Funny how things work out. You grow up reading books and fairy tales, watching Disney movies, and you’re pretty sure you’re going to have a summer romance, to fall in blissful mutual love with someone dark and handsome and live happily ever after. Nobody tells you it could turn out to be a big, brainy border collie with a weird back-door predilection. And yet here I am, sitting on a towel with a slow stream of collie cream leaking out my ass, while I type out my thoughts. I’m not at all dissatisfied with things, it just isn’t what you expect, exactly, when you’re growing up. You know?

My name’s irrelevant, and you’ll figure I’m just making it up, but I’ll put it in anyway. I’m Amy. I guess I’m writing to work things out, or get them off my chest, to a certain extent, and it feels more real if I put my name on it. My fella is the unimaginatively-named Lad. It’s a flexible name. Sometimes he’s Laddie, or Laddie Boy, Laddie Bucko, Lad-old-Pup, or any number of other variations. He responds to all of them. He’s not a large dog by any means, but he’s big for his breed. He’s mostly black, a deep glossy black, with a white blaze on his chest, a little more white on his forehead and behind his ears, and a couple of spotty white socks. We keep that fur nice and clean and silky despite his uncanny ability to find mud, burrs, and various farmyard byproducts. Right now, he’s busily patroling the grounds. When he decides he has a job to do, he devotes himself to it very single-mindedly.

I picked Lad out as a pup, and as he grew up, we spent hours together -- many hours working on obedience and tricks, and many hours just in each other’s company, walking around together as I did chores, brushing and petting him, or just sitting quietly. When you spend that much time together, working together, playing together, and touching each other, you just bond. He slid right into the role of “best friend” and I never really thought about the fact that petting and hugging him, or kissing his forehead and muzzle, were things that I wouldn’t do with a normal friend, not if we meant to stay just friends. They were normal things to do with a dog, all a part of the process of bonding and growing close together. I wouldn’t have ever described the process as “falling in love”, but by the time a year had gone by, I certainly knew that I loved him, and I felt loved. He filled a big place in my heart. I missed him and thought of him during the day when I was at school, and looked forward to seeing him when I got home.

The timing worked out so that he was growing into his maturity just around the same time I was. I started seeing flashes of pink under his belly every once in a while, and I felt some growing curiosity about that part of him. I don’t know how to account for the fact that one day, when I was petting him, curiosity boiled over and I reached down under his belly and stroked him along his sheath. First, it was a couple of light touches, just “innocently” brushing against it while I scratched his belly fur, but then I took it fully in my hand, and stroked. I felt him swell almost immediately, pulled my hand back, then reached in again and rubbed some more. He felt good and warm in my hand. His hindquarters started twitching, and the big swell at the base felt really interesting. Even though I knew a lot about dogs, I hadn’t known to expect that and wasn’t entirely sure what it was. I wrapped my hand around and felt the mass of it. I pushed the sheath back a bit and saw a few inches of pink, saw a little spurt of liquid, and then I got nervous about what we were doing and took my hand away. I casually scratched his neck and ears for a minute or two more and then walked away, trying not to look suspicious (although, if anyone saw me, I probably looked exactly like someone trying very hard not to look suspicious).

As I lay in bed that evening, though, the feeling replayed in my head, and I lay in the dark with my eyes closed, but my brain still agitated. I didn’t get to sleep easily, and I woke up early with the thoughts still racing around. And so, the next day at around the same time, I called him over to walk with me. We walked around behind a building where we weren’t visible from the house, and I didn’t make much pretense about why we were there. I reached down and started stroking right away, and I felt him swell in response immediately. That big bulge started to fill my hand up, and he started thrusting emphatically. I thought he must be feeling pretty good, and I liked giving him that feeling, so I kept stroking. The sheath slipped back, and I got my first view of his entire cock, knot and all. It looked strange to me, but it was a part of Lad, so it seemed sort of OK to look and to touch. He was jetting out spurts of liquid now. Some of it splashed his chest fur, and some of it went on the ground. I held on to him, stroked him gently, and watched him squirt for a long time. I knew I wasn’t doing anything all that different than what the AI tech would do when he takes care of a bull or stallion, but deep down I also knew I was feeling more than that. I was feeling turned on.

This quickly became a daily routine for us. My afternoon chores gave me a good reason to be in the barn for a while every day, and so every day Lad would get a hand job. I got used to how he liked to be touched, and was rewarded with more enthusiastic thrusting and humping. He got used to the routine and would zip over to our usual spot as soon as we went in the barn, and look at me expectantly, calling me over. Thoughts of dog cock started coming to me all through the rest of the day, most of all before bed time, waking up in the morning, and riding the school bus home, when I knew I’d be doing “chores” soon. It hit almost all my senses. I could imagine the pink length of it sliding out bright against his belly fur, the hot touch, the liquid squirting against my hand, Lad’s heavy breathing in the quiet of the barn, and his warm doggy smell overpowering the background smell of hay and twine and dust. Every time it came to mind I’d get wrapped up in the fantasy and every time, more and more turned on. Frustratingly so.

Usually I just bent down and reached under, and sometimes I’d kind of curl my free arm around his chest, too, and he’d grab that and hump against it. I liked that feeling; it was more exciting when he seemed to really get into it. But one afternoon, probably an early October day, I decided to lie down and slide underneath him. With my head up under his chest, and his hind legs straddling my waist, I was looking straight up at dog dick, and when I jerked him, the first jets splashed out onto my chest (getting my shirt wet) and onto my neck. I was holding him near the base, he was starting to thrust a little bit, and when I raised my head up just a little, he was aimed right at my face. What a view! It’s so weird, I don’t know why I’m wired like this, but I loved how it looked, I loved the feeling of the spray against my skin, and I wanted more. I raised up a little higher, scooted forward, and held the tip right in front of my mouth. Jets of dog cum -- precum, I guess -- were splashing off my face and dripping off now, and as he thrust and jerked around, the stuff was flying everywhere. I was nervous but I was also absolutely determined that I wanted to swallow him. My lips parted, I guided him into my mouth, and there we were. I couldn’t pretend anymore that this was anything but sex. I wasn’t just jerking him off; my face was getting dog-fucked. He felt the warmth around him, and my hand still around the base, and he humped like mad, not too deep, thankfully (I could control that with my hand), but I had all I could handle just to hold my position and keep from getting jabbed the wrong way as he fucked my face. One part of my brain thought it tasted weird, but a deeper part of me wanted more, and more, and more. He felt so powerful, hammering away at me. I’m not sure how long it lasted. Probably not long. Time went kind of fuzzy for me. He slowed down and stood still, but kept filling my mouth for a long time after, and I gulped and gulped.

Eventually I slid out from under, looking like a mess, and I couldn’t stand it; I unbuttoned my jeans and started rubbing myself. Even though I’d just been underneath my dog enthusiastically sucking him off, I was somehow even more nervous all of a sudden that someone would come out and stumble on me with my pants down. But I needed some relief. Lad, who had been curled around licking himself, came over and stuck his nose in where my fingers were and started licking me too. It was a swamp down there, and he got his tongue right in. I lifted up my hips and pushed against him, still rubbing myself while he stood over me. He gave me a few long, fast licks, then lay down and wedged his head between my legs and seriously went to work. Remember I said he really devotes himself to a job? I spread myself for him and squirmed around and he licked every bit of me. It was the first time I’d ever felt anything like that at all, and before long I was seeing stars. I was holding in the noises because I didn’t want anyone to hear anything suspicious, but when he tongued over my asshole a couple of times, I yelped (I was surprised, and couldn’t help it). He wouldn’t let up, either. Finally I had all I could stand, and I rolled away onto my side. He walked around to look at me, like he was checking that the job was done ok. Yeah, wow, thanks, boy. I scratched him a bit (which he likes, especially the chest fur) and gave him a big hug (which he doesn’t like so much, but tolerates) and then just buried my face in his chest fur for a while and breathed in dog while I cooled down. Then: jeans zipped up, back to the house, straight to the bedroom, avoid eye contact with anyone else until dinner time. Also, avoid eye contact and mumble answers to any questions during dinner as well.

The next morning was a Saturday. I went out for a walk after breakfast and just a few minutes after I stepped outside, Lad came up zooming up to me, interrupting whatever he’d been up to earlier. I ruffled his head and we walked for a while quietly, and then he started pestering me -- nudging me, circling around me, backing away and giving me a look, coming back in to nudge me again. He backed up and gave me a bark and all of a sudden I was pretty sure it meant “follow me” so I stepped in his direction and sure enough he turned and started leading, checking back over his shoulder to make sure I was coming along. When I realized he was leading us to the barn, I knew what was up. I said, “Hell yeah, Laddie, let’s go,” and we were both off at a trot. We dashed in the barn, I went over to a pile of lumber where I could sit comfortably a couple of feet off the ground, and I hiked my jeans down. I was still nervous about getting caught bare-assed with the dog, but I knew mom was in town for errands that would take a couple of hours, and dad was working on fence, which would keep him busy ‘til lunchtime. I slid my hips forward and Lad was right there, muzzle in between my legs, ears back, licking ... not frantically, like you might think, but very determinedly. All over. All I had to do was lean back and enjoy and let out some encouraging noises when he hit the really good spots. Good old Lad figured the game out and soon I was drifting away on waves of doggy pleasure. Everything in my body seemed to get loose and relaxed. I remembered the quick ass-lick I’d gotten the day before ... that had been pretty good, and I wanted a change-up from the places he’d been licking so I pulled my knees back a little, scooted forward, and rocked my hips back to see if he’d go there again. Yep. Dog tongue ran up my crack starting almost at the small of my back. I reached down and pulled my cheeks apart a bit -- I felt so lewd with my legs back in the air and my ass spread, but I was mostly past caring about it at that particular moment. Lad got the message and tongued across my asshole, then pushed his tongue right up in it. Another weird feeling, but I wanted to keep going, and it seemed like he did too. He had an astonishing ability to get that tongue right up my ass. I rubbed myself up front while he reamed my backside out and I had one more really mind-blowing moment as he went particularly deep, and I pressed myself really hard at the same time. Then I had to say “enough, Lad!” and pull myself back from him.

I hopped down and checked him out and, no surprise, his dick was out, hard and dripping. I slid under, took him in my mouth, and ran my lips right up to the knot, which meant I had really quite a lot of dog dick poking at the back of my throat for a moment. I just wanted to swallow all of it that I could. But I pulled back toward the tip and gave him a little squeeze behind the knot, propping myself up with my other hand and bracing as he dug in and got his hindquarters into it giving me another hard, fast doggy facefuck. The wild part didn’t last too long, then he relaxed and just squirted into me over and over. I was a little more conscious than I’d been the last time, and at a certain point I thought I noticed a change in the taste. Didn’t matter. Lad was cumming in me, and I was sucking him all down, until my belly felt full of it. At that point I wanted him in me, really in me, coupled as hard and tight as we could get, but I was starting to get nervous about getting caught. I pulled up my pants to make sure at least I wouldn’t get caught literally bare-assed, then settled back into sucking. Lad, for his part, mostly just stood there happily squirting while I swallowed and swallowed. I pulled back and let a few jets squirt my face, just for the feeling of it. Things kind of slowly wound down; I gave him some pets and composed myself and we walked nonchalantly outside.

I was dreaming of getting down on all fours under him, but for quite some time, it wasn’t to be. I was hungry for it, really hungry, but I was nervous, too. I wanted a good stretch of time when I could be sure of no interruptions, and there just wasn’t any opportunity. I took him in my mouth any chance I could get, and lord knows how much collie sperm the horny furball hosed down my throat. It was a generous daily deposit plus a few early morning bonuses when I happened to get up in time for it. The more I had of him, the more I wanted. I loved having my face buried in the soft fur under his belly, totally surrounded by the smell of him, and when he jetted into my mouth, I felt full of him inside and covered by him outside.

We actually gave even that a rest for a couple of weeks, though, when we had an important obedience trial coming up. I was, not without reason, worried that this new twist in our relationship might mess things up when we had to compete together, even though we still practiced every day and I hadn’t seen any signs that he was anything other than his usual, eager-to-please self. Less rationally, I had a fear that I would step into the ring with him and suddenly everyone would just know what we had been doing together: “Oh my god! She’s absolutely full of dog cum! It’s practically oozing out of her! Disqualified!” I knew this was totally ridiculous and could not actually happen, and yet it was still hard to shake the image.

Long story short: We totally aced the trial, and he earned his next title, which we’d been working on for a long time. We got many compliments, and nobody appeared to suspect how much “training time” was spent with his dick in my face. Not only that, miracle of miracles, the very same day afforded me an excellent opportunity as the rest of the family was taking a trip to an auction, but I’d arranged to stay home by myself after the obedience trial and take care of the place until everybody got back the next day. I’d love to tell you that we just went out to the barn and fucked our happy little brains out for the rest of the day, and it’s not like I didn’t try. We got out there, we fooled around for a while, I got down in position and got his paws up on me, and he couldn’t find the target. I mean, he’s a smart boy, and eager to please, and he knew he was supposed to be thrusting in that position. I just don’t think he had any idea what the object really was. He thrust, poked, and jabbed everywhere. A few times, he got the tip in me, including a couple of surprise jabs in the ass. But he never drove it home, he just kept poking around randomly, and eventually hopping off. I tried to guide him, but still, no luck. I was sweaty and frustrated and decided to call it quits before I got really impatient with him for something that wasn’t his fault. I let him lick me out, which he was happy to do. That was nice, but not really satisfying, and after that I just mostly lazed around for the rest of the evening, while he busied himself with his usual routine outside. We tried again the next morning. Same result.

Well, when we’re trick training, I use a clicker. For complex tricks, it’s the only way I’ve found that’s precise enough to let him know exactly when he’s done the right thing. He’s super tuned-in to it. So, after lunch, feeling both determined and a bit ridiculous, I took the dog and the clicker to the barn. After playing, petting, and generally frisking around for a while, I slipped my pants off and got on all fours again. I figured if I gave him a click when he hit the mark, after a few times, he’d get the idea.

He was eager as ever, happy to put his paws around me and start humping. I wriggled and squirmed, trying to line things up while also keeping ready to react fast and give him a click at the right moment. God, how I wanted it in me. I was achingly frustrated. But, like I said, determined. So I kept trying to find the right angle or height or whatever would make it go.

And suddenly, it went. He hit the hole. Within a split second, three things happened: I hit the clicker reflexively, he pulled right out again, and then it registered in my mind that the hole he’d hit had been my ass. I didn’t have a lot of time to process that fact because he hit it again just another fraction of a second later. In the ass again, just the tip. There wasn’t any time to think things over; I gave him a click for it. And that, I decided was enough for now. For Lad, two clicks was enough to get his brain going, and I wanted to break off on a positive note rather than getting thoroughly frustrated with him again. So I had him hop off me, and we horsed around, just playing for a while. He accompanied me as I took care of some the errands I was supposed to be doing.

No longer in the heat of the moment, I could think things over. I decided I wasn’t bothered too much by the prospect of taking him in the ass. It’s a pleasantly sensitive spot for me; I had occasionally fingered myself there ever since I was old enough to start figuring out what felt nice, and I had come to enjoy a thorough asslicking as a regular part of my playtime with Lad -- one of the best parts, in fact. The feeling when his cock-tip went in there had been intriguing. It was easy to imagine a bit more going a bit deeper and feeling even nicer. Maybe really nice indeed. The idea started to percolate.

Lad’s brain had evidently been turning things over too, and he was starting to pester me in his, “Hey, let’s go do stuff together!” way. There’s no way to know for sure, but I felt pretty certain that he’d been working over in his brain what the clicker had been telling him. Now he wanted to get back to “work.” Well, OK.

I wasn’t experienced in these things at all; Lad was the only partner I’d ever had, so far as that went. But I wasn’t dumb enough to give him a shot at my ass without lubing up first. We happened to have some good lube around for perfectly legitimate veterinary reasons, and I surreptitously carried some in the house and got my -- well, there’s no delicate way to say “I got my ass all slippery,” but that’s what I did. Reaching around and getting a finger in there is just awkward and unsatisfying; it’s not enough, I wanted more, I wanted Lad, I wanted to get pounded, not fingered.