Date: Tue, 10 Sep 2019 20:42:46 +0000 (UTC) From: Mikhail Conrad Subject: HELPING HANDS Part 1 Chapter 2 This is a story about sex between adult men and male dogs. If that offends you then you know where the back button is. You must be 18+ to read this, if not go back now even if it doesn't offend you. This story is my intellectual property and may not be posted in any way or used for anything other than personal reading without my express permission. Archive;'Helping Hands #2'{Mikhail Conrad}( Mdog best )[2!6] HEY READERS! HELP NIFTY KEEP SUPPLYING YOU WITH THESE GREAT STORIES BY DONATING TO THE SITE AT: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html Feel Free to contact me about this story at Mikhailconrad@yahoo.com HELPING HANDS Part 1 THE GREYHOUND BREEDER Chapter 2 LUCA GATTI Dancing Dervish sat calmly on the bench seat of the golf cart between me and Mr. Gatti. I could see Mr. Gatti's left hand between Dervish's legs cupping the dog's big nuts. He held the canopy pole with his right one to steady himself. He stared intently at me watching him gently handle Dervish's hairy balls. "Don't wreck!" Mr. Gatti said loudly as I almost drove off the pathway and into a bed of azaleas, "Be careful Alan. I'm just encouraging his testicles to produce sperm. You do want him to be carrying a big load, don't you? It's exciting to think about isn't it?" "If I think about it too much I'm going to cum in my pants Mr. Gatti!" I told him, "The only thing keeping me from blowing my own big load is the jealousy I'm feeling for you doing that and me driving this fucking cart." "When you open up, you REALLY open up, don't you Alan?" he asked jokingly, "And I know, just call it from years of experience, that you won't be ejaculating directly into your pants. Something is containing your bulging meat besides those thin linen shorts. Maybe a thong?" "What's left to hide?" I queried back, adjusting said bulge with my free left hand, "I told you, `I love dog cock,' You told me you did too. You offered to supply it for me if I let you watch. I'm all for that Mr. Gatti. I feel so fucking relieved, and HORNY! I want Dervish! FUCK man! I want his cock. I want to feel his knot plowing into me! Do you have any idea of how good it feels to just be able to say that to someone and not get assaulted or shunned? And if you've got a thing for thongs, it's not going to be with me though. I hate butt-floss. The hairs in my butt crack get tangled in it and I'm not shaving them off. I've done that and I end up scratching my itching ass all the time until the hair grows back. I'm wearing a jockstrap..., or it's wearing me is more like it right now." "Ah! An athlete and his supporter..., the erotic images that brings to mind," Mr. Gatti sighed wistfully. I could almost see the lightbulb go off over his head as his facial expression changed instantly. "If I supply you with them, would you wear them while you bitch yourself out?" he asked me. "I have plenty of straps already Mr. Gatti," I informed him eagerly, "I have a thing..., a fetish thing for them. I love getting my ass plowed wearing a jock." "Calmly Alan," he interrupted me, "I think you can get say..., two-hundred dollars apiece easily, for one that is zip lock sealed, wet with dog semen and clumps of your seed. I can manage it for you for say..., twenty percent. That will pay for the athletic supporters and all the other overhead. It will be one-hundred and sixty dollars for you for each one, and all you have to do is put on a new supporter, get knotted by a dog, which is what you are going to do anyway, and then give it to me when you're released. How many knottings do you think you are going to take in a week?" "I don't know," I answered, "I haven't thought about it. I guess it depends on you and how many dogs I can have, and the privacy to do it." "You'll have full access to the stud kennel and any dogs there Alan," he told me directing me to pull up to a gate in an eight-foot privacy fence concealing the backyard of his house, "And I'm going to give you full access to the pool house whenever you want it. I can also let you use the younger males if the twelve breeding studs aren't enough for you, but they will be rambunctious and not nearly as proficient in their mating." Mr. Gatti got his cell out of his pocket and keyed the gate open. Behind it was a large landscaped backyard with a fifty- meter pool. The pool house he had mentioned was to the left, a modest single-story building matching the architecture of the house. The back of his house that opened onto the pool deck was a covered outdoor living area with kitchen, bar, grill, and a social tan leather pit group around a fireplace. He directed me to the pool house, and I drove the cart to its front door. "I guess I could go for a couple of times a week," I finally said testing the waters. "I'm betting you go a couple of times today! You're a self- proclaimed dog slut, Alan. Own it!" Mr. Gatti said laughing as he got out of the cart with Dervish jumping down right by his side, "So, should I order those supporters? You look like a size 32, right?" "Yeah, why not? A medium fits me in most brands," I agreed, not really interested in money at the moment and trying to adjust my uncomfortably jock constrained cock, "Are we going to do this right now?" "Do what Alan?" Mr. Gatti asked as he opened the door and stepped aside for me to enter first, "Be specific boy..., order your jockstraps? Show you around the pool house? Or..., maybe you're asking about something else..., hmm?" "Quit taunting me," I laughed and walked through the door, "You damn well know I'm talking about getting screwed by Dervish." "Don't worry, we'll get to that," he said following me in, "First I want to go over some rules. They will let us have some peace of mind." Mr. Gatti shut the door behind him and flipped on the lights at the switch beside the door. We were in a small foyer. The open door to our right was a grey tiled bathroom with an open pole shower with four heads at the far end, a long two sink counter on the left, urinal and commode on the right, and a fixed bench in the middle of the room separating them. Everything was stainless steel. A closed door on our left appeared to be a closet or storage room. A stone archway was in front of us. It led to one big open plan room. The floor looked like dark grey granite but was much softer, but still firm under my shoes. I guessed it to be some kind of rubberized material. The small kitchen was across from us past a den-like sofa-chair-coffee table space. Another apparent exterior door was on the far wall between the kitchen and a small dining area. To the left of the den space was a large round gaming table with six chairs pushed in around it. The walls on both ends of the room had closed double grey wooden Tuscan arched doors set in their middle. "Come have a seat," Mr. Gatti invited motioning to the big overstuffed brown leather sofa. I sat down a couple of feet from him with Dancing Dervish sitting on the floor between us. Mr. Gatti picked up a key and a small remote device with a single bar covering half its black surface from the rust colored block coffee table in front of us. He handed both of them to me. "This is the key to the door over there," he told me pointing to the door beside the kitchen space, "There is covered parking and a short sidewalk from the door to it. The driveway splits off to the right just before you get to the main house where we came in. You can't miss it. The remote operates the gate. There's a laser sensor that registers a passing vehicle to close the gate. If that laser is blocked for more than fifteen seconds, it will set off a security alarm so don't stop in the gateway. It will also close automatically if nothing crosses it for fifteen seconds, so don't stop in the drive entry to chat or text and expect it to remain open. Are you with me so far?" "Yes sir," I answered, "Thank you! I almost can't believe this. It's..., it's..., unbelievable!" "Ah!" Mr. Gatti exclaimed, "Let's deal with this `sir' matter. I understand that there are certain behavior patterns associated with social manners that have been instilled in you, probably since birth. Is this correct?" "Yes sir, uh..., I mean, yes Mr. Gatti. My parents..." "Let that go for now Alan," he interrupted, "What I want to deal with is our future relationship. When you call me Mister, you are reinforcing an authority role for me in your mind. I don't want an authoritarian or parental relationship with you Alan. I want a more comfortable type of friendship between us. I want us to be able to trust each other as fellow compatriots and confidants. I want us to relate to each other without any anxiety caused by any type of tier ranking. I want complete non-judgmental honesty between us. Do you understand what I mean?" "You want a real pal," I answered with smile, "Someone you can share your love of dog sex with, someone that you know won't ever attack or abhor you. I get it man. You just gave it to me. But saying sir to my elders is a habit." "Exactly Alan!" Mr. Gatti said, "You are perfectly right on all counts, friends with no complications. So, let's change your mind set about saying `sir' to me, okay?" "How?" "Let's play a game. I learned it from a fellow zew when I was just a few years older than you," he explained, "I used to call him sir, just like you do me. I did it because my father was an unholy hyperactive control freak. If someone looked like they were my senior in age and I didn't use sir, he used to put a welt on my butt with a razor strop right up until I physically stopped him by putting him in a full nelson at the age of twenty-nine." "No shit?" I exclaimed, "My dad used to lay a burner on me with an Airforce officer's dress belt for the same thing! I got mine bare-assed. Did you?" "Every time," Mr. Gatti answered, "He used to save them up by avoiding me and catching me for whatever offense he could come up with, and then he'd be too busy to deal with it at the time. He found out, about the time I was eleven, that if he gave me three..., four..., sometimes five if I could control myself that day, lashes with the strop, that I would get an erection even if I was crying and begging for respite. He thought it was hysterical. He'd laugh and call me Boner-bad boy. By the time I was fourteen it was the only name he used for me in private. I don't think he ever told anybody else about it, but in the final days of his dementia, he called out to me in front of his doctors and care staff. `Boner-bad boy,' he'd call out, `Where are you Boner-bad boy?' I'm sure they thought it was some kind of homosexual Alzheimer's ranting." Mr. Gatti and I both cracked up laughing at his feeble wavering voiced impression of his dying father crying `Boner-bad boy.' The outburst was so infectious that Dervish joined in, pouncing gracefully back and forth licking our faces. Neither one of us rejected his affections. A flash thought of `How good would that tongue feel on my hole?' brought my laughter to a halt. "That is some major fucking shit," I told him, "I think my dad is a totally repressed homosexual." "It's a constipated, two-million dollars' worth of therapy, stack of shit Alan," he said amidst his ongoing chortles of amusement, "And all that therapy didn't do me near as much good as something I did. Can I tell you a disgusting secret?" "For sure man," I replied, "We already know one of those about each other anyway." "What's that Alan?" he asked me all serious now, without any sign of his recent laughter. "You know, our thing with dogs..., getting fucked and knotted, all that stuff," I answered with a puzzled expression. "I don't know that at all Alan," he said shaking his head repeatedly in denial, "That isn't a disgusting secret. It is a sexual secret. Please don't be disgusted by your sexuality Alan. Nobody, human or animal is getting hurt in any way they don't choose to be, and even that's within reason. Nothing requires medical treatment, a little first-aid for a scratch here and there. There isn't any mutilation or killing going on. The two times that I have made a dog that I was sexing with yelp, once from overexuberance and another from carelessness..., let's just say, I wanted to take that strop to myself. You can't be happy with yourself if you're disgusted with yourself. You're just as conflicted as I ever was. We have to get you happy Alan. You can't be happy with others if you're not happy with yourself. And frankly, this `other,' isn't happy with that." "I never thought about it like that," I said, "Society and most religions believe..." "Believe! That's right Alan! You're right again," Mr. Gatti interjected, "They believe, they don't know! If they knew, then there would be proof, and that would make it science, not belief, or opinion, or religion. I find it hard to accept those beliefs. Go take a look at that mirror over the sinks in the front bathroom. Go on, and please, read it out loud." I got up as he palm-down hand flapped me away. I kept looking back at him as I walked across the room back to the front foyer and into it, out of his sight. He flapped at me the whole time urging me on. I looked into the bathroom in the dim light from a narrow overhead skylight. I saw the light switches on the wall just inside and flipped the first one on. Indirect lighting, all around the edge of the ceiling, brightened the room and cast artistical angled shadows across the tiled floor caused by the stainless-steel features. The reflection off the stainless and off the full wall mirror behind the sinks was a geometric fantasy. There was plenty of light to see the words etched into it, up one side, across the top, and back down the other side. It was about twenty feet of two-inch tall acid etched letters. "Condemn none: if you can stretch out a helping hand, do so. If you cannot, fold your hands, bless your brothers, and let them go their own way..., Swami Vivekananda," I read out loudly so my voice would carry to Mr. Gatti. "Now THAT's something worth believing in Alan," His strong baritone came back to me, "Do no harm, the Wiccans say. Some Native Americans call it 'at one with the spirits.' These are things I choose to believe in Alan, because belief is always a choice." I read it again, this time softly to myself. I didn't have to think about it very much before I began to see deeper things in it. It fully implied free will. It promoted a binding society through aid and good will. It discarded judgmental thinking. And then I saw the flaw. "I have a problem with it, Luca," I said to him as I walked back into the main room. He couldn't hide his beam of delight at my use of his first name in spite of my declaration of conflict. "By all means Alan," he said, "Tell me about it." "You know as well as I do that not all of those so called `brothers' are going to fold their hands, bless me, and just go along their merry little ways," I told him, "Pacifism won't work in our world." "Who said anything about pacifism?" he asked, "It's logical step philosophy. Follow the steps. One..., don't judge, two..., help, three..., accept, four..., embrace freedom. The philosophy holds for me. The situation you are projecting doesn't fall into the logical framework past acceptance. Acceptance has to be a two- way street in order to embrace freedom. If it isn't then we diverge from this step and an additional philosophy or philosophies must be incorporated to define our course of action." "And what would that be?" I asked "For me it would be whatever course of action would be most likely to make those `recalcitrant brothers' let me go my own way. Freedom is that important to me." "You are totally fucking with my head Luca," I told him, "And I'll tell you what buddy, I like it! I fucking love your honesty man. I know I'm fucked up. If you see something fucked up about me, tell me and let's fix it. But man, I have to tell you, I'd probably be a better conversationalist if I could get my mind off Dervish here and take care of my hard cock." "You want it bad, don't you?" he said with that lop-sided grin that I was learning to recognize as more probably his sexual leer, "I remember squirming my ass in my seat wanting it many times. Do you want it that bad Alan?" "Oh fuck yeah...," I sighed sitting back down on the coach and squirming my ass into it in sympathetic lust, and decided to tease him back "I want it bad Luca. I fucking need it! You want to see it..., don't you? I want you to watch me Luca. I want you to watch me get down and cry out as Dervish mounts me and plows his hard bone up my hole." "I think I'm going to call you Nasty-boner boy in private," he said watching my athletic body ass squirm on his couch. "I'll call you Boner-bad boy if you do," I told him with a devilish chuckle. "That's okay with me Alan," he told me still grinning, "I'm fine with it. I never did tell you that disgusting secret..., I'm fine with my father now too. I got back at the mean bastard. I was finally able to let it go when I claimed the name. I snuck in a codicil to his will one time when he had it changed. The lawyer asked me about it, and I told him it was fine with me if it was part of my father's final wishes. He never mentioned it to my father, he just gave it to him to sign thinking he had written it in the first place and it was fairly private. What I did Alan, was have my father buried with a twelve-inch-long, twelve-inch-circumference, black rubber butt plug stuck up his ass. The base has a string attached gift card that says, `FROM BONER-BAD BOY.' The codicil I added asked for me to dress my father for his final viewing, and I did." "Fucking good for you Luca!" I applauded him, "You went through what..., eleven to twenty-nine is eighteen..., eighteen years of emotional abuse that you've told me about already. I'm not even going to get into the physical abuse. You're still going to have to convince me that part was really abuse, man. You did get a hard-on. You had to have liked something about it even it was kinky." "You've got me there Alan," he admitted, "I always did like a good spanking every now and then. But..., we've gotten a little off track here. Rules, there's still a few rules we need to agree on. Why don't you lose your shoes, shorts, and shirt, and come sit down with Dervish while we go over them. It won't take long and you can get to know your new stud with your hands. He can get to know you too." Luca didn't have to ask me twice. I had shoes kicked off, belt removed and coiled, and shorts and shirt removed and folded, in less than ninety seconds. I stacked them and set them on the table. I stood back up and pulled my jock pouch away from my crotch with my right hand. With my left I gave a squeeze of relief to my aching long time bent and constrained cock. It shot to full hardness with a couple of more squeezes. Now that it had gotten its proper erection blood supply, it was seven inches of rock hard thick hairy dick. I let the pouch of the jock down until the head of my pecker rested in the seamed front tip of the mesh. My rigid tool tented the strap obscenely. It distended the pouch so much that you could see my drawn up furry nuts and through to the other side around my lust driven stiff cock. The ass straps were pulled tight to the point that they thinned and dug into my cheeks from the curve of my hips all the way under them until close to my taint where they stretched out thinly taunt and attached to the back of the bulging tight mesh jock pouch. "Do you mind if I take one of these? They're prescription." Luca asked me, holding up a small blue oval tablet. "No man, go right ahead," I told him with a smile of lust as I knelt down with reaching hands to Dancing Dervish. "Don't molest him Alan," he told me before my fingers got to his sleek furry chest as he swallowed his pill, "Gently, easily, just touch him. Soft slow touches." He bent over and took my right hand in his left and placed it gently on Dervish's neck, right in back of his head. Still holding my hand, Luca drew it slowly down the dog's neck and around to his chest, pausing my hand at every muscular bulge along the way and pressing my hand gently into it so I could feel the corded strength in the tissue. A blob of pre-cum bubbled out of my piss slit and a small drop of it came through the mesh and made a string off goo to the floor below. "Don't worry Alan, everything in this room is washable," he told me, "Just relax, sit down all the way and touch him like that. He's going to move around a bit too. If you lose hand contact, stay casual, change hands if you need to. Touch him again. You need to be calm while he checks you out. He's going to use his nose mostly. He might nudge you with his muzzle gently. You can go with it or not. What he is telling you is that there is somewhere on you he wants to become more acquainted with. The more sexually aroused you get him, the more insistent he will get about it, so for a bit while we talk, don't overly tease him. I mean like don't put your mouth on him and use your tongue. Don't jerk him off. You can feel his cock. Gently squeeze it so you know the shape and form of it. Get the heft of his nuts. Go ahead. I'll talk and you just answer when I ask you anything, okay? "Yes sir," I said tauntingly. "We'll get back to that game too, after the rules," he told me as he sat back and watched me slowly fondle Dervish, "The next rule is that you have to always give me an hour's notice before you come over to play. That gives me time to take one of my magic pills if I want to. Is that okay with you? "Yes," I answered easily. "And we never talk about our canine relationship to anyone else without the other person's complete clearheaded approval. Can you agree to that?" "For sure! I like that. It's for our personal security," I responded as I felt the long smooth muscles of Dervish's left inner haunch with my left hand. "Dervish!" Luca said quietly to the dog whose ears pricked up at the sound, "Scent!" Luca pointed at me and the dog looked at me and began to sniff and lightly snort his way through my chest hair. I reached further and got my hand carefully around his nutsack. Dervish nuzzled his way into my right armpit, and I raised that arm all the way up for him. "And Alan, I need you to agree that you'll only engage in sex with my dogs here. By here I mean inside the privacy fence around the pool and here in the pool house. You can bitch for them outside if you want but remember the days of the week and that schedule for privacy I told you about. I don't think that you want Alda coming out to the pool house to change the sheets some Wednesday and find your ass hanging on the knot of one of the studs. She'd never say anything, but I doubt she would ever look at you the same again. She'd be absolutely embarrassed to death." "I pro..., I promise!" I gasped as my dick continued to drip while Dervish sniffed my pit and gave it three soft licks with his tongue. I moved my left hand further up and felt the warmth of his hairy sheath and the firm shaft it covered. I almost drooled in excitement and caught myself trembling. I hadn't been this nervously excited since Johnny Baker had traded blow jobs with me out in the woods at summer camp. "And one last rule Alan...," he paused. "Yee...ee...ess?" I asked almost whimpering as Dervish lowered his head to my jock and licked up the dick drool coming through the mesh. "Dervish, sit!" Mr. Gatti ordered. The dog immediately left off on his licking and sat obediently looking at Luca with his tail wagging slightly. He looked at me trembling on the floor and gave me that grin. I looked up at him questioningly. "You have to respect the dogs Alan. You have to promise me that you will cherish them. Even if they get a little bit peevish or aggressive, you have to be kind and understanding. You're the human. You have to provide most of the understanding in this kind of interaction. Can you do that?" "I can..., I mean, I think I can. You'll help me, won't you? If I like..., get overly excited and it looks like the dog could get hurt, you'll say something or stop me, right?" "I'll lend you a hand whenever you ask for it Alan," he told me, "I have a lot to tell you if you want to hear it. And I like hearing your point of view too." "Well, I'm asking Luca," I told him as he loosened his tie and took off his jacket, "Don't let me fuck up. Can I get fucked NOW? PLEASE?" "Patience Alan," he admonished me, "We still have to take care of your mind set." "I think I have a handle on it," I told him, "I only called you sir when I was teasing you since I got undressed." "And you think you can keep from conforming to your habit?" He asked. "I think so." "Then I guess you're ready for some dog cock, aren't you?" "Oh fuck yeah!" I agreed. "You want it bad, don't you? You need to feel Dervish scrambling to breed with you, don't you? You want to get dog fucked, don't you? Do you REALLY need it Alan?" He fired the questions at me too fast for me to respond and getting a bit more forceful with each one, "ANSWER ME BOY! DO YOU WANT MY DOG TO FUCK YOU AND KNOT YOUR ASS UP? ANSWER ME YOU DOG SLUT! DO YOU WANT IT?" "YES SIR!!!!" I cried out, "PLEASE MAN! PLEASE LET HIM FUCK ME!" "See Alan...," Luca said calmly now, "There you go with the sir again." "You sly old dog!" I said and started laughing, "You fucking played me like an mp3. Okay man, tell me about your game. It's a good thing everything is washable in here, because my dick might explode at any minute." "We just played the game Alan," he told me, "You just have to agree to go along with it. Every time you call me sir, I'll be your sir. I'll be in charge. And you'll do what you're told. If you don't, then you don't get any dog dick. How does that make you feel about saying sir? Now you have a new thought attached to the word and it's a sexual one. That's a strong attachment isn't it? What do you think of the game?" "I don't know," I replied, "Like I have to do what? I can tell you right now I won't do just anything. No way am I going to jump off the roof or go streaking through your kennels with your employees watching." "It's a game Alan," he said laughing, "We're confidants remember? I don't want to damage you. I'm not talking about controlling anything but the dog sex. If you call me sir, then I call the shots. I'll tease you until you babble. Every time you say the word to me, you're going to learn another way a dog can torment you with desire. And I have some toys and restraints we can use to keep you from accidentally gaining an orgasm while you're in servant mode. Do you want to agree and play? Remember it's all to help you with your mind set about that word. I promise it will work." "You know..., at some point I'm going to get curious enough to say it on purpose to see what happens even if I don't slip up first," I admitted. "Oh, I'm counting on it Alan. Trust me on that. I've played this game many times. Just remember that saying it repeatedly ups the ante. You could end up restrained with your butt in the air getting your anus licked by several dogs, but never penetrated for hours. And then the dogs get sent back to the kennel after you have to watch me jerk them off one at a time spraying their semen all over you. And you, the bitch, never got fucked, much less knotted, just because you said sir one too many times." "Now I know I'm not going to slip up," I said chuckling, "Can I PLEEEEEZ get fucked now? LUCA? PLEEEZ!!" "Are you all clean inside for Dervish Alan?" he asked. "Yes! I made sure of that this morning and I'm good until after dinner." "Okay then, if you need lube you can find it in the table. The top hinges up and you'll find a lot of things like towels stored in there besides lube," he informed me, "The dresser in the right- side bedroom has light jerseys and t-shirts in drawers by size. Would you like for me to get you one while you get all sexy with Dervish?" "That would be great Luca," I answered, "It'll keep me from getting scratched up. I've had some bad ones before." "No reason for that here," He told me," The studs are all efficient breeders. They know how to put the fuck to the hole and not to your sides. Play with him Alan. Dervish! Play! Play with Alan Dervish!" The dog stood up and licked my face. He lowered his snout to my crotch and began sniffing intently at my balls through my tented jock pouch. Luca got up and walked across to what he called the right-side bedroom. It was the one behind the double doors on the right as we walked in the house. I reached for Dervish's sheath and felt the wet glans of his cock as it came inching out. I jacked it a few times as fast as I could, and he began to hump my hand. I bent over with my chest to my knees and took his forelegs, one in each hand and tried to pull him up onto me in a fuck mount. Just then, Luca came back into the room with a black t-shirt in hand. "What in the world are you doing Alan?" he asked me. "I'm helping him mount me," I told him, and released Dervish to kneel up and look at Luca. "He doesn't need any help to do that Alan," he explained, "He knows how to fuck a willing bitch. Show him you're willing. He's not a dildo. Let him do the fucking. Turn your back to him, spread your legs, and show him where to do it. Turn your head and look at him and beckon him to mount you. If you can project a feeling of `I dare you to fuck me,' do it. He can smell it. He'll take it as a male dominance challenge. And with you being on the ground and presenting a breeding stance, he'll either mount you or start licking your hole. If he chooses to lick your anus, enjoy it. He'll mount you soon enough. DAMN! You might as well go ahead and call me sir, Alan. You need some instruction. I should have asked you more about your experiences." "Well go ahead man, tell me what to do. I thought I had to get them up on me the first couple of times, so they'd know it was okay. It's been like that with all three of the dogs I've done so far." "Alright then," Luca agreed and tossed me the t-shirt, "Do exactly what I tell you to and you can help by telling me exactly what Dervish is doing to you. Okay?" "Okay!" I quickly and readily consented and yanked the shirt on as fast as I could. "Do you mind if I masturbate while I direct you Alan?" Luca asked and added, "The sight of you, so inexperienced and anxious, with your ramrod hard-on and the look of fuck desperation in your eyes has given me a major boner. I'd be a shame to waste it. Even the little blue pill doesn't work all the time." "Fuck Luca!" I exclaimed, "You can jack-off on me if you want to man. I owe you way more than that. Just tell me what to do. I want to get fucked. I want Dervish's knot stuck tight in my ass. I want to him to load me up with dog cum. What do I do? Tell me!" "Get down on your knees Alan!" Luca commanded, "Spread them apart a bit more. Now lean forward. That's it. Scoot around and aim your hole at Dervish. See..., there he goes." I felt the big Greyhound stick his cold nose right on my quivering pucker. He sniffed it repeatedly and then licked it once. He gave me a big long wet lick from where my straps met my jock pouch all the way up my crack and across my hole. I put my chest on the ground and reached back with both hands to spread my cheeks open wider as Dervish lapped faster at my asshole. Then I felt the weight of him as he leapt onto my back and clamped his forelegs around my waist, just above my hips trapping my arms at my sides. The t-shirt went down over the top of my butt, so I wasn't in any danger of getting clawed. And then..., I felt a jerking pull from his clasping legs as his hips started to pump. He hopped and scrambled forward trying to find an opening for his hot canine cock. END OF PART 1, CHAPTER 2