Recently, I wrote of our introduction to animal love. Thank you all for the kind words. The following is a true account of a weekend that will forever stay in our memories. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as we did living it.

My Sister has a farm in East Sussex in England. Only one hundred and eighty acres but situated just outside of Hastings on undulating pastureland. It is mostly laid to agriculture, growing wheat and barley. They have a wooded area of twenty acres, which has been cleared to create bridle paths. A stables and an indoor dressage ring completes the set up.

Living a farming life doesn't allow for much free time and with four children, free time is very much a luxury they rarely can afford. Occasionally though, they can get away on holiday and leave the farm for someone to look after. We have done this once or twice to give them a break. It is quite a change for us too. Coming from London and its busy life to staying on the farm, which is so quiet, is a rest for us and a real pleasure.

Our pleasure was magnified on one occasion when they had gone for two weeks to Florida. A friend of theirs had also gone on holiday and asked them to look after two lurcher dogs. In case this is a strange breed, I will tell you that lurchers are usually a cross between a greyhound and a collie. They are quite common in rural areas and are used to course hares, rabbits or even dear.

These two lurchers, brother and sister, were larger than the average, but had really gentle natures. We were left strict instructions not to allow them to get out of the horse paddock. These two had a habit of running of and disappearing for days at a time. Although not valuable, dogs have a habit of being shot if they are roaming freely around the country and the owner was worried they might run away. We were to look after them for a week until the owner came back to collect them.

After our first couple of days, we noticed that the bitch was not eating very much while the dog seemed to be in a state of excitement. Worried, we called the vet in who told us that the bitch was coming into season and that we should keep the two of them apart. This was not too hard to do. Putting them in separate stalls in the stables. This seemed to work and the dog settled down a bit. Until that night.

We had gone to bed exhausted from the fresh air and the work that had to be done around the farm. It was quite early for us, but we had just about run out of energy. Jock, started to yell and although the stables were quite away from the house, his whining and yips could be heard as if he were in the room with us. I decided to go and see if I could calm him down, otherwise we would be getting little sleep.

He was trying to claw his way out of the stall. Rake marks from his claws had taken off the paint from the stall door. His agitation was very evident as was his mounting excitement. The smell of his sister must have been driving him half mad with desire. At a loss I thought I would bring him into the house and away from the temptation of getting at Jill, his sister.

At last, we managed to get to sleep with the dog on the floor at the foot of the bed. It didn't last too long though before Jock was roaming around the room, softly whimpering. Jenni got up to try and pacify the animal, but to no avail, his need was so great and evident for all to see. Poor thing had a raging hard on that was only going to go down in one way. Stroking him seemed only to unsettle him more. His cock was completely unsheathed and dripping precum all over the floor.

Then it happened. Jenni's hand travelled to his underbelly, a way we used to settle our dog down when he got too excited. She stroked him gently, moving her hand up and down, massaging him. He didn't settle at all, instead he started to hump and became even more excited. She looked at me, silently asking whether she should give him a hand job. Had it been our old dog, I would have said yes straight away. He had been a regular partner in our sex lives, but this was a strange dog and I couldn't be sure he would allow a human to get him off. The decision was taken out of my hands.