Date: Sun, 24 Oct 2010 06:34:13 -0700
From: Jay roberts <diplomat1501@msn.com>
Subject: "Dude, Your Dog is Gay, Part One" by Jay Roberts   Bestiality

+++Under 18 not authorized...GO.  Over 18, stay dawg.


Neal and I are like an old married couple, though we are both
twenty.  We both room together in the third floor of a railroad
flat and both work for Bruce Gutmiller.

Bruce is a story in himself.  He's the boss of the Extended
Limousine Company.  Bruce is about six foot six, with big
shoulders, bright red hair and a handlebar moustache.  An
imposing figure.

Extended Limousine Company does just that.  We take Cadillacs,
Lincoln Town Cars, even Volvos and saw them through and add a
middle section.

When Bruce does his sales pitch, Neal and I, in the back room,
roar with laughter, it sounds like penis enlargement.

"We take it and add as many inches and you want.  It'll end up
longer and earn you money."

There were four employees in the company, but Neal and I were the
technicians, the other two cleaned up and did routine sanding
etc.

I said that Neal and I were like an old married couple, not
exactly, but because of the rare times that we had sex made it
seem that way.  How we ever hooked up is strange.  We are so
unalike.  Neal is a slob.  His wrinkled torn clothes are only the
beginning.  His area of the room is impassable, but Neal is
always happy, except on that rare occasion that I get nuts and
clean up his side.  "I hate it.  I can't find anything.  Don't do
me any more favors."

Now, in spite of his unkempt look and his constant cursing, Neal
is sexy.  That's what first drew me to him.  Why he likes me is
hard to figure.  I'm a Yale dropout, clean to the point of
obsession, and bit up tight, except when it comes to sex.  I can
really howl up a storm when the time is right.

Oh yes, the gay dog in the title.  Well, about a week ago, I got
up early, before work and went out in my shorts to get the paper.
I'm one of those guys who sleeps in boxer shorts and has the deep
belief that no neighbor sees me in them if I move fast.

I couldn't get the paper because a dog was sitting on it.  A
rusty colored, medium sized dog with the kind of fur that looks
like it needs to be cleaned and pressed.  You know, sticking out
and stuff.  He wagged his tail and, I swear, winked at me.

"What's your story dog?" I asked, not expecting an answer but he
(it was a he with an oversized handy case for it.) Jangled his
neck and caused a metal disc to rattle. I took a look, no help,
it just had BD engraved on it.  No address or telephone number.

I sighed, feeling sorry for the dog, but I had things to do.  I
pulled the paper out from under him and he licked my hand as I
did it, and started to walk back to the house, realizing that I
had displayed my bare chest and feet to the neighbors.

He followed me.

I tried to slip through the door but he slipped in with me and as
I headed up stairs, his nails tap taped behind me.  The beast
needed a manicure.

Back in the room I spied Neal, naked, spread eagle on his back,
his red pubes glinting and his fat cock half hard laying on his
hip.  A nice sight.  I reminded me that I was a little horny
today and I might try to convince him to give me a benefit.

I wasn't the only male whose mouth watered at the sight of the
well formed boy, BD noticed too and put his paws on the edge of
the bed and pulled himself up and began to nuzzle Neal's stuff.

Neal murmured happily and let his cock expand.  His murmured
became a grunt as BD began to lick it soulfully like it was a
salt lick.

At this point, Neal opened his eyes and looked down, expecting to
see my Yale face looking up at him, my long tongue in the middle
of a nice suck fest.  Instead he let out a howl of fear as he
spied a hairy stranger of non-human kind between his legs.

He pulled his legs up to his chest and shouted, "Get out of here.
Scat!  Go home!"  To me he said, "Is this your filthy dog?"

"Not exactly.  He was delivered along with the newspaper."  Then
thinking about it, "Maybe he is paper trained."

"Well there is one thing I know about his, "He's gay.  This dog
is gay."

"Why you say that, Neal.  You made him gay by waving your stuff
at him."

"I did no such thing.  I was fast asleep." Then pointing to the
dog who was slowly walking away, "Look, Look, he walks like a
sissy gay."

Well, it was true.  BD walked or rather sashayed, his rump
undulating. On the way he grabbed a lavender silk pillow that my
mother had donated to our apartment.  He put it down in the
corner and lay curled up on keeping one baleful eye on us.

"Look there," Neal said, He picked the lavender one."

Somehow Neal decided that there was no use making a fuss.  He
called the police and the dog shelter and reported the found dog.
I guess he thought that the owner of BD would call any minute.

Meanwhile I fed BD. He turned out to be picky, wanting only the
best human food and let us know that he required catsup for his
hamburger.

Neal decided that BD stood for Bette Davis.  "He walks into a
room like Davis in her red dress in "Jezebel", so from now on we
called him Davis, I warned Neal not to call him Bette.

Well folks, a week went by and there was no owner claiming our
prima donna.  In some ways, he was cute and very smart, and a
real drama queen.  He'd order us to pet him by barking until we
did, then he's lift his head and almost cat purr.  I told him,
"You are enjoying this too much, it's almost obscene."

Neal groused, "We're stuck with this pansy dog.  Keep him out of
the bedroom, he'd like to organize an orgy, I bet."

Things went along for a few more days, I got no friendly blow
jobs from Neal as he was very inhibited by the dog. Also there
were no calls from the dog's owner.  We were getting used to
having him around for laughs, finally, a peak event occurred.

End Part One