by tonguebathing his feet, and now he was beginning to rim him...one kinky thing after another. His hand went directly to his resurging erection as Boomer's tongue entered him, warm and dexterous and eager.

Deciding to rim the husky had been something of a spur-of-the-moment decision: Boomer had been planning on just giving Kennedy a tease with his mouth, but as he got nearer that irresistible pink pucker, innocent and tight and invitingly clean after being in the pool, he couldn't resist. Kennedy hadn't seemed to mind one bit, as his spread-eagle pose indicated. He had opened right up, too; half of his tongue lapped inside the husky. White-furred balls bounced against the top of his nose, the smell of the pool and Kennedy's own musk driving him onward and inward. He pushed even more under the husky's knees, aiming for maximum penetration.

From the side of his vision the dingo saw movement and turned as far as he could to see what it was. Brutus had been sitting again and was now sauntering over to see what kind of game his two-legged friends were playing. When he tried to stick his nose in next to Boomer's, the dingo told him to sit with a brief hand signal. The Dane obeyed immediately and settled for being a spectator. Boomer, however, focused all his efforts back on his boyfriend, kneading the meaty thighs and coaxing his ring looser.

Kennedy was in heaven. Usually he considered this kind of activity to be base and dirty; he didn't think anyone but a severe sub would ever want to put his tongue in a place like that. At the moment, though, he couldn't have cared less; his tailhole felt warm and wet and relaxed. Shivers ran through his cock and up his spine as he pawed himself. The pads on his fingers were abnormally slick; the husky usually didn't pre unless someone else was stimulating him. He supposed a rimjob would count for that just fine.

Another fact that he was finding added to the experience: Kennedy felt like he was truly loved and trusted to have such an intimate act done upon him. It made him feel owned, and although he had never thought of it that way before, he did harbor a certain envy of Brutus. As he lay there, legs up and fully in the power of the dingo's muzzle, he felt very much the coddled pet.

But suddenly that wonderful tongue disappeared, and his legs began to lower. Kennedy whimpered loudly, finding it much more appropriate than the four-letter words his higher brain told him to say. It was only a mere two seconds before his anus was attacked anew, the tongue penetrating even deeper, the dingo's nose much colder than before. At the same time Boomer's hand crawled up to his cock and pulled it down and between his legs, something that set his nerves on fire. It simulated the feel of a tie and as its length was stroked slowly Kennedy felt his orgasm building already. He had no idea how the dingo was rimming and pawing him at the same time, but he knew he didn't want it to stop...not this close.

As the husky neared his apex the attention paid to him varied between his worked-over tailhole and the underside of his rapidly swelling member, which now leaked a steady stream of precum down onto the busy tongue below. Kennedy ventured a quick glance downward, but all he could see over his belly was a wagging dingo-tail and a pair of twitching ears.

"Boomer, I'm gonna come!" he managed, thrusting toward the end of the chair to get as much tongue as possible. A playful growl was accompanied by two sets of fangs on his balls and tailbase, and the hand on his erection sped up and pumped hard. Kennedy's toes curled and clawed at the air; he held his breath and his load as long as he could, then:

"RAWRF!!!" His voice and cock exploded at the same time. The husky could not tell how much he was shooting, but from the way his stomach tensed up and spasmed he guessed that Boomer was getting a healthy dose of cum on his head. Kennedy writhed a few more times when the dingo increased his grip and drug his fist teasingly over his head, then collapsed his arched back as the last of his coital energy dissipated. Then everything was still; most notable was the fact that his tailhole was now sparkling clean, but the licking had stopped altogether.

Boomer's head appeared between Kennedy's legs as he hilted the shrinking huskycock one last time to clean up any remaining semen, licked his lips and said, "I take it you liked that?" He offered a hand to his mate, who pulled himself up to lean over the edge of the chaise-longue.

"That felt better than the toy!" the husky exclaimed, and hugged the dingo tight around the chest, noting that his head was oddly clean and dry. Boomer must have pulled away at the last moment. "It was different."

"Different? How so?"

"I wouldn't exactly know how to explain it, Boomer. I felt vulnerable and safe at the same time. Kind of like a pet. Something like that you don't just do to somebody. You do it for them. It got me off really hard. Thank you."

The dingo was grinning from ear to ear, having known what Kennedy would say. "Don't expect that from me all the time, mind you. Only if I'm sure you're one hundred percent clean. Or if I'm incredibly horny, either one."

Kennedy bent down and licked the dingo's black member, halfway unsheathed and fully swollen around the knot. Through the chlorine he could smell Boomer's musk and the lingering odor of old cum around the stretched furry opening. "That must be uncomfortable. I really should repay you."

Soft, erotic murring was interrupted by, "How about you cook us a nice, big dinner in that kitchen. You wanted to anyway, didn't you?" The dingo took hold of himself and unsheathed his knot, almost to its full three inches, outlined with engorged veins. The resultant stream of pre ran easily down to his short pubic fur, and he used it to lubricate his pumping hand.

"Yay!" shouted the husky, pouncing Boomer (as much as he could pounce from a sitting position) and almost shoving him off the chair. "I'll go get pots and pans out right now; I know exactly what I'm making for you! Have fun with that," he said, pointing to Boomer's flying hand and dwindling concentration on reality. The husky trotted off to the back of the house, completely unaware that the dingo was already shooting streams of hot white fluid all over his chest, just from seeing him run, his tail bouncing up and down as happily as the rest of him.

Boomer lay back and licked his hand, turning just in time to see the face of Brutus hover into view. As the dingo lay on his side, squeezing the last of his load from cock to hand to mouth, he could see from his expression and half-erection that the Dane didn't mind what he saw one bit. Scratching the dog's head between the ears, the dingo smiled and breathed in the clean air.

"Enjoy yourself?"

* * *

The little ovals were filled in with No. 2 graphite as fast as Kennedy could read the questions. His AP Chemistry II midterm was going by as smooth as glass, unlike his quarterly exam, which he had not even finished. The husky was in an exceptionally good mood and clear state of mind today, and he attributed it to Boomer and their vacation at the Lister home. He didn't think it was purely because of what the dingo had done to him, not as much as the change of pace the move had afforded them both.

After a big dinner and a long, hot shower, both canines had been too tired to even watch "Law & Order" together, one of the only television shows they both agreed were worth paying attention to. Instead they had settled for some quick studying by Kennedy, followed by cuddling and falling asleep locked in each other's arms. When the husky awoke this morning from a dreamless sleep he had felt unusually energized.

He slammed his pencil down on the desk, whispering, "Done!" triumphantly to himself. He still had twenty-five minutes of class left, but he could leave now since there was nothing scheduled but the midterm today. The husky walked down to the professor's desk and slid his answer sheet and test booklet into their respective piles.

"Finished already?" asked Professor Morgan, his voice and face lined with skepticism.

"Yes, sir," replied Kennedy self-assuredly.

Morgan returned to the book he was reading and said, without much confidence, "Let's hope your grade proves much better than the time spent on the test indicates."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that," the husky said and walked out a side door without waiting for an answer. He had other things on his mind.

He walked with purpose through campus to the parking garage, got into Boomer's Wrangler and exited the structure, paying his ticket at the tollgate. He made his way off campus and straight to the nearest florist. Kennedy had realized he hadn't really thanked Boomer for all he'd done, from loving him to moving in to the little things like letting him cook once in a while. He wanted to give him something more than a sexual pick-me-up, and the thought of giving the dingo a nice big bouquet of flowers didn't occur to him to be girly in the least. In fact, the husky considered such things very romantic, no matter what gender gave or received the gift.

The florist was very helpful...that is, after she recovered from his answer to her question, "Is this going to be a gift for your mother or a girlfriend, or wife?" A deep discussion had ensued about just what were the right flowers to give to a boyfriend "because," and at last a simple bouquet of one dozen red roses had been picked, snipped, arranged and watered. The husky paid and placed the flowers with the utmost of care in the passenger seat of the Jeep, driving slowly all the way home. They would have to go back to the apartment later on to get Kennedy's Saturn so Boomer could have his vehicle back.

Singing along with the radio and letting the wind whip his fur into a frenzy, the husky drove at a leisurely pace but nonetheless found the trip shorter than he would have expected. Shouldering his backpack and managing to keep a hold on the roses with the same hand, Kennedy made his way to the front door, opening it with the care of a safecracker. He wanted so much to surprise his mate, something the dingo almost always spoiled some way or another.

Kennedy heard noises from the television in the upstairs entertainment room and surmised Boomer was relaxing after work. Miraculously, the wooden staircase made no sound as he mounted it and went to the bedroom to drop off his heavy bag. He turned, bouquet in hand and ready for presentation, and tiptoed down the plush hallway to the entertainment room. His heart beat shallowly in his throat and temples, making his scalp itch as little drops of sweat began to form on his brow. The husky counted to himself: one...two...three...

The television was off.

He was just going to sneak up behind Boomer and give him a big hug, depositing the flowers in his lap, but his plans were shot down when he saw the real show in the middle of the room. All the pillows from the couch and chairs were scattered over the floor, providing a soft surface for one set of knees and one set of four paws, which belonged to a certain dingo...and a certain Great Dane.

Kennedy found it suddenly difficult to breathe, and the heart that had felt to be in his throat now sunk to the deepest pits of his bowels. He stood, muzzle slack and legs shaking, as he watched his boyfriend rape Julie Lister's giant dog No, no...rape was not being committed here, he thought to himself. The look of snarling ecstasy on the Dane's face indicated Brutus was, in fact, enjoying himself very thoroughly. That, plus his already oozing and knotted member.

It was much more than he expected. Then again, Kennedy hadn't been expecting his mate to be coupling with a feral dog at all. The husky had visited a few Websites with mild interest brought on by locker room interchanges from his high school buddies, but had dismissed it as immoral and a desperate move by those who couldn't-or wouldn't-try with other furs. That had been years ago, long forgotten; seeing it here, played out less than six feet in front of him, had a much different impact.

Brutus stood shaking, muscles flexed, his paws buried within deep green velvet pillows. Boomer's face worked through a plethora of expressions, from calm contemplation to grimacing pain to an open-mouthed, tongue-lolling state of physical bliss. The dingo's tail, normally bushy and well-groomed, hung flaccidly behind his panting form as he covered the sweaty beast below him. Boomer's entire body was disheveled as if after a fight, matted and dripping with perspiration; his ears lay tight back against his skull. Brutus' chest rose and fell, rose and fell, lifting his swollen penis only to let it go again, each time sending drops of clear precum onto the pillows. Its surface was lined noticeably with blood. The dingo's legs were spread inside the dog's, giving him more room as his hips jerked slightly but made no large movements while he flooded Brutus' insides. A closer look revealed a flash of darkness between the two canines' loins, undoubtedly the only part of Boomer's cock not surrounded by tailhole. Brutus, seemingly unaware of the gravity of the situation, turned to look at the husky as if to say, "I can't believe you don't want to be a part of this."

Words escaped Kennedy's mind, as did any rational attempt to make sense of what he was seeing. The only part of him that seemed to know what was going on quickly made its turgid presence known behind the husky's shorts. Before he knew his grip had loosened, the roses fell from his hand and to the floor, their plastic wrapping crinkling loudly. Drawn out of his sex-driven trance, Boomer's head snapped in the direction of the sound and his half-lidded eyes met the husky's grey-green ones. His hips, however, did not stop their constant jerk-thrusts into Brutus.

"Oh..." was all Boomer could say before the word melted into a moan as the Dane snuffled and backed into him, furthering an already drawn-out orgasm. Kennedy snuck a glance at the Brutus' tailhole and saw it was actually dripping with dingocum. His hand unconsciously moved to the now-tight material of his fly and he groped there, wondering why this excited him so much but not minding at the same time. All he knew was he felt like he could do anything with the sexual power he was feeling. Just the sight of his mate, in such a position of pleasurable domination, made him wish he could trade places with the feral dog.

Boomer tried once again to talk. "I...didn't hear you...come in."

"I wanted to surprise you," muttered the husky, his hand deftly undoing the button and zipper on his khakis, which split open and gave his plump sheath a little room to breathe. He bent over. "I brought you flowers," he continued, setting the bouquet on the back of the leather couch which separated the husky from the mated pair in front of the television. The sweet smell of roses tickled his nose fleetingly and evaporated, leaving only the strong musky odor of wet fur and testosterone in the air. Kennedy was vaguely aware that he could smell his own cock.

The husky began to walk around the couch. He moved slowly and purposefully, as if some sudden gesture would wake him from what was so wild and exotic it could only be a dream. His left hand never released its grip on his sheath, which now poked through his white briefs and was being stroked to erection.

Watching his mate's dazed state, Boomer didn't know exactly what to make of the situation. Kennedy was being unusually hard to read, but from his actions things were becoming clearer: the husky had seen something that had sparked a long-repressed desire for a certain kink that he may or may not have even known sat, untouched, within the confines of his subconscious. As these thoughts registered in the back of his mind, Brutus adjusted his stance again; shivers ran the length of his body and what he was really thinking amounted to He looks so innocent like that, I wonder what he's gonna do when he gets over here?

"Please don't be angry with me," started the dingo.

"Holy shit, Boomer, this is so hot and I don't even know why. I gotta come. I mean, right now." The husky skirted the couch and fell to his knees right in front of the tied canines, his full length out and dry-pawed by its owner. Kennedy moved in the fast, feathery motion which was the only way to get him off without lubrication. He leaned back against the leather and just looked, little sounds coming through his nostrils.

There were a few minutes that seemed frozen in time, when no one moved or spoke, save for one fur's flying hand and another's pulsing cock. At last Kennedy stopped and said, as if in a trance, "I have an idea." He left his leaking shaft and shifted onto his belly almost right underneath Brutus' dripping member. From the relatively clean pillows on the floor, the husky knew the Dane hadn't yet released. He thought he knew what would get the dog off fast...even faster since he was already in such a heightened state of arousal.

Kennedy grabbed Brutus' huge knot and began running his clawtips over its surface, paying special attention to where it connected with his stretched sheath. There was no hesitation, no second thoughts; he just reached out and touched the cock of an animal. For some reason, this was a very sensitive spot, just like on Boomer and himself. It was also the same reason Kennedy was trying to prepare with the toy; for Boomer to climax he would have to literally tie with the husky plus another inch or two beyond to reach the only spot that would bring him over.

"Hey...no, oh you bastard what're you doing?" gasped Boomer, gritting his teeth and trying not to move behind Brutus at all. As the feral humped the air and Kennedy's fingers, his hole clenched tightly around the dingo's ebony member, milking the seed from him.

"I'm helping," was all the husky said, and gripped harder, pinching fingers together like a pipe wrench and turning around the Dane's flesh. Boomer hunched forward involuntarily, taking the Dane with him, who strained to remain on all four paws. After he got used to the masturbation and settled down, Brutus was finally able to stay still, save for some slow thrusts back onto Boomer again.

Only a few minutes passed before Brutus' breathing shallowed out and he lifted his head up. Boomer, working up to a second climax now that his temporary bitch was milking him dry again, wrapped his front paws around the Dane's ribcage and started nibbling on his scruff, gaining snarls and moans (at least as much as a feral dog can moan) in response.

Boomer's arms trembled from supporting his weight for so long, but there wasn't much he could do about it. Kennedy continued a steady stroke-squeeze-claw motion until he felt the flesh in his hand swell. Brutus grunted; his lower torso seemed to suck in on itself and after a ragged breath he finally opened his muzzle and let go. The husky felt cum shoot under his fingers and saw the result a split-second later. Just like a dog, he thought, watching long thin ropes of semen coat the feral's chest and pillows below. Boomer held his breath through another silent, not-as-strong orgasm until there was nothing more he could offer and relaxed, giving in to exhaustion and lowering to his elbows on the strong furry back.

Having finished half of his task, Kennedy went back to his own needs, which were now leaking and staining his shorts. Brutus continued to pump his cock up and down, spraying his belly and anywhere else he happened to be aiming. Nothing was left to do so both he and the dingo watched with expectant interest as the husky pawed himself, a simultaneous exhibitionist and voyeur. Kennedy acted as if in a dream; the past few minutes had felt like an out-of-body experience. He didn't believe his mate was pumping his loins into the backside of an animal, couldn't believe he had just pawed off that same animal while Boomer orgasmed on the Great Dane's back, had no idea how the sight excited him so much that his erection had called for immediate attention.

His hand was perseverant, stroking the tapered head and coaxing him up through levels of pleasure. As the husky concentrated, his whole body rising and falling every time he let out a whoosh of air and sucked in another one, his left hand reached up...the fingers extended...and as the dingo followed with his eyes he touched Boomer just behind his ear, eliciting a sharp whimper and another jerk from the feral dog. The black claw dragged a thin line over the dingo's shoulder, making a deep trail in the wet fur, tweaking muscles as it went along his shoulder, down the side of his ribs and over his thigh. Boomer's cock jumped, still too big to withdraw, still depositing seed deep within his feral lover.

Brutus was beginning to get a bit antsy, dancing on his feet and trying to disconnect himself. Boomer tried to hold the dog's legs but to no avail. The dingo tried to raise one leg over the Dane's back and eventually succeeded, giving Kennedy a nice view of two sets of furry balls. Immediately after he was facing away, though, the Dane tried again to pull off of Boomer, who gasped and then screamed at the pain. The husky, in a moment of clarity amid his rising lust, thought he should do something to help his mate out but quickly dismissed the thought when he remembered there was really nothing he could do; Brutus seemed to be the one in control of the situation. He watched, pawing harder, as the Dane's abused hole slowly dilated around the mound of dingocock within. Unable to keep Brutus still, Boomer held his sheath tightly to minimize the pain he felt.

Kennedy's balls drew up tight against the base of his shaft; he felt it coming like a tidal wave. The more Brutus pulled out and the more that Boomer protested, the closer his climax came. Little white droplets rained from both the Dane's tailhole and cockhead; the husky's eyes darted from one to the next. His hand went to Brutus' side to help pull, wanting to see one thing and one thing only. The tied canines' combined yelling and snarls became white noise to the rush of blood in his ears, and when that fat black penis popped out with a wet sucking sound, a torrent of seed followed.

It was true; the few pictures and stories he had seen and read were accurate. The husky stared at the spasming, gaping result of sex and wished it was he who had been so thoroughly penetrated. Shortly thereafter his own load added to the sticky puddles on the pillows and floor. Kennedy powered through it, watching himself shoot onto Boomer's thigh and elsewhere with surprising force. The sensations became too much and he let go, breathing like a winded runner, his big stomach jiggling the rest of him as he lay back and relaxed into the bottom of the leather couch.

After groaning and collapsing onto his right side, the dingo stretched out his aching muscles and yawned, giving the impression that what he had just done had bored him. With half-lidded eyes, he said, "You weren't expecting this." Brutus sat off to the side, his muzzle buried between his legs, still having a field-day.

Kennedy could have been incredulous at that comment, but he was too spent. "Not in a million years." There had never been any reason to see it coming. Boomer had never alluded that he was into ferals, and the topic had never been discussed. There was no reason for such a topic to come up at all! Yet somehow he regarded what the dingo had done in such a normal light that he wondered if he had known all along. Or, since the husky had found the scene so arousing, didn't that say something about himself?

"I suppose I should have told you sometime before this happened. It was only a matter of time in the next three days until you caught me with Brutus. Thank goodness it was during the first time."

"You mean you were planning on doing this more than once? Behind my back?"

Boomer averted his gaze, feeling adulterous now that his hormones had worn off. "I'm sorry, mate. I've wanted to...to fuck something for a long time now, and seeing you the other night just got me all hot and bothered again, just like always. I wanted more than anything to take that toy out and replace it with me, but I knew I would hurt you. Ever since I met you I wish I wasn't so big so I could share myself with you. But I suppose that's awful selfish of me."

Kennedy didn't see the need to voice his concurrence. "So Brutus became my replacement until I could fit the bill? A dog that can't even talk back to you?"

"No!" cried the dingo. "He was never a replacement. He's a fetish, Kennedy. Lots of people have them, right? Leather and food and all that; ferals are just the same. It's like getting a fix of something you need every once in awhile, and I needed a fix. That doesn't mean I love you less, or that I want to stop trying with you. For God's sake, I want you even more than I did before I fooled around with Brutus."

The husky's still-moist brow remained furrowed. Boomer continued: "And I'm not saying that just because you came in here and caught us. If you call this cheating, then I'm guilty. I wanted to have fun with Brutus while I had the opportunity, but I didn't know how you would react if I told you now. I figured you would be disgusted, or at the very least, angry."

"You got one out of two," said Kennedy, "but I would have helped."

There was a moment of silence while the words seeped into Boomer's head while he stared at the stained pillows, then looked up, startled. "Excuse me?"

Kennedy blushed a little, glad for the conversation to be moving on. "I don't know, really. You saw how I reacted to you mounting Brutus. Part of it was the fact that you had your cock in an animal, I think...but another part was me wanting to be Brutus, and feel what he was feeling. He looked really happy, and I know I could get there if I tried. But..."

The dingo crawled over to Kennedy and pulled him into his arms. "You feel as if I've given up on you, don't you?" The husky said nothing, afraid of what he truly felt deep down, and Boomer cuddled him even closer, stroking the stray furs on his shaggy head. Sex still hung thick in the room but it was on the minds of neither canine.

"It was not my intention to make you feel...worthless," said the dingo, wincing at that last word. "Sex is a part of our relationship. It's been a big part, in fact, and I've enjoyed introducing you to it. But it's not everything."

"That's what I was thinking," said the husky in an eye-opening deadpan. He looked up at Boomer, worry lining his face. "I was placing more emphasis on whether we got off every day than being with you as a boyfriend. Boomer, do you think I love you?"

The question took the dingo off-guard. He squirmed a little at what seemed to be a deeply honest question. It was that kind of honesty that could stir doubt in even the strongest of hearts. He scoffed. "If I wasn't sure you loved me as much as I love you, I would have kept you on the other side of the computer screen."

"Really?" Kennedy had suddenly taken on the look of a puppy just offered a treat by his master and curled up a little closer to the dingo. After a few minutes of hearing each other breathe, he asked, "Boomer? Did we just have a fight?"

"If you could call it that, I suppose. We never really disagreed on anything. But I don't like seeing you hurt just the same."

"I overreacted. Startling, yes. Disagreeable, no way. No worries."

Boomer smiled at Kennedy's use of his native dialogue. "Yeah, no worries."

The aging afternoon sunlight threw long, harsh bars of white from the front foyer a few feet through the doorway, enough to cast dark monster-like shadows on the canines' faces. The atmosphere had diluted down to normalcy again, as if nothing deviant had ever happened within the confines of the professionally-decorated Lister home. Kennedy and Boomer sat cross-legged and facing each other. Brutus finished cleaning himself and, seeing that his bipedal friends were worn out, trotted away to have a snack downstairs.

"How long have you done this?" After all he'd seen, Kennedy knew there was more to be said about Boomer's (up until now) secret fetish. He figured the dingo at least owed him an explanation.

Boomer shrugged. "About as long as I've known I was gay," he said bluntly. "When I was eight I started pawing off, like most boys do. On our farm in Australia we had field animals and some domesticated ones. One day I saw one of those girlie-mags and wanted to try with something more real than my hands. We had a sow who was in heat, and she didn't complain when I touched her. Man, my heart was thumpin' so hard I thought I would have a cardiac if anyone walked in."

"You did it with females?" asked the husky.

"Back then I really didn't care who I fucked-sorry, had sex with-as long as it had a hole I could stick my dick in. We had a shepherd bitch too. When we sold the sow I moved on to her, sneaking her out at night to the other side of our land. She didn't like it at first, but once I learned how to arouse her we could go at it nonstop all night if we wanted. She could take it from the front and the back."

The husky listened with erect ears, hearing his mate retell old memories with a pleasant glassy nostalgia in his eyes. The dingo continued: "Well, Sheila died and I was crushed. I still believe I loved that dog more than anything in the world. There is a difference between fucking someone and making love to them, Kennedy . My father was sympathetic and got a new dog, a big Golden Lab male. You must understand I was a teenager with almost no friends and the sex drive of a rabbit. That first night, I fooled around with Orion, and we did almost everything imaginable. I taught him how to suck a cock and deepthroat, how to mount me properly, and eventually I got him to allow me penetration."

"Did he like it?"

"Yeah," said the dingo with the hint of a chuckle behind his words. "One of the hardest things to do is to get a male dog to take it up the ass and enjoy it. Orion was a natural; after our first time, which was a series of stops and starts and lots of biting, he suddenly came around and let me in whenever I wanted to. He never complained after that. He never got loose, either."

"You never let him out to play?" Kennedy asked in his oh-so-naïve way.

"No, puppy, I mean he always felt as tight as the first time I took him. I kept plenty busy with the animals through high school. I never felt the need for a relationship with either sex because I was getting all I wanted at home. I still wonder how my parents never caught on. Lucky, I guess."

Unlike Boomer, Kennedy had tried to get together with a few girls from high school, but the one he actually ended up dating for a month dumped him when he outed himself to her. The dingo was a few years his senior and had shunted any socializing for zoophilia. "Didn't you think that was unhealthy?"

"I suppose, in some part of my mind I thought I was doing harm to myself, stunting my sexual growth or something like that. But you also don't know what it was like for me at school. It was Catholic, and even though I felt sure of my orientation I was scared to death to even act like myself...I always felt like I was covering up what I really was, no matter how good a charade I pulled."

Kennedy remembered the day he came out to his parents, and their nonchalant answer of "As long as you're safe and happy, dear." Suddenly his life seemed much easier compared with what the dingo was telling him.

"Anyway," Boomer continued, eschewing the issue on purpose, "there have always been animals in my life. I grew up with it, and it developed into a part of me. I can't turn it off just like we can't turn off the gay, so to speak, and the point is I don't want to."

"And I don't want you to," encouraged the husky. "I mean, I'm interested now. Remember when I told you that housesitting could be the thing that gets me out of this rut I've been in? It wasn't exactly the housesitting, but something has changed. Maybe Brutus could be the thing to cure me."

"You don't have the flu, Kennedy. I've never encountered someone as hesitant to sex as you were, and each step of the way I had no idea what it would take to get you through. But we always did. If you want to try, then we can try. It all depends on Brutus," said the dingo.

Sighing as he stood up and stretched, the husky said, "I wouldn't worry about him. He seemed to take a liking to me from the first time he saw me." Kennedy extended his arm to Boomer, who took it and pulled himself up. The dingo was smiling now, lightening the mood.

"That's for sure. He pushed me to the side halfway through your rimjob."

"WHAT!? Say that again..."

The dingo blushed and scratched the back of his neck, looking elsewhere. "It wasn't my fault. Brutus wanted in on the action, so I let him take over when he insisted. He seems to like the taste of your tailhole more than I do; he must have stuck half his tongue in you."

Kennedy tried to speak and express some emotion, but he was neither angry nor disgusted. No wonder it felt so good towards the end. No wonder Boomer's forehead had been miraculously clear of cum. He never put the two together because he was too busy concentrating on ejaculating to look down. At least they had been properly introduced as canines. And, of course, he was hard again when he saw the dingo's eyes on him and looked down.

"Oh, you're a bastard," he growled, venomless.

"I know," said Boomer cheekily. "Well, mate, if we're going to try for a good and proper romp later on, what say we get some well-deserved dinner?"

"In or out?"

"How about out? I believe I owe you after you brought me flowers."

Kennedy punched the dingo in the shoulder. "And for cheating on me."

"Fine, fine! I'll buy you a dessert!"

* * *

"Oh my God, I swear I can't move, Boomer." Kennedy lay back in the passenger seat and tried to breathe.

"Come on," the dingo chided. "I ate more than you and I'm just fine. I even had wine. You, my friend, have a weak stomach."

"Wrong. I have slower metabolism."

"Whatever it is, we've been sitting here in the driveway for five minutes and we need to get inside. Now come on," insisted Boomer, unbuckling his stuffed boyfriend and trying to shove him out the opposite side of the Wrangler.

The husky finally complied, groaning dramatically. Boomer hopped down, his usual thin limber self, even though he was full of Italian almost to bursting. He was glad he had let Kennedy eat all of his dessert.

"Do you want some coffee?" asked the dingo.

"Ugh, no way! How could you think of ingesting anything right now?"

"Coffee and tea settle the stomach. I offered coffee because it seems to be the only hot thing you Americans drink."

The husky recanted his position. "Actually, tea sounds really good. Coffee upsets me no matter when I drink it."

"Really?"

"How many times have I gone to Starbucks since you've known me?"

"I see. I'll put on a kettle of something minty to counter the spicy marinara." Boomer unlocked the front door, took his mate's arm and led him into the sitting parlor just off the kitchen. There was a giant, deeply upholstered recliner there into which Kennedy settled gratefully. Brutus had heard the sound of the door opening and was now at the sliding-glass doors, jumping and barking up a storm, although the double panes allowed nothing more than the clicking of his claws.

Turning on the television to The Weather Channel, Kennedy listened to the upcoming forecast. His thoughts wandered from tomorrow's partly cloudy skies to his classes to Brutus, and when his mind touched upon the latter his pulse quickened noticeably. Boomer padded around the kitchen preparing the tea to boil, but even the promise of a settled stomach did little to calm his nerves.

The husky tried to envision what was going to happen in just a few minutes but couldn't. It was like skydiving; he was excited to try but would need all the instruction he could handle. He was glad he had someone like Boomer to help him along. The last thing he wanted to do was chicken out...or come prematurely again.

"It's done!" called the dingo as he brought Julie Lister's silver serving set with a kettle and two cups, gleaming in the light of the room.

"You look like a priss," remarked the husky at Boomer's swagger and careful handling of the tray.

"Anyone who carries a tea tray, male or female, is bound to look like a priss," the dingo shot back. "You want me to spill near-boiling water all over your chubby little groin?"

"I could sue you for, like, a million dollars."

"Come off it and drink," said Boomer with faux disgust. Deep down he loved it when Kennedy acted light-hearted like this. It meant he was comfortable, or at least trying to be. He could understand the husky's inevitable anxiety.

Kennedy took his cup and drank one, then two and half of a third before he set the tea down. Boomer sipped his and they watched more of the weather, which served as a very nice distraction.

Finally the dingo downed the rest of his now-lukewarm tea and, rubbing comfortingly over the husky's right thigh, asked the question: "Are you ready?"

Kennedy looked over at him with the face of someone about to receive major brain surgery and said, "I think so. Boomer, why am I so nervous?"

"Because you've never done this before. I would be worried if you weren't nervous." The dingo moved up, cupping the husky's crotch and getting a moan in return. He massaged the area purposefully and intensely, getting Kennedy hard very quickly, then unbuttoned his pants to free the aching redness. The dingo could almost feel tension leaving the husky's body as the shaft grew, pulsed and jumped under his touch.

"That-a-boy," me murmured, his Australian accent thickening a bit, "that's my puppy. Be good and let Boomer stroke all the tension away."

"But not too far," said Kennedy, humping a little.

"Naw, not too far. We wanna save our energy for other things. But for now we need to get you relaxed." With that, Boomer slid his other hand into Kennedy's fly. Bathed in heat, it made its way between his thighs to the perineum, where the dingo unsheathed a claw and ran it lightly there; Kennedy's thighs had rubbed the fur almost completely off and turned the skin sensitive. The husky bucked upward, and was gripped around the knot when he did so.

Kennedy loved it when Boomer masturbated him like this. On those rare occasions when neither fur wanted to do anything serious but still wanted to get off, a sure bet for the husky was being pawed and fingered simultaneously. His tailhole, although still too tight to take Boomer's massive member, afforded him great pleasure when used in other ways, and the dingo never seemed to tire of lending a digit or two.

As the scent of sex began to rise in the room, Brutus scratched persistently at the back door. Having been left outside for the past few hours and seeing the furs occupied in the living room was making him desperate for attention. The husky managed to speak in between breaths.

"I think the dog wants in."

"Should we?" asked Boomer in his silky thick drawl. "The bedroom upstairs is far more comfortable anyway." The dingo took his hands away, letting Kennedy sink back into the cushions with a fresh coat of light perspiration and went to the door. A second later Brutus bounded into the room, circled the furniture and stopped, nose in the air, investigating. His expert snout probed upwards and sideways, homing in on the husky's erection within moments. He walked over nonchalantly to inspect the hot meat jutting from Kennedy's groin and showed his approval with one long, slow pass over the length. The Dane licked his lips as if he wanted more, and the husky would have let him if Boomer hadn't taken his hand and pulled him to the stairs.

Brutus followed the two canines into the guest bedroom and sat obediently by the foot of the gigantic bed, on which Boomer threw Kennedy. The husky rolled onto his stomach, tail wagging so hard his entire rear moved with it. He was getting into the mood and losing his anxiety, and that was good.

The muted sounds of the backyard -- birds, a light breeze, the whir of a pool filter -- came in through the open windows covered by closed bamboo Venetian blinds. The only other sound came from Kennedy's doglike whimpers and Boomer's shirt as it fell to the floor, followed by his pants. His boxers, plump and taut but not tented yet, remained on. The husky, however, was a different matter.

Boomer crawled his way onto the bed and stroked the half-dwindled cock back to full erection, gaining humps of approval from his mate. With his other hand he helped Kennedy out of his shirt, stroking all the while, using the husky's natural lubrication to aid his way. The dingo did as much as he could, but after undoing Kennedy's tail flap he had to stop.

"Get these off me," the husky said breathlessly. Boomer complied quickly, and soon he had a completely naked, adorably chubby husky on his hands, erect and leaking. He pushed and Kennedy fell to his side, giving him room to fall next to the husky and clamp his muzzle over his mate's. Kennedy hugged the dingo close, pulling him onto his chest and grinding upwards into his crotch. A hand wriggled its way into the boxers and pulled out the black dingocock, doing the best it could to massage its girth. Boomer moaned and lashed his tongue out, running it the length of Kennedy's jaw, wrestling with the husky's tongue, massaging the upper palate.

Kennedy clawed over Boomer's back, begging him to go deeper than he could ever go naturally. His cock was set afire from the feel of the dingo's bellyfur, which was now nice and wet. Boomer strived for the deepest part of Kennedy's mouth, working his muzzle down and to the side, arching his back under the husky's grip, wanting to fuck him so badly but knowing he was second in line. Brutus watched them from the floor, very much interested, and when Boomer patted the bed twice, still locking muzzles with Kennedy, he jumped up immediately and proceeded to sniff anywhere he could stick his nose.

The Dane danced on his paws, excited but feeling denied. He poked around, licking various parts of the furs' bodies: Kennedy's exposed thigh, a random footpad, even under the dingo's tail (a familiar scent). Finally he whimpered, frustrated by the odor of arousal, and pried the two apart enough to start licking cock. His rough tongue over Boomer's member caused him to cry out and pull away, breaking the kiss. Kennedy lay panting, and when the Dane went back down he ignored the husky's protests; as soon as his tongue laved over the knot Brutus got an eyeful of pre. The dog yelped and hopped off the bed, crawling in circles and trying to get the fluid out of his eye.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry! Brutus, here, let me help," said Kennedy, his arousal forgotten momentarily as he flew to the floor and inspected the eye. A couple seconds of holding Brutus' jerking head and it was clean again, but the dog seemed to have totally lost interest. He wandered around the floor confusedly for a few seconds, then plopped down. The husky crossed his legs and leaned over his resheathing penis, chin in hands.

"I think we're down to two on this one," admitted Boomer, who came over and tousled the husky's head. "When a dog loses interest like that, they're down for the count."

"That's very reassuring," came the reply, cold as ice. Kennedy was clearly dejected and suffering from a case of blueballs, having been worked up and summarily cut off in a matter of minutes. Boomer was feeling much the same but had a better modicum of control. "There must be a way," he said, his tone flat.

"Once you have a dog back down, puppy, it's next to impossible to get him up again. Believe me, I've tried with Brutus more than a few times. We'll have to wait until tomorrow, let him sleep on it."

The husky suddenly got to his feet, his gaze set straight forward. He said, looking at the dingo frigidly, "Fuck tomorrow. I don't want to wait. That dog is my meal ticket to making you happy and I will NOT sit around and wait for him to get back into the mood."

Boomer was too taken aback to speak. He had never heard his mate talk like this before. It suddenly made him feel, from Kennedy's tone, that things had gone way too far and they needed to be stopped before someone got hurt. But he also recognized Kennedy's stubbornness to try every possible method before giving up hope, and by not supplicating he was showing utter love and dedication to impressing him...it was typical sled dog behavior. The dingo did not stop the husky as he stomped out of the room. He just knelt and held Brutus, who had taken a healthy dose of aggravation up his nose.

Kennedy's mind was a blur as he descended to the main floor and threw the glass door open onto the backyard. Hormones still raced through his system, needing to be released. The husky searched all over the expanse of grass, looking for a toy, a smell, anything that would gain Brutus' interest and draw it back to him. How hard can it be? he thought. Dogs hump anything that moves. What the hell do I have to do to get him horny?

Having exhausted the yard, he reentered the kitchen and, as his mind told him he was insane for fooling around with a feral in the first place, rifled through drawer after drawer. He worked in a clockwise pattern, going from the sink on one end of the bar all the way over to the silverware on the opposite side. The only things left were the fridge and pantry, but Mrs. Lister was an organic health nut. She wouldn't have anything potent enough to elicit the kind of response he needed. Kennedy skimmed cupboard after cupboard, but when he opened the tall, thin pantry his eyes alighted on one shelf. After a short but much more thorough once-over he saw a second item, and his face lit up in a smile of discovery.

"Eureka."

The husky ran back up the stairs and to the room, the contents of his hands making noise. Kennedy heard Boomer shouting as he tried to hold onto the dog, but Brutus came out clicking into the hallway, panting and ready to beg. He had recognized the sound immediately.

Boomer emerged from the doorway. "What do you have there?"

"Only the keys to getting back on Brutus' good side." The husky held up a big red box of Milkbones. "I think he knows what these are. He heard me coming a mile away." Kennedy pulled out a treat and waved it in front of the Dane, who followed it with intense eyes. "Come on, boy!" he said excitedly, walking through the door with the treat trailing him. Brutus complied as if hypnotized. The dingo followed, shutting the door after him.

Kennedy led Brutus to the bed, where he lifted the treat to prompt the dog to jump. Brutus needed only a slight push from his rear paws to get him up, and the husky rewarded him. He then set the contents of his other arm on a side dresser. Boomer, curious, moved so that he could see what his mate had gotten. When he saw the large jar of organic peanut butter he knew immediately what the husky was trying to do.

"Oh, no. No way, Kennedy. No way are you going to use peanut butter to seduce this dog."

The husky turned from petting Brutus to give the dingo a harsh stare. "Why not? It's the best thing for getting him back into the mood. Plus, it's good for him. Now, are you going to stand there and pout all night or are you going to help me? Don't be such a prude."

Now it was personal. Kennedy could be frustrated, he could get angry and disappointed and complain. But this was a side of his mate the dingo most certainly did not like, and arguing points with him was not going to improve the situation. And it definitely wasn't going to get anybody off. He decided the quickest way to get Kennedy back to normal was to just throw himself wholeheartedly into this deviant mess. And he wasn't a prude, dammit.

But before the dingo could lift a finger, the husky was off the bed and unscrewing the jar while Brutus still busily chomped away at the Milkbone. Without even the slightest bit of hesitation, he reached in and brought out two fingers covered in sticky peanut butter and reached back between his legs, smearing the stuff under his tail. When he was satisfied as to the amount, he set the jar down and crawled onto the bed, carefully avoiding the covers with his dirty hand. Waving his ass in front of the Dane, he chided, "Come on, boy! Come on!" To Boomer he looked hilarious, but the husky was dead-set in his actions.

Brutus, who had been watching the husky's antics with interest, smelled the peanut butter immediately. Looking for more free food, he jammed his muzzle under Kennedy's tail, detecting the familiar odor of husky under all that peanut butter. Like the dog he was, he began to lap at the thick paste, and Kennedy moaned out loud. Boomer, his frustration now forgotten, watched the show with crossed arms, half expecting Brutus to get his fill and walk away. But soon the peanut butter was gone and the dog was on holiday, eating out the husky's hole with abandon. Kennedy stroked himself on all fours, using the peanut butter on his hand as a crude lubricant.

Saliva trailed down the husky's balls and dripped onto the coverlet; Brutus made wet smacking sounds as he tried to rim Kennedy and clean his upper palate at the same time. Boomer came over and started to pet his mate with one hand while masturbating with the other. Smelling fresh peanut butter, the dog rooted further under the husky's belly, bouncing his testicles out of the way and using his long tongue to flick the base of his cock. The dingo saw what was happening and pulled Kennedy to the side. Seeing a clear shot to his snack, Brutus dived into the husky's crotch like a trained cocksucker, hilting the penis up to the sheath.

"Shhhhhiiiiit!" hissed Kennedy at the feral dog's rough tongue and skilled muzzle. "Did you train him to do this?" Boomer shrugged modestly. The husky drove Brutus' ears, directing him as best he could into a bobbing motion; it was a miracle the dog knew to avoid using his teeth. Soon he was humping upward.

Boomer shifted positions so that he was closer to Kennedy's crotch and gently nudged Brutus over. The Dane's mouth never left contact with the huskycock. When the dingo could nuzzle his head under Kennedy's balls, he began taking over with his tongue where Brutus had left off, darting it inward the already prepped hole. He tasted faint traces of peanuts mixed with Kennedy's own sweetish musk. For some reason, it aroused him further.

There were so many things going on between his legs that Kennedy didn't even realize Brutus had rotated and was now standing directly above him. When he finally opened his eyes he was staring at a very nice, and slightly swelled, set of balls and a sheath. He took his hands away from Brutus' head and roamed over his sides, feeling the ribs and movements of his chest as he sucked away, and the dog offered no resistance when the husky cradled his sheath and began massaging its length. Right away three inches of pale pink cock emerged, slick and dripping. Without thinking, Kennedy drew the organ to his lips, craned his neck a little and took the animal into his muzzle. A feral but desirous growl from above signaled encouragement.

Kennedy didn't want any of it to stop. Brutus' masterful fellatio felt wonderful and brought him close to orgasm quicker and more complete than anything Boomer had done, whether manually, orally or anally. The attentions by both dingo and dog on his tailhole were a very nice prelude. He wanted to keep licking on the dog's cock and feel it grow and pulse on his tongue with each new spurt of pre, but with much effort he knew he needed his stamina for other, more important things. The husky pushed the Dane off, who refused to stop licking his member until it was out of reach, and sat up, cutting off Boomer's access as well.

Maintaining a constant stroking on Brutus, Kennedy panted, "Now what?"

Knowing exactly to what his boyfriend was referring, the dingo replied, "Now we get you into position. Hands and knees, tail in the air." He spoke with the authority of someone who had mated with enough dogs to have written a book on the activity. Kennedy had to release Brutus' cock while he got into place, but Boomer took over. The dog stood still, knowing exactly what was to come next. Unceremoniously, the dingo stuck two fingers into the husky, waited for his whimpers to die down, and proceeded to open him up just a little more. It didn't take long for Kennedy to start pushing back at the fingers.

"Please, Boomer...I want him now. I don't think I can wait any longer. Don't let me chicken out." Suddenly the husky was nervous, realizing just how close he was to the act he had been looking forward to with such anticipation. Indeed, when he heard Boomer shout a command and felt the heat and weight on his back he uttered an unbelieving "Oh, God..." and steeled himself for a lot of pain.

What Kennedy didn't know was that the dingo had trained Brutus so well that the dog knew to enter slowly and speed up as he went along. It had taken many hours of practice, but eventually both the dingo and Dane could understand the other's body language enough to alter their lovemaking. As he watched Brutus' still-thin tip breach his mate's pink pucker, he felt envious that Kennedy was in for such a thorough and gentle fucking by a talented beast.

The husky didn't even feel Brutus penetrate him. The dogcock slid under his tail and into him five inches before he felt a slight pressure. Only when he bore down for the first time did he feel the hot length inside him. Brutus hunched a few times, driving deeper and getting only moans from Kennedy in return. The husky was more prepared and experienced than he thought.

"Atta boy, Brutus," cooed Boomer in the voice he used to calm the dog during their lovemaking sessions. He supported Brutus' sheath, holding it up and applying pressure to keep his knot from getting too big too early. Soon he would release altogether, leaving the two canines to their own devices.

From his position, Kennedy couldn't see much besides the coverlet of the bed. Since his upper half was lowered all the way down, the Dane could not adopt the standard stance of gripping his mate's chest with his front paws and humping away. This was not a problem, because standing on all four paws while still mounting the husky enabled Brutus to take his time with his thrusts, something which Boomer had taught him to enjoy.

Brutus was so glad that his secret dingo lover had brought a new friend over to play with him; the big husky was so tight compared to Boomer, and his fur much softer and warmer. The scent of fear and anxiety still clung to the air, and more was fuming off the husky's body, so he decided that it would be better to go slow. He felt Boomer's hand on his knot, guiding the rest of his cock in; the husky's hole stretched easily over the bulge at the end and locked it...until he withdrew.

"Ahhh..." Kennedy sighed ambiguously, still getting used to the invasion in his rear end that grew steadily, putting pressure on his intestines. But he loved it; his toy was smaller and more tapered than Brutus, and the sheer length and girth of the Dane inside him sent waves of pleasure out and through his lower back.

The big dog danced with his hind paws, signaling he had successfully hilted and was ready to proceed. Having guided Brutus' cock through penetration, Boomer now let go. The Dane pushed forward into Kennedy again, making him brace his knees wider to increase his access.

"Are you ready, love? I'm leaving it up to him now," said Boomer dubiously. He still thought Kennedy would not be able to tie with the Great Dane when the time came, but for now it was smooth sailing.

Kennedy shook, his body wholly claimed by the huge cock in his ass. He felt that, tied to such a powerful creature, he was put in a place he had wanted to be forever and now it was reality. "Let him go. Whatever he wants, I want."

The dingo patted Brutus' rear, but the dog did not move. He hung there, half-in and half-out of the husky, unsure.

"What's the matter?" asked Kennedy, still a little breathless.

"I-I don't know. Brutus, go ahead, boy!" More pats to the Dane's tail yielded nothing. Not even when Boomer stroked the exposed length of his cock did he thrust. "I don't get it..."

"Give him a treat or something!" bawled the husky, starting to gain discomfort from the intrusion. "I can't keep wide open like this for long."

Boomer decided it couldn't hurt. After all, the treats from the kitchen had started him back up anyway; it could very well keep him encouraged and going. The dingo grabbed a Milkbone and waved it in front of the Dane's face. The effect was instantaneous: Brutus seemed to jolt out of a mental doldrum and started a rapid-fire buggering of the husky's hole. Kennedy responded unintelligibly and bore down and back, burying Brutus inside of him. The dingo tossed the treat to the dog, who snapped it up without missing a beat, realized what he was doing, and slowed down to a more torturous and thorough pace.

"Holy shit...God that feels so GOOD!" muttered the taken husky, who rocked on the bed in time. Boomer sat back, ready with another Milkbone in case Brutus decided to stop again. But there was no need to worry; the dog seemed to be enjoying himself as much as Kennedy and arched his back, continuing his quest for climax. Thin lines of spittle dribbled into Kennedy's neckfur.

"Now you know what I feel when you're inside me," said the dingo, to which he received an emphatic shaking of Kennedy's shaggy and matted head.

"Uh-uh. I don't compare in the least to this dog, Boomer. He's three times my size!" replied the husky, finding it hard to breathe now that Brutus had gotten his rhythm and sped up, penetrating him straight through and with ease, eight inches of canine cock out and in, out and in, its growing base stretching him to new limits each time it passed his sphincter.

"You mean I never told you about my ex-boyfriend?"

Between pants, Kennedy said, "You...never told me...about an ex...ungh!" The Dane was starting to make noise now, instinct ruling over gentleness as his goal came within view. The husky looked more and more like another bitch to him, just one with an exceptionally tight hole, which didn't hurt matters one bit.

Just like Kennedy had done previously, Boomer was finding it harder to keep his concentration when he had a great view of Brutus' blood-red shaft plowing into his mate, whose tailhole seemed to suck it in with every hump. The dog's knot was almost full-blown, having taken on an odd bulgy shape instead of a perfect sphere. The dingo's hand worked his own meat slowly, taking the copious pre his cock produced and using it to his advantage. "My ex-mate was a stallion," he said plainly, though he had been meaning to elaborate more.

"Oh, wow." The husky didn't know Boomer had had any previous mates, but he realized it made sense by how loose the dingo was whenever they made love. If those two had sex with any regularity, he thought, it's no wonder I slipped in so easily. Even a small equine penis dwarfed his own. His thoughts were interrupted by a boiling sensation in his nuts that sent him into panic mode: he was going to come, and fast. It was much too soon and he was having too much fun. "Boomer! Boo-oomer!"

The dingo heard the note of insistence in the husky's voice and crawled close to the entwined canines. "Is he hurting you? What's the matter?" From the look on Kennedy's face he couldn't tell pleasure from pain.

"It's hap...happening again," the husky wailed, nearing the point of no return with no end in sight. His cock already spasmed in anticipation of releasing its spunk onto the bed. "You gotta staaaahhhp him from...from..." The husky didn't need to continue; Boomer knew exactly what he meant and a quick glance at the short red member flexing underneath his belly proved the point further.

"What do you want me to do, pull him out? It will rip you open!" cried Boomer, having experienced such pains himself. A quick decision was required of him, but either of them required a denial of pleasure for someone. From the bulgy look of Brutus' knot, the dog could come at any time, after which getting him out of Kennedy was a long shot.

The dingo was used to problem-solving, just not on such an impromptu basis. He touched on several ideas as he watched his boyfriend furiously mated by a dog who was bigger than he. Seeing that dark, pulsing penis and Kennedy's flesh as it stretched around the girth made him remember what tonight was really about, and suddenly a plan kicked into place. He didn't think Kennedy would mind one bit what he was about to do next.

The husky's lower torso was on fire; the need for release almost too strong to resist. Brutus' quick thrusts kept him on the edge of climax, ready to go over at any moment. Kennedy wished Boomer would hurry up and do something about Brutus; as much as he loved getting taken by an animal, things had happened too fast for his body to stand. But when Brutus' weight left his back and he felt the entire length leave, knot included, the void that remained as he clenched involuntarily caused him to hump a phantom orifice to shake it of before he creamed. It barely worked.

Brutus growled but obeyed as Boomer dragged him out and off the husky, but quieted down when one tight hole was replaced by a pumping fist. The dingo kept a constant fast stroke on the Dane to get him off quickly, and succeeded within a minute. A few jerks of his body and the dog's eyes glazed over, his head lowered as thin semen shot forth.

Now that Brutus had been taken care of without much fuss, the dingo could resume where he had left off. Cupping his hand under the dog's cock to collect slick cum, he lubed himself up and aligned the head of his member with Kennedy's wide-open tailhole.

The husky, who was still recovering from his near-orgasmic experience, paid little attention until he felt another cock poking at him and thought oh no, not again. When he realized he was being gripped with opposable thumbs, all his nervousness returned full-force. All of a sudden he was a virgin again, too tight for even a pinky finger.

"Nonono Boomer, please don't do that-" But no sooner than he had said the words did five inches of thick black dingocock slide effortlessly into his depths. The husky's normally atonal and low moans turned into a strained growl capped with a vicious snarl as he felt the return of his body being used and backed down onto the rest of Boomer's shaft. Gasping at the pure heat and wetness Brutus had left for him, the dingo found himself hilted and more in no time. Kennedy had many things he wanted to express at that moment, but he felt words would only distract them both.

Boomer took over where his feral friend had left off, albeit with slower strokes once again. Walls of flesh surrounded his tapered member and clutched at it needfully, unlike the first time the two had tried to make love. The dingo had felt as if he were tearing a hole in the husky from the way he screamed. But now, aided by an ample amount of doggy cum, his massive endowment fit like a glove. Even the beginnings of his knot met little resistance. He knew that once he tied with Kennedy there would be no going back.

Kennedy's climax neared with blinding speed, and although he wanted to tell Boomer to slow down and make it last he simply couldn't find the strength. His knees ached as they supported his rocking body and Boomer's quickening pace kept him in a place he could stay forever...that is, unless his cock came in contact with anything. He clutched the sheets, feeling his hole accommodating the dingo's knot slowly but surely.

The extreme tightness of the husky's ass was a welcome surprise for Boomer. He was long enough to be able to look down and watch inches of cock penetrate and withdraw from Kennedy. He made his strokes shorter, pushing in a little more each time, meeting almost no resistance and hearing no protest as he prepared to tie with his mate. Both canines could tell what the other wanted: a swift and satisfying end to a very long and rocky journey. Finally Boomer was able to get the widest part of his knot into Kennedy and he held himself there, applying pressure while trying to avoid driving home.

It happened with a minimum of pomp: as soon as the knot had passed through the husky's outer ring it fairly sucked in the rest of Boomer's cock against his will. The extra three inches plowing deep into his prostate drew Kennedy the rest of the way into the final stretch. He arched his back lewdly against the dingo's chest, his balls contracting as the inevitable bark welled up within his throat. Something nuzzled the side of his chest, and he opened his eyes just in time to see Brutus' head disappear under his belly. He remembered the peanut butter that still covered his cock just in time to feel himself engulfed by feral lips and tongue. It was over; taking Boomer with him, he fucked Brutus' muzzle for only a few seconds until he shot his load into the dog's milking mouth. The bark he was expecting escaped as a whimper and turned into a howl which, because nothing like that had ever come out of his mouth, sounded erratic and distended.

The tightness that already surrounded Boomer's cock became painful when the husky bayed his heart out underneath him. He had stopped moving when Kennedy came, finding his mate could do the thrusting for him. The husky responded powerfully to Brutus' ministrations between his legs, overpowered at both ends. Placing his hands on the bed, the dingo bent over Kennedy's back and rode out his climax in true doggystyle fashion, finally filling his mate with seed for the first time. By the way he felt his knot swelling, he knew there would be much cleanup needed when he softened enough to pull out.

Brutus, having lapped every last drop of sweet juice from Kennedy, left the husky's cock and lay down next to the canines, who looked more feral than anything at that moment. Talking into the husky's backfur, the dingo said breathlessly, "Why don't we rest now?" Without waiting for an answer, he buckled his right knee and let them both fall onto the bed, exhausted and sweaty. Cum leaked from Kennedy's tailhole and soaked into both furs' thighs; neither cared.

"Now..." started the husky before he had to catch his wind, "now do you think I should have given up?"

The dingo held his mate close, careful not to move too much within the husky. "I stand corrected. I'll never doubt you again. Thank you for being so perseverant."

"Stubborn is more like it. I come from a long line of ground-holders."

Boomer giggled at the double meaning, then yawned. "It looks like we finally tired old Brutus out."

"And I was going to give him one last treat, too," replied the husky, who reached for the box on the headboard and plopped one into his mouth.

"Eww!" cried Boomer, making a disgusted face. "You eat those?!"

The husky chewed for awhile, crunching the dry dog treat and licking his gums before saying, "What's the difference between us and Brutus, besides the number of legs we walk on? It does the same thing for our teeth. Here, smell." Kennedy craned his neck back and blew in Boomer's face. The dingo prepared for dog food-breath but was pleasantly surprised.

"Hmm," he mused. "And they actually taste good?"

"Here, try one for yourself."

"Maybe later. Let's try out that fresh breath." Boomer put a finger under the husky's strong chin and pulled him, as best he could, into a kiss. Brutus snored lightly on the pillows next to them. As he tasted the husky's muzzle, a clean but still meaty flavor, he could feel his balls contracting the last of their offering into Kennedy. Unfortunately, his tailhole was becoming less and less tight as the dingo grew flaccid. More cum leaked onto them and the bed.

Kennedy broke the kiss. "You know, I don't think I've ever felt this full in my life. I could get used to this, even without Brutus' help."

"I don't have a problem with that at all. You know, Julie's gonna throw a fit when she finds we ruined her bed. There's a twenty-four-hour drycleaner we could go to."

"And spoil a nice afterglow like this? Can't we just go to sleep, tied and in each other's arms like the stories say?"

"What stories involve feral dogs and peanut butter?" asked the dingo.

Kennedy smiled, halfway to dozing already. "All the good ones, of course." The husky snuggled back into his boyfriend and relaxed.

Seeing he didn't have much choice in the matter, Boomer nuzzled the back of Kennedy's head, inhaling the last of his heated sweat, and dreamed about food.

* * *

"Boomer, I told you to watch the place for a few days, not clean the whole damn thing," fussed the tigress, who was unable to hide her impressedness. "I should have you come over all the time."

The dingo smiled knowingly, calling her comment and raising with, "Just say the word and we're here, ma'am. We would love to come by again any time. Especially if you need us to watch Brutus. That's one special dog you have there. Take care of him."

"Don't you think I know that? I didn't pay fifteen hundred dollars for junk stock, son." Julie crossed her arms in a no-nonsense fashion, trying to play the know-it-all mother figure. It didn't suit her character at all, and she knew it.

At that moment, Brutus clicked into the foyer and trotted to the front door, where the two were standing. He licked the dingo's hand and sat on his haunches with a very noticeable boner. It did not go unnoticed by either fur, and Boomer found himself blushing.

"I think Brutus has a crush on you," said the tigress.

Boomer shook his head and said, "Nah. He probably smells husky all over me. We, um...were active this morning." That was a bold-faced lie, but much better than saying yeah, if you fuck a dog long enough they tend to do that around you. Kennedy had left that morning, after three days of on-and-off sex with and without Brutus. They had repeated that memorable night many times, and all three had gotten their thrill and fill of lovemaking. Although Boomer was sad to leave Brutus to his own resources, he knew the dog was grateful for the attention.

"Where is that zoftig cutie, by the way?"

"It's a weekday; he has class in the mornings. He said he would just come back home after since you were returning before he got out."

Julie put a hand on his shoulder. "You tell him thank you for me, okay? You two are more than welcome to come and visit any time you like. It's hard to find good men like you nowadays."

"Any straight men, at least," said the dingo, and it was true. Boomer patted Brutus one last time, wishing he could give the dog a going-away masturbation, and walked to the Wrangler. He pulled away, waving as he left.

It was a little shocking to park under the corrugated metal carport in front of their apartment building, knowing it was back to business as usual in their little home. He mounted two flights of stairs and found the door open.

"Hello? Kennedy, are you here?" he yelled, even though he had parked right next to the husky's little blue Ion.

"In the bedroom!" came the familiar voice. The dingo set his keys down and entered the bedroom, only to stop short and stare, his pants becoming immediately tight.

Red cloth had been draped over the window, casting the room in a warm, sexy light. Candles glowed wherever there was free space on the floor, dressers and headboard. Kennedy lay like a dog on the bed, his thick rump exposed to the air. He watched as the dingo ran a hand over his crotch, and the foot-long bulge that grew towards his belt.

"You naughty little bastard," mumbled Boomer, finding himself responding unusually strongly to the smell in the room, and the open jar on the side table.

"I thought you would like it," replied a smiling husky in a sultry voice, wagging his tail over his back. Peanut butter coated his entire groin, from cocktip to tailbase. Kennedy was presenting himself as a sticky offering for the dingo, knowing fully well that in the days of their vacation Boomer had developed a strong Pavlovian response to the stuff.

"How dare you take advantage of me like this..." he murred. For all intents and purposes he should have been sexually drained by now, but his raging erection begged to differ.

"What? Aren't you hungry?" Kennedy had pulled all the stops, expecting the dingo to be unable to resist such a tempting sight. His eyes gleamed without a trace of nervousness.

It took only moments for the dingo to strip, his long black penis already dripping profusely. He was going to make Kennedy suffer for what he'd done. He fairly drooled at the thought, needing all the saliva he could produce. There was a pile of Milkbones on the dresser to his right, and he took three. The first he put into his mouth, having come to enjoy the dry flavor and texture of the treat. The second he tossed to Kennedy, who caught it in midair and crunched it down hungrily. The husky wagged, following the third as it was placed just out of his reach.

"Oh no, puppy," the dingo teased. "That one's for after, if you do as you're told. It will take quite some time to get this mess off you. Not that I mind."

The husky barked obediently, and waited to be cleaned up.

FIN

4/29-6/5/05