The Dog Lover

By Sigge S. Amdal © 2010

I was having a relaxing day doing nothing at all when I realized that I'd actually have to leave the flat to get some eggs and a six pack (breakfast & dinner). I had a chat with my pet fish and decided to check out the local pet store to see if they had frozen larvae – a delicious to hungry Kili fish that'll make 'em fornicate like swine given the opportunity.

It was a lazy Saturday and people seemed to relax at the same pace as I. That's what I'm going to miss about this place, the Sleepy Hollow just two bus stops above the Party St. #1 of Oslo. People can head downtown if they want the shopping hysteria and trendy stress-related symptoms of an urban lifestyle. Those that are left are unemployed alcoholics, pregnant housewives on maternity leave and poets who lost the war.

Having placed my bets on the regular horses – I play 6, 11, 4, 5, 8, 10, 2, 9 and 13 every weekend – I strolled casually through Torshov in a state of blankness.

There's a pet store just across the local café where they mostly cater the dog and cat owning crowd. I don't have a dog, not just yet, but I grew up in a mixed pack so I sympathize with those that keep them. Maybe they had fish food as well?

I stepped inside and a brown terrier pup belonging to one of the customers greeted me friendly, sniffing at my hands and acknowledging my superiority. I hate dogs that don't, and consider your leg or any other limb for that matter a humping pole for sexual stimuli.

I asked at the counter if they had any fish food but all they could show for was weekend & vacation feeding tables. Not good enough, but thanks anyway.

"But do you have a dog?" a busty blonde stopped me in the doorway.

"No, I don't. Not just yet."

She was nice. Fresh, appealing, in her sexual prime. And it was hot outside.

"You see, I'm giving away these samples of dog food, but if you don't have a dog I guess it doesn't interest you."

"Oh, I'm interested," I said. "Maybe you could tell me all about it somewhere less public?"

She took the bait, line hook and sinker.

"Hey, I'm just gonna show this gentleman some of the other bags in storage. I'll be right back!" she yelled above the isle to the middle-aged woman at the counter, and took my hand.

"Come with me."

There was a small five by five meter storage room stuffed with huge bags of dog food and I bent her down on one of the piles, while she quickly dropped her yellow panties.

"I'm gonna do you like a dog," I said, pulling out my member and playing with her cheeks.

"You like that, don't you? Yeah, you're a little dick loving puppy."

I could feel her blood throbbing around my JT. She whimpered anxiously.

"You've been waiting for this, haven't you? It's time the alpha male got his dips."

I thrust her against the plastic fodder bags, and she sounded like a virgin, wet as a dog's snout.

"Get your blouse open."

I didn't stop but she unbuttoned and I grabbed the firm breasts with both hands.

"Lean over me," she said.

"What?"

"Lean over me, like a Labrador. I want to feel your breath in my ear."

I did as she said and panted into her ear, licking her cheek, and going as far inside I could, completely filling her with the pure adrenaline of beast head.

She made a yelping sound and came all over me, and I followed rightly after. I just love to hear 'em come.

"Thanks," she said and kissed me.

"Anytime," I said, just noticing the strong smell of dog food, making me cringe.

"God, that's an awful smell from the bags."

"No, I love it," she said, buttoning her blouse.

"Can I call you for a deal if I ever buy a dog?"

"Sure," she said and winked. "And you?"

I turned in the doorway.

"Bring the dog too."


Sigge S. Amdal is a word wanker from Oslo, Norway.