My early experiences in bestiality

I am the only son in a 3 girl family, born 1966 in a
small rural town in Australia. I did the usual stuff
growing up – school, sports blah, blah, until I hit the
ripe old age when I left home. My older sister,
Joan, scored a hair dressing apprenticeship when I was
18, thereby passing on to me her part-time job with a
local gas station come corner store.

The owner of this enterprise was a lovely woman named
Carol, a mid 30’s divorcee who was a happy-go-lucky,
loud, plump red head. I found out years later she had
divorced her husband after many infidelities on his
part – divorce being something quite rare in the mid
70’s in a town that was mostly still stuck in the 50’s.

I started working with Carol, doing the usual things –
fuelling cars, checking oil (not that I knew what the
hell I was looking at, I just pulled the dipstick out,
gazed at it, poked it back, and hoped for the best),
serving in the shop, and generally keeping out of the
way as best I could.

The store was hardly ever busy, leaving me plenty of
time to do whatever I pleased, which, at 12, mostly
revolved around fantasizing about girls, and the
mysteries they hold to all young boys. I’d seen girls
naked, thanks to a strategically drilled hole in our
family’s bathroom wall, but I’d never seen IT. Never up
close anyway, so the whole female genitalia was
somewhat of a mystery.

One quiet Saturday afternoon, Carol had given me the
slightly gross job of bagging potatoes in what was once
the gas station’s lube bay, complete with service
trench. I was busy, if not enthusiastically filling
small hession bags with the local produce, lost in my
daydreams when Boof, Carol’s mixed breed dog, poked his
head around the corner to say Hi.

Boof and I went way back, we were great friends; he was
always up for a friendly bark when I arrived at work,
and I was always happy to lend a well-placed scratch.
He was a curious breed. Part Mastiff, part Collie and
part Alsatian – a true mongrel, but a lovely natured
pooch, roughly the size of a small boxer.

I abandoned the spuds to give Boof a scratch along his
back, which never failed to make his eyes roll and his
tail wag and his tongue fall comically from his mouth.
He arched his back as he always does, moving himself
forwards and back as the itchy spot shifted, all the
while happily mumbling to himself, as dogs do. I moved
my hands down his ribs, scratching away, when, as I
dropped to my haunches to get a better angle, I saw
about half his shiny red cock poking from its sheath!

As I was raised on a dairy farm, and not totally
unfamiliar with the general mechanics of breeding
(livestock at least), seeing his cock was nothing of a
surprise, but the feelings that welled in me were. I
had the most pressing desire to touch it!

Slowly, I reached my hand out, and very gently touched
the pointy head of his semi-erect cock. Boof stood
statue-still, his tongue still half out his mouth, as I
softly ran my hand under his fire-engine red cock. Boof
softly whined, and sort of side shifted to give me
better access, and pushed his rapidly hardening cock
into my hand.

I began to stroke him, my hand seeming to know
instinctively what was needed, as his cock swelled and
thickened, more and more pushing from the sheath until
I held his full length, about 5 inches I’d say. His
hips began to thrust, pushing his cock rapidly into my
hand, as he began to hump. I was amazed, and extremely
turned on! I stopped what I was doing, grabbed a crate
from behind me to sit on, then, as I reached for his
cock again, Boof reared up, mounting my knee, his
thrusts pushing me back into the wall.

I leaned into him, held his cock tight as his knot
began to swell at its base. My own tiny erection was
throbbing in time to his frantic thrusts, as his knot
fully extended into my hand.

I encircled his knot with one hand, as the other kept
milking him until I felt his rhythm begin to falter as
jet after jet of hot doggie cum washed onto my leg, my
hand, and the floor. Boof kept at it for a few more
moments, and then slowly began to withdraw from my
grip. I let him back onto his 4 legs, my hands dripping
with cum, my legs shaking, my heart pounding.

I stood, quickly dropped my pants around my ankles,
freeing my rock hard little cock, all 4 inches of it,
the head a lovely purple color, not a single hair to be
found. I rubbed frantically on my stiff little dick, my
hand flying back and forth, trying to free the cum
boiling inside. I’d only started to cum properly in the
past few weeks, courtesy of an older friend, but that’s
a different story.

Boof, seeing all the rapid hand waving, had decided to
investigate, and, without any preamble, ran his
incredibly hot tongue over my straining cock-head. My
legs nearly gave way, my hands falling to my sides, as
I gave him full rein. His soft warm tongue again
flicked out, this time from my tiny hairless balls,
right to the head of my cock. I shuddered with the
sensations, my hips pushing forward for more. His
tongue again engulfed me, this time from further back
under my sack to the tip of my cock, a sensation I
cannot even begin to describe.

I kicked my shorts clear of my ankles, and squatted to
allow his tongue free access to my scrotum. His tongue
shot out, and caught me right across my tightly
puckered asshole, which caused my already rock hard
cock to gain another inch I swear. Again he licked my
tiny hole, dragging his tongue along my crease. Finally
working out what both he and I wanted, I spun around,
knelt on that cold concrete floor, with my tiny pale
ass raised and spread for his tongue.

He launched his tongue with renewed vigor, I swear I
could feel it inside me as I frantically pulled on my
cock, his hot breath and tickly whiskers combining with
his insistent tongue to push me over the edge, as I
came the hardest I think I have ever come.

I stayed there, his tongue bathing my hole, my cock
shrinking back to its former worm-like self. I was
still shaking a few minutes later when he wandered back
out the door, leaving me satisfied, but strangely
wanting more. I dressed, my cum and his pooled on the
floor, my tiny ass tingling from his tongue. After a
few moments, I resumed my work, the potatoes didn’t
seem as smelly, or the task so onerous.

This became our (me and boof) weekly event – I would
find some task that required doing in the lube bay, he
would always find me waiting. I would begin scratching
him, but we both knew what we really wanted. His cock
would already be half hard when he came in, and I’d
have his cum spraying into my cupped hand within
minutes. I would then present my ass to his tongue as I
furiously wanked myself to orgasm.

Many years later, long after I had moved away, married,
had children, and was once again in my home town
visiting my now elderly father, I ran into Carol, now a
mid 50’s lady, still plump, until loud and happy. We
spoke of old times, how the world had moved on since
those early times, when Carol said something that sent
my blood ice-cold. She mentioned that Boof died 2 years
after I’d left, and how he always seemed to miss me,
and spent most of his time in that old lube bay. I must
have been the color of beetroot, and stammered that
yes, Boof and I were great mates, and spent many good
times in there. She gave me a knowing smile, and
mentioned had I ever noticed the window high on the
wall above the work bench?

My heart had, by this time nearly stopped I’m sure,
when she went on to say how much she missed her weekend
shows. I stuttered and stammered, she merely smiled,
kissed me on the cheek, and left me.

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