Doggy Style.
Warm summer nights are such a treat and make me feel like a puppy in the park as I bounce from bar to bar, looking for play mates and Scooby Snacks. I found one in this little bar called the Men's Room. It was a girl, a pretty girl, and the only girl in the place. We bonded over David Bowie on the juke box.
She was right handed and had no visible tatoos. She was really great at flipping her voluminous hair and making porn star faces. She was increbibly curvy, too. She looked kind of like a mature, intelligent Britney Spears, if one can imagine that. She also remided me of the metal Gold, because she was at once captivating, shiney, sublime, and intriguing. And my, what a treasure chest! Her voice was swashbuckling, too, which appeals to the pirate within me.
After two rum and cokes, one of the most perfect drinks ever, she suggested we go to some nearby house that she was house-sitting and dog-sitting and plant-watering. So off we went, into the warm night where we both howled at the moon. She said all that howling and all that rum made her feel a little queezy. I asked her if she ate, and she said she had hot dogs from the nearby 7-11. No wonder she was feeling nauseous! We contemplated why they were named hot dogs since to our knowledge there are no canine componets to the food. In no time we were on the front steps of the old Victorian home she was watching.
There were lots of stairs and I admired how her ass looked as she ascended the steps, like two pitbulls fighting in a canvas bag. When we got to the top, finally, she unlocked the door and two strange dogs leaped out and started smelling her butt, probably thinking there actually were two pitbulls in her jeans. The dogs were extremely excited. One was a gigantic black poodle and one was a little furry white mutt. The contrast of size and color made me laugh, and the way they interacted was kind of like Laurel and Hardy, but in this case the little one was clearly the boss. Ah, how great everything looked at that moment! I was going to get some action and we were going to screw doggy-style in a stranger's house and live in a domestic fantasy for a night. But then things took a turn for the worst.
We had a brief but amazingly sincere make out session, which was cut short due to the happy Laurel and Hardy dogs who wanted to eat. We contemplated feeding them hot dogs but chose dog food in the end. They attacked their meal with a ferocious fury that only wolf relatives are capable of doing. They were hungry! And I guess they ate too fast, because then the big black one barfed all over the floor. Vomit, especially the scent, makes me feel sick, whether it is human or animal, but what really grossed me out was when the little white bossy dog, without missing a beat, began to devour the big one's barf! He was eating the barf with the same voracious appetite that he ate his food! I couldn't believe it! But then, to my horror, the girl, who shared my disgust but lacked my self control, promptly projectile vomitted all over the hard wood floor. Then the little white mutt, like a kid in a candy store, ran over to start scarfing down her recyled 7-11 hot dogs, pureed with two Rum and Cokes, and something green. He just couldn't get enough.
I could barely believe my eyes, and, with my hand over my mouth, I backed out of the room, in extreem shock, dismayed and disgusted. I felt so sick, and confused, but I managed to mumble, "I gotta go, honey,... because I can't... I can't... I ... I just can't." I ran down the stairs repeating the words, "I can't," using every ounce of mental strength to choke down my own vomit, until finally I escaped into the night air, howling at the moon.
One of the harder things about being a slut is when things don't turn out the way you thought. I didn't even get very far, and although I could have stayed, the thought of the little white vomit eating dog extinguished any fire of desire that I had. So much for doing it doggy-style!
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