I Only Cum When A Dog Watches - Sex Stories

I Only Cum When A Dog Watches

... strangers again and not in an exciting way. I found it was more gratifying on my own. Eventually, we ended up in separate bedrooms, and then…”

He shudders a little. I grip his hand.

“Even when divorce is necessary,” I say, my voice a soft whisper, “It still feels as if half of you has been surgically removed.”

I will tell you of my own sadness and how even now it slows the world down, with my heart seeming to take the strain of it. I will explore again the devastating cause of an unwelcome chill that hints at death. I will explain that it’s because other people go on without you whether you’re alive or not.

I will tell you of that, but not now.

But hinting at an understanding brings Ginger closer to me, relaxes him in a way I can feel in his body.

“Yes!” He kisses the back of my head.

I can smell us both, the sweet mix of it, sweat and juice and hormones adrift over the debris, like soft mist above the site of an ancient battle. Ginger turns my head and kisses my mouth, careful and tender. He seems reluctant to look in my eyes, as if he has already said too much. Is he worried he will start crying?

My neck begins to crick. Gently I disentangle and we both lie on our backs with my head on his chest. I can feel it rise, and the steady thump of his heart.

He takes a juddering breath.

“The sale of our house was a nightmare, and so was the purchase of this one. It all took more than a year, so I stayed with my brother. He’s only got a small place, so ...

... I slept on a fold-down bed in the living room with Jack, his springer spaniel.” Ginger tenses. “This isn’t a bestiality story.”

“I didn’t think it was.”

Ginger breathes out.

“Something about that loyal, friendly presence, that lack of judgement, helped me. My brother was kind to put me up, but we’ve never been close. My friends are in different cities and countries now, and for a long time, the only person I wanted to be with was my wife. But she was gone.

“The only company I had was this dog, who was about six by then. And those nights helped me get through it all, once I stopped crying.

“I mean, I was under the duvet, it’s not like he saw anything. But he knew something was going on as I looked at pictures of girls like you on my phone and wanked like a piston for hours.”

“Good for you.”

I sense him smile, and he strokes my chest.

“It got so that his company became part of it – again, not physically, but… There’s that kindness that dogs have, that beautiful wisdom in their eyes. We don’t deserve them, really.”

“No, we don’t…”

“A lot of my lost love ended up going on that furry goon with his silly floppy ears and his black and white coat. It felt as if I was radiating excess love, unwanted love, love I couldn’t help making, and he was somehow soaking it up. It made what was essentially a lonely activity into something warm and comforting. I genuinely think that dog got me through it all.”

He sighs again.

“Eventually, this place completed, ...