One summer, I was house sitting for a friend in Maine. The house was near the ocean, a large Victorian-style home, situated on its own private expanse of beach. Each morning I would rise before daybreak and sit on a rock near the water, watching the sun ascend into the pink morning sky. The tide would steal in, and soon tiny waves would be breaking on the shore, accompanying the echoing cries of the seagulls that swooped and dived into the water below. It was nature's unorchestrated symphony, a masterpiece of sight and sound.

The sun had just assumed its comfortable position in the heavens, and after unsuccessfully combing the tide pools for sand dollars, I decided to take a run on the beach. I was wearing a gray fleece sweatsuit to stave off the chilly morning air, but the combination of exercise and the warming temperature made me far too warm. It was still early, and I saw no one on the mostly private beach, so I peeled off my sweatshirt and tossed it onto the sand. I would pick it up on my way back to the house. I continued my leisurely trot in a black lace bra and sweatpants, a very incongruous vision. I ran about half a mile before heading back to the house.

Along the way, a strange dog appeared from nowhere and ran alongside me. He seemed harmless and it was nice to have company for a change. When we reached my sweatshirt, I bent to pick it up and he grabbed one of the sleeves between his teeth. A game of tug of war ensued. "Let go, you mangy mutt!" I cursed him. Actually, he was far from mangy. His fur was smooth and sleek, a pure white like the clouds above. His ice blue eyes were expressive and they seemed to be pleading with me for affection. "You win!" I said, letting him have the sweatshirt. He ran a few yards, then looked back to see if I would follow. I chased him for a bit and then plopped down on the sand, tired and sweaty. He dropped the shirt and came over to me. With is pink tongue, he licked the salty sweat from my neck. Normally I was pretty indifferent to dogs, but this one's beauty and spirit were appealing. I scratched him behind the ears as he continued to lick my neck with his sandpapery tongue.

It was more sensuous than sexual, but my endorphins were still charged from my run, and I felt that familiar desire to caress myself. I scanned the area carefully and saw no one. I removed my sweatpants and using them as a pillow, laid back into the sand. I reached beneath my panties and started caressing my slit, sliding my fingers in the crease and drawing the wetness upward to my pulsating clitoris. I stroked it in little circles. The dog started to lick my nipples then, saturating the fabric of my bra with his abundant saliva. He licked one and then the other, like a considerate human lover, wanting to maximize his partner's pleasure. My nipples swelled into two tawny points on my chest and I moaned as my hand moved at a frantic pace.

I opened my eyes then and they locked with his. Somehow that shared glance seemed to eradicate the communication barrier between dogs and humans, and I knew what he wanted. Quite simply, the dog wanted to fuck me. He stood up and placing his paws on my shoulder began to hump my arm, affirming my hypothesis.

I had read about it before and even seen pictures of it. And Although I had never actually considered doing it, I was an open-minded woman with a wide range of sexual predilections and quickly resolved to relish this new experience. I unhooked the black lace bra and piled it beside me with the matching panties. I spread my legs and pulled the lips of my vulva wide apart. "Go to it, boy." I whispered. He sniffed me for a moment, as though he were a wine connoisseur savoring the fine bouquet before indulging in a drink. Then he drank. His tongue was longer than any man's or woman's I had ever known, and it seemed to reach all the way to my womb. I thought fleetingly that it was like being filled with a warm, wriggling snake. He needed no guidance to find my clitoris. The little button stood like a soldier at attention, waiting to be addressed. I looked down to watch his white head bobbing between my legs and that sinfully long pink tongue caressing me. I thought of all the dogs I had ever had in my life and groaned at the thought of what I had missed!

I could no longer resist the temptation to feel him inside me. I considered the possible positions and realized that doggy style (so aptly named!) would be the easiest and most pleasurable way to proceed. There was something so subservient about being on my hands and knees offering my cunt to a dog. I was a human, supposedly superior, yet I was putting myself in a position of submission to this beast. This concept heightened my excitement.

Obviously experienced, he climbed onto my back and his swollen red meat immediately located its mark. As he pressed the tip against my opening, it opened to his cock like a blooming flower, its petals unfolding and inviting him in to taste its nectar. He filled me with his organ, humping my backside, his forelegs wrapped around my middle. I felt a sharp stabbing as the end of his penis made contact with my cervix. The wind whipped my long tawny hair into my eyes and I closed them, completely losing myself in the experience. We both made instinctual, raw, animal noises. I ceased being a 90s career woman, used to wearing tailored suits and giving orders, and was instead a dog's bitch. I grunted and growled, panted and moaned, as he pushed in and out. He filled me to the hilt, and I waited expectantly for the knot. My mind had no sooner brought forth this thought when I felt the knot squeezing into me. It reminded me of the time my boyfriend had added one finger at a time, distending my vaginal opening until he fit his entire fist inside me. The knot was like a fist, testing the elasticity of my skin. My canine lover pushed a little harder and the knot was inside me then. I climaxed immediately, crying out in delirious delight. He came with me, his dog cock coating the inside of my tunnel with warm sticky dog juice.

Suddenly I felt a drop of something wet on my back. "Shit, it's raining!" I thought. The dog had turned around so that we were butt to butt, and I realized I could be here another ten or fifteen minutes while the knot went down. I looked up at the sky and then screamed in shock. A young police officer stood before me, his navy blue trousers around his ankles and his deflating cock in his hand. He blushed and smiled.

"Someone reported a possible disturbance in this area," he said. "I didn't see anything. Did you?" he asked. I shook my head, realizing my awkward position. I was naked, with a dog locked inside of me, committing the illegal act of bestiality.

"No," I said, smiling and shaking my head. "I haven't seen anything unusual."

"I'm Tom," he said, offering his hand. "I'm Cindy," I replied, reaching to shake his, which left me precariously balanced on three limbs. The dog pulled out of me with a loud plop and bounded off, without so much as a kiss goodbye. The officer and I burst into peals of uncontrolled laughter at the bizarreness of the situation.

"I'm off duty in a few hours," he said. "Would you like to have lunch?"

"That'd be great," I said, as I stood up and brushed the sand off my body. I wiped up the slop between my legs with my panties and put my sweatsuit on again.

"May I keep them?" he asked, pointing to the panties.

"As evidence?" I asked. He nodded.

"After all, I need something to show for the past hour." I handed him the panties and walked back to the house singing "Oh What a Beautiful Morning."