I was on one of my daily walks. Long walks. I'd walk for hours on end, almost every day. Not from the beginning, though. In the beginning I'd stay in bed with the curtains drawn, numbed by sorrow. Mourning my wife's death, and feeling sorry for myself having lost my job which had meant a lot to me. My wife was driving our car, when a truck coming from the opposite direction had blown a front wheel tyre. Annie was killed instantly and I had lost part of my left arm and suffered a few other injuries. I was still in hospital when my kind boss visited me. He had realised that I should not be able to continue my work with an artificial arm, and he had persuaded the company to grant me a most favourable pension, although they had absolutely no part in my accident.
52-year-old widower, out of a job I had loved, and no real future. I slipped down into a deep, black hole. Stayed in bed most of the time, going out only when I had absolutely nothing left in the fridge. My kind doctor offered me anti depressant, but I would have nothing of it. A sorrow numbed with medicine will return the moment you stop drugging yourself.
Six months later I was out to buy a few necessities. It was a fine summer's day, so I walked home via our harbour, which was quite a detour. I actually liked it, so the next day I took another walk, a little longer. When winter came I had gotten so used to long walks that I just continued. A few days with snowstorms I stayed at home, but apart from that, I'd often be gone for hours. When spring came around I would pack a little bag with a thermos of coffee and a sandwich, climb one of the busses going out of town and then get off somewhere along one of the country roads. From there I'd walk back home, often spending 6 or 7 hours doing so. When high summer arrived I took to the woods. The quiet cool shade and the beauty of flowers and wildlife were balsamic to my soul, and gradually I began returning to life. I avoided Sundays, though. Too many families out for a Sunday walk. But the weekdays were lovely. Especially in a rather remote privately owned forest, which started about 8 kilometres from my home. Hardly any people there even on Sundays.
On a warm, sunny Wednesday in late July I had left the path, walked on through some low bushes and arrived at a very pretty secluded opening with a lot of flowers. Close to the edge of this opening I found a wind felled tree in the shade, ideal as a seat while I had my lunch and a cup of coffee. It also offered a nice view of the flowers and butterflies. I had just finished my sandwich and was enjoying the coffee when I heard somebody coming through the bushes on the other side of the small opening. It turned out to be a smallish, slim woman, followed closely by a beautiful Collie. At first I did not make myself known, as I thought she was just passing through the opening. Then she unhooked the leash from the dog, unfolded a small blanket and sat down among the flowers. For a little while the dog nosed around in the opening and then it returned to the woman.
Suddenly the whole situation changed, and I felt it was too late to show I was there. I felt sure she would not see me, as leaves covered me. When the dog returned to her, she threw her arms round his neck and cuddled him. Then she leaned back on her elbows and let her knees fall apart. As if it was a thing they had done many times before, the dog walked in between her legs, pushed her yellow dress upwards with his nose, and started lapping at her pussy. I was terribly intrigued by this sight, and now it was definitely too late to show I was there. She had a happy smile on her face while she patted the dog's head and mumbled little reassuring words to him. Suddenly she patted his side, and the dog retreated, turned round to stand beside her, and then he stuck his nose back to her pussy across her belly.
I could not very well see what she was doing to him, so I leaned forward. I saw her hand reach up to play with his cock, which excited me no end. It was something I had never seen or dreamed of. Actually I was so concentrated on the erotic sight in front of me that I did not pay attention to my thermos. I happened to push it and with a clattering noise it tumbled on the trunk and then down to the ground. Immediately the dog lifted his head and barked. I knew I had been spotted, and in order to prevent any further trouble I stepped out into the opening and said I was sorry I had disturbed them, and that I would leave as soon as I had packed up my little bag. The woman let out a little scared whimper and the dog stood 'en garde' close to her.
"Never fear, dear. I shall do you no harm. I was having my lunch when you came, and I didn't want to scare you. And now I have scared you. I'm so sorry. Excuse me, please."
She put a slender arm round the dog's neck and began to cry. I went down on my knees, about a meter away in order not to scare her. "Look, now I've made you cry. I'm so sorry. A pretty girl like you shouldn't cry." I pulled my handkerchief out of my pocket and handed it to her. "Here, dear. Wipe your eyes. There's no need for you to cry."
She let her arm stay round the dog's neck, reached out with the other and took the offered handkerchief. While her crying stilled she dried her eyes a couple of times. In a timid low voice she said: "I'm so terribly embarrassed. What I was doing is so weird and forbidden. You shouldn't have seen it. You must think I'm horrible."
"I think nothing of the kind, dear. You are a lovely, young woman, and I have no idea why you are doing this. But I can assure you that I'm not at all shocked or repulsed."
"Really? You don't think I'm horrible?"
"Not at all. If I go back to fetch my thermos, would you share a cup of coffee with me? Then we can talk. I haven't talked to another human being for nearly a year."
She looked at me with her big shiny eyes. "Oh, yes, let's have coffee."
I poured her a cup, and one for myself in the lid. Gradually our conversation got going. She told about herself and I told her about my wife and my job. Her tale was a sad one. A harsh childhood with unrelenting, religious parents had zapped her of confidence; lots of punishment and no love. Her teenage years had been even worse, because her insecurity made her an easy target of ridicule and persecution. All the time she felt like an ugly outsider, so of course she looked like one. She had had only two boyfriends, and she had had no luck there, either. All they had wanted was to exploit her, and the second one even beat her very often.
We talked and talked. Once I looked at my watch and saw it was nearly six o'clock.
"The first time ever that I felt loved, was when I bought Caro." She patted the dog's head while she said so, and he looked up to her, almost with a smile. "I felt he loved me for who I was. And one day, when he licked the drops off my tummy as I came out of the shower, he also showed me that sex could be good. At the same time I knew it was perverted and a great sin. The worst beating I ever got from my father was when I was 8 years old. Our dog had sniffed me under my skirt and I let him do it. I was beaten black and blue, and then my father shot the dog. So when Caro did something similar, I was in a terrible turmoil. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't help it, I let him do it."
"Rest assured. I'm not going to beat you. I think it was wonderfully exciting to watch you two."
"Really? You were not repulsed?"
"On the contrary. For the first time since my wife died I felt excited. You two were so beautiful, and I'm not ashamed to tell you how hard I became."
For the first time I heard her laugh. "Then I'm not ashamed to tell you how wet I was."
I decided to risk it all. "If you want to try again, I'd love to hold your head in my lap."
.... There is more of this story ...