MY DOGS I - A Night at the Kennels - Chapters 1-5 - Sex Stories

MY DOGS I - A Night at the Kennels - Chapters 1-5

MY DOGS

PART I: A Night at the Kennels

CHAPTER 1.1 - The Right Dog

“I want a dog”. The thought came out of nowhere while I was working on travel expense reports. My mind wandered from mind-numbing hotel and credit card receipts to our old dog Kenny. Kenny had been my parent’s dog, a Golden Retriever, a beautiful soul, and my playmate for hours and hours when I was little.

I had just moved out at home a few months ago and had a small apartment with my boyfriend. We were… well, I guess “happy” is a bit too much, but “contend” could be the right word. Life was good. We both had jobs. He loved me and I appreciated him. A dog. What was missing from our life - no: my life - was a dog.

I quickly looked up a few breeders and sellers in our town. The prices on their websites were, well, sobering. Then I found a private-run animal shelter, prices there seemed a lot more affordable. My initial thought had been to get a puppy. But a grown dog, not too old - that also sounded good. A dog that’s maybe already trained. A dog that could be my companion and my guard when I went for a late run to the 7-11 through the shadier parts of our town.

I called the number on their website and a lady picked up after the 2nd ring, a hoarse voice “Yeah?”. I told her what I was looking for. “You can come any day, I’m usually here until 7 or 8” - “Great, I’ll see if I can make it this evening or tomorrow. See you then” - “See you then”.

I went back to my travel expenses and went ...

... through stacks of crumpled receipts, sorted out the ones that were obviously not related to travel, entered the straightforward ones into our system, and set aside a few to discuss with our HR guy.

I worked at a small start-up and days there were mostly chaotic and relaxed, stressful and tranquil, loud and quiet, with just the click-click-click of a dozen keyboards audible through our large one-room studio office. I didn’t have any formal training and I couldn’t even say what my real job de***********ion was. I just did everything that could distract software developers from developing software. What kind of software? Something fintech, something micro credits and crypto. I really don’t know. Some devs tried to explain it to me and I just nodded and said “cool”. My only contribution to the thing they were working on: The initial name was “MiCrypt” (for micro and crypto) and I casually mentioned that this sounds a lot like “my crypt”. This was met with long stares, and confused looks - and a week later, our product was called “BlockLoop”. What did BlockLoop stand for? No idea and I didn’t care. But I still felt that not having “my crypt” on my resume was a good thing.

Technically, my job was 9-to-5 and I got paid for 9-to-5. But in reality, it was anything between 7 and 11 to 6, 7, or 8 at night. I did enjoy the freedom to come in late on some days when I had errands to run or just got stuck on my morning coffee. I hated evenings, though. I got most of my work done by 5. And ...