Language: English / Genre:home_sex / Series: Ophelia Press

Love Me, Love My Dog

Gus Stevens

Gus Stevens

Love Me, Love My Dog


When Trudy showed up at my front door that evening I became an instant dog lover.

Don't get me wrong, Trudy is no dog. Far from it.

She batted her big baby-blue eyes at me and it was several seconds before I was able to break away from her gaze and examine the rest of her. What there was wouldn't quit and I saw an instant winner.

Trudy was built so that every last brick was perfectly placed. She was maybe five-four, with blonde hair that could light an absolutely black room. She had the face of an angel and-as I was to discover-the soul and body of a devil. The eyes gave me the message and that figure backed them up. Under her miniskirt lurked the shape of a vamp encased in the skin of a teen-ager.

The reason I became a dog lover was because of Alexander, our German shepherd. Maybe I don't have Alexander to thank, if I keep on going back. Maybe I should thank Amy because she'd never become pregnant.

It all started a few weeks earlier when Amy was complaining one day because we'd been married for going on three years and there were no little Bradys running around the house as living proof.

I immediately volunteered my services for another attempt at baby-making, running my hand down the back of Amy's shorts as she knelt in the grass of our back yard. She jumped a foot, protesting loudly, but I could see the flicker of light in the back of her eyes. She was game, all right.

“I wasn't suggesting that we run into the bedroom this minute,” she said crossly, getting up and brushing at her knees.

“Well I was,” I said.

She made a face, trying to look angry, but it didn't come off. My wife Amy is a damned good-looking girl, even if I do say so. She's a big one at five-eight, with brown hair that caresses with its softness and good smell, hazel eyes that can make me weak in the knees, and a figure that adds up to a very exciting and comfortable roll in the hay about three times a week.