What to say about the sex? She didn't give orders this time, and I don't know if that's because I was remembering all the right moves, or if that was just something she wasn't doing anymore. She still went into that place, that intensely personal, tight place. Once again it kept the sex from being great – she wasn't giving. But then that's just who she was. And I'd learned I don't need to get much. She became even more sweaty and whimpered a lot. The bed was covered with grit,no doubt from the dogs, and we both became grimy and raw. It took me forever to come and when I finally did, I really let myself go, and when I'd calmed down Tabby whispered, "Well, that was dramatic." And then she said in a soft little girl voice, "Bogart, I want you to do something for me. Will you do something for me?"
"What?"I croaked.
"Please fuck me in the ass." She got on her knees and stuck her ass high in the air. The lights were off but I could see it all perfectly. Shehad probably a perfect ass, sagging like an over-ripe peach in it's plumpness.
Now, mind you, I had just come, and really blown my wad, as they say, and was currently more dehydrated than I could remember when, and exhausted, but I got to it, and spread her ass cheeks, and tried not to think about further traumatizing her dogs who'd been watching us this whole time with engaged and curious expressions on their little doggy faces, and willed my cock to get hard.
Or hard enough, I thought.
"Is there something wrong?" Tabby asked, her voice muffled from her mouth being pressed into the mattress. "You don't feel very hard."
I didn't dignify this with a retort. I was focused on my work. In that moment I felt like a coal miner. It was so dark in that stuffy little room, and all I could do was concentrate and try not to succumb to the environment. Digging in. Just keep digging, I thought, wiping sweat and grit out of my eyes, and then, when I started getting somewhere I thought, so this is it, this is it, this is where I die, this is where I can die. Because for what this was, and for who I was. Crude, I know, but I never claimed I wasn't crude, and by the way, you're pretty crude to for continuing to read all this. And it's okay.
In the moment when it was all happening, my fantasies coming face to face with reality, my life, Tammy, her dogs, and everything else, it was okay, okay because I felt nothing, and because of that, I also felt sort of complete.
YOU ARE READING
THE DOG HUNTERS (completed)
Ficción GeneralA suicidal homeless weirdo has adventures. He runs into a duo of dog lovers, who spend their days traveling around the city observing and honoring dogs. Wisdom cannot be run away from. He escapes paradise and falls in love with a strange lady who m...
