What follows is a story from Nevyn (me, you fools!) involving sex with animals. If this offends then do not read any further! You only have yourself to blame, you can close your eyes at any stage. I make no excuses or apologies for the following.

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Mmm. Listen to the quiet sussuration of rain on the tile roof; a comfortable sound in the warmth of the lounge. The fire has burned down now, only the embers flaring briefly to life when the wind outside causes a draft in the fireplace. Lightning is flickering on the hills to the east; a reminder of the storm that passed over here a few hours ago, and the unpredictable illumination compliments the glow of the fireplace, and the cool light from this laptop computer. The candles that were burning before are just pools of wax now.

I'm feeling very relaxed. The house around me is radiating a beautiful sense of contentment and fulfillment. Upstairs five bodies are weary, and happy, asleep. I'll join them in a moment; 2:00am is a bloody silly time to be typing away at a word-processor. Still, the story won't let me rest until it's on paper, so I'll persevere and write it while the emotions are still real.

Pizza, red wine, good company, and a spa-pool. House rules:- no clothes to be worn in the pool.

Saturday evening, Janene and Darryl came over to watch videos and christen the spa-pool. They were armed with a nice bottle of Cabernet Merlot, and 'Cat People', the video. Nothing can compare to the throaty bass of David Bowie's theme smiting the air through an intimidating sound system. 'Dial-a- Dinos' pizza arrived as scheduled: 7:30pm. The television had been hauled outside with the speakers from the amplifier, and the evening had become dark quickly. We all stripped naked and quickly piled into the spa-pool to avoid the crisp, late winter air.

The best scene from the movie is where Natasha Kinski is tied to the bed, the camera angle is from directly above, looking down on her luscious naked body. The hero, who is tying her up, spreads her legs just that little bit more, for the camera; very tasty. And then he fucks her. Now you and I both know that she turns into a panther here, and that she is helplessly tied to the bed. I KNOW he fucks her again. Who would miss an opportunity like that, right?

Around 9:30ish the sky was beginning to turn black-on- velvet with clouds, and the slight breeze picked up. It was too unpleasant to remain outside, so we hastily picked up the entertainment and headed indoors just as the first spatterings of rain began to speckle the cobblestones.

I started the fire, and dimmed the lounge lights, and the four of us sprawled out on cushions in a semi-circle around the flickering warmth. We were all wearing naught but bathrobes. Darryl deftly fashioned a joint to pass around. The mellow buzz it produced complimented the light-headedness of the wine so that we were all relaxed and at ease in the glow of each others company. The conversation flowed and ebbed, drifting from topic to topic; briefly alighting on one subject before flitting to the next.

A momentary bright flash of light followed a couple of seconds later by a deep rumble meant the storm was building up to greater strength, and the rain went suddenly from a gently hiss on the tile roof to an undulating roar.

Hamlet, our Great Dane dog, padded quickly into the lounge looking sheepish. No doubt the storm was making him nervous, and he had sought us out for the reassurance. Xanth, our Mastiff bitch, was probably sleeping through it in the kitchen. Hamlet stretched out his front paws and lowered his front half to the floor between myself and Darryl. Eventually he lowered his tail-end to the floor too. It seems to be an effort for him to get his rump down to the floor. A friend of mine has this theory that Hamlet's bum is full of Helium, and therefore lighter, so it's harder to force it down to floor level. Then he awkwardly shuffled forward on his elbows until his front paws were almost in the fireplace. As the heat soaked into the heat-leech, he drifted off to sleep with his head on his paws.

It was time, therefore, to bring out the deck of cards, for a game of strip poker. Heather has a lovely deck; the face of each card has a highly detailed charcoal sketch of a sexual perversion. The four suits are Spades = Self-abuse. For example the four of spades features a woman bringing herself to orgasm with a large, knobbled dildo; the ten of spades features a man lying on his back on the floor with his legs lifted back over his head, cumming into his own mouth. Clubs = Bondage; variations on the theme of people tied / chained / shackled in various positions and situations; the queen of clubs features a nude man on his knees with his hands cuffed behind his back, his head held down by a collar fixed to the floor so his chin is on the ground. A woman dressed in classic 'bitch' attire stands behind him forcing the handle of a large bull-whip up his arse. Diamonds = Paedophilia. Children from around age three to thirteen, boys and girls involved in sex with each other and adults.

Hearts = Bestiality. I'm tempted to describe each card in detail here, but I'll just give a description of my favourites. The three of hearts features a charcoal drawing of a huge bulldog mounting a woman from behind, drooling on her neck as he fucks her. The four shows a man screwing a gorgeous tigress. The eight of hearts is interesting; a naked man is held down on the ground by several monkeys, his arms and legs spread and immobile. Most of the male monkeys are jerking themselves off, and cumming on the guy. Two monkeys are licking his chest, and another is playing with his dick. The big toe of the guys right foot is firmly implanted in the fanny of a female ape, who is pleasuring herself on him. Several apes in the background are screwing / sucking each other; quite a detailed little orgy. Then there is the queen of hearts. This depicts a nice picture of a woman swimming underwater on her back, embracing a male dolphin. The drawing is such that her leg closest the artist is lower, so the dolphins dick can clearly be seen entering her.

O.K., so we were playing strip poker. Remember, we were all only wearing bathrobes, so after the first hand Heather was naked; then Darryl. Darryl lost the next hand too. What to do, what to do? It's kind of traditional to play forfeits after a player loses strip poker, and who were we to break a long-standing tradition? Janene had won that hand so she had the right to set the forfeit. With an evil glint in her eye she declared that Darryl had to retrieve the can of Whipped Cream from the refrigerator, spray it on his balls, and let Hamlet lick it off. Personally I thought that it was a rather daring forfeit to open the game with. Evidently Darryl thought so too, and scowled at her, but went to the 'fridge anyway. He returned shaking the can vigorously.

At the first touch of the cream on his balls he fairly shrieked that it was, "Fucking cold!". Hamlet was instantly wide awake at the first smell of the cream, and eagerly set to licking the sweet goo off Darryl's balls as he knelt near Hamlets head. Darryl's scowl faded into a look of pleasure at the caress of Hamlet's soft tongue.

Next hand, Janene lost, so she quickly shed her gown. I hate being the only one dressed, so I deliberately misplayed my next hand, and lost. Janene lost the next hand, with Darryl the winner. You should have seen the look of insane glee that leapt onto Darryl's face! He pointed to the can of whipped cream and declared that Janene had to spray it onto Hamlet's balls, and then lick it off. The scowl she shot back at him would have frozen Argon. I commanded Hamlet to roll over onto his back, and he lay there with his back legs splayed out, wagging his tail. Heather distracted him by scratching his ears while Janene sprayed the cream onto his balls. He jumped when the cold touched him, but lay fairly still. Then Janene leaned over and, tentatively at first, began to lick the stuff off Hamlet's ballbag. Soon, with mounting enthusiasm, she was taking Hamlet's whole ballbag into her mouth and sucking gently. Everyone was getting quite aroused watching, including Hamlet! Darryl decided she had forfeited enough, and that we better play the next hand before he lost control.

I decided to misplay my next hand too, and lost. Darryl had won again, but before he set my forfeit, Heather grabbed the cards I had discarded earlier in the hand and showed them to the others.

"How often do you throw out two aces in poker, hmmm?", she smiled sweetly at me. Oops. Busted. Darryl set my forfeit, and Heather set my punishment; for losing the hand Darryl wanted to sixty-nine with me, and for cheating I wasn't allowed to cum.

We lay on the rug on our sides, face to cock, and I began to explore Darryl's balls with my tongue. Similar sensations were playing on my balls. Nuzzling my face into his pubic hair I began to lick his shaft, feeling him do the same to my dick. With one hand I began pulling his foreskin back and forward as my lips slipped over the swollen head of his dick. This was echoed on my own dick, which was putting me in serious danger of breaking my punishment by cumming. Normally if I wanted to stave off orgasm for awhile I would bite my tongue, and think of something dull (just how DO you differentiate a quadratic equation...), but with Darryl's dick down my throat so I couldn't bite my tongue, and the sensations he was ministering with his mouth and hands, I was getting closer and closer to cumming.

Heather and Janene were sitting close together, watching our performance. By watching between Darry'ls legs I could see that Heather was gently massaging Janene's breast, while she in turn was stroking Heather's inner thighs. The way Heather leaned her head back with her eyes closed told me that Janene's fingers were getting a little more intimate.

Suddenly Darryl tensed and his fingers dug into the flesh of my thighs as his cock spasmed in my mouth. My taste was flooded with several quick spurts of his warm semen that I eagerly swallowed. He was involuntarily squeezing and sucking hard on my dick as he came. It was too much and I couldn't hold myself back any longer. With an anguished gurgle of thwarted willpower I felt the waves of pleasure wash into me as I came into Darryl's mouth.

We rolled apart slightly and I lay on my back on the rugs with my eyes closed to savour the departing tingles of pleasure. A bright flare registered through my closed eyelids, punctuated by the telephone chirping in surprise. Less than half a second later a huge crash of sound shook the whole house. I jumped and opened my eyes to find the room mostly dark. The storm had knocked the power out so the fire was providing the only illumination.

Heather left the room in search, I guessed, of candles. A moment later I heard the rattle of wheels coming down the hall with the glow of candles preceding. When the stocks rolled into the lounge, pushed by Heather, I was a little surprised. Xanth followed her in, woken at last by the storm, and flopped in front of the fire.

I think I mentioned the stocks once. They are something I built on a whim once when I had some timber left over from a wind-shelter. It was built with comfort in mind (as much as that is possible with stocks). It has a horizontal beam with three depressions cut into it, lined with velvet, for two arms and a head. A matching beam fits over the first and is locked into place with a padlock, holding the victim bent over so their head is only slightly higher than their bum, (adjustable, of course, for shorter or taller people). The victims feet are held immobile between the frame of the base by chained shackles (also velvet lined). For comfort, a padded knee-rest has been provided so although the victim is standing bent at the waist, there is little muscular strain and they can be held there for hours without discomfort (from the stocks, that is).

Heather placed the candles around the room and the effect was quite pleasant; the room took on an air of ritual, reverence. She turned toward me, "Well, you broke your forfeit a second time, so you have to occupy the stocks until further notice."

They locked me in, nude, bent over and vulnerable. And then they tortured me. All I could do was watch as Heather began caressing Janene's nipples again, then she leaned over and began to lick them. Gently she helped Janene lay back, and then ran her hands down Janene's body. With her fingertips Heather traced lines down Janene's legs, then dragged her nails carefully up her thighs. Janene spread her legs, =and Heather knelt between them, and lowered her head to kiss the exposed flesh of her sex.

Hamlet suddenly stood and wandered over to stand over Janene's head. He does that when he's horny and wants to be jerked off. I thought Janene would ignore him, but I was as surprised as Darryl when Janene reached up and began playing with Hamlet's balls.

Looking somewhat affronted, Darryl watched Janene rubbing Hamlet's sheath back and forth over the dogs growing hardon, while Heather was tonguing her vagina lips. Then Darryl shrugged his shoulders and started scratching Xanth down her back with his nails. She glanced around and thumped her tail on the ground, then abruptly rolled over, waving her legs in the air and snuffling. Like Heather, Darryl leaned over Xanth to lick her nipples, eight in all. His tongue traced around each nipple, then down to the 'Y' shaped opening of her pussy. I have never been keen on the taste of Xanth, but Darryl was lapping her up with real enthusiasm.

Watching the performance of Janene writhing with pleasure from Heather's tongue, while the first squirts of Hamlet's cum splashed into her mouth, and Xanth bucking her hips up off the floor to meet Darryl's tonguing was making me horny as hell. And I was stuck in the damned stocks, for my sins.

The thunder rumbled deeply again, and Janene started cumming. She wrapped her legs around Heather's head, and (rather rudely, I thought) pushed Hamlet away so she could grab Heather's hair with her fingers. With a moan of pure delight she rocked her hips as Heather sucked on her clit.

Xanth too seemed to be in the throes of ecstasy, licking her lips and humping to force her own hot-spot against the pressure of Darryls mouth.

I needed some action real bad, so although I couldn't go anywhere, I could still call Hamlet over. Leaving the bodies writhing on the floor, he wandered over to me and snuffled at my balls with his cold, wet nose. "Hup, Hamlet. Hup", I encouraged him. No stranger to this kind of invitation, he jumped up and placed his front paws on my back. Then he shuffled his feet forward until the tip of his thrusting penis was poking me around my arsehole. Normally I would reach around with my hand and guide him into me, but my hands were kind of restricted, so all I could do was move my bum around and hope we connected.

Eventually the pointed tip scored a hit on the hole, and he slowed his thrusting to a sustained push to get the length of his dick inside me. Mmmm, there is nothing like feeling the slow penetration of a dog's dick into your butt. Then he dropped down so his chest was resting on my back, and his front legs were grasping me around my waist so he could increase the tempo of his thrusting to a rhythmic pummeling. It was quite lucky that he didn't tie with me; that is where the swelling at the base of his dick (in Hamlet's case, a lump of flesh the size of a tennis ball) lodges inside my arse. If he had, at the rate he was fucking me he probably would have torn my arsehole to ribbons. As he drove into me, his balls slapped against my thighs, and the knot of his dick stretched my sphincter to the point of pain trying to gain access.

Finally he stopped his frantic humping and just held me with his dick pulsing inside me. Each pulse was a squirt of dog-cum into my rectum. Personally I think this is the most sensual moment, where Hamlet is deeply immersed in the flow of his orgasm, just resting his body on my back, and I am savouring the sensation of his dick swollen to its maximum size, pulsing inside me.

The others were watching me and Hamlet now. I didn't mind; I've always enjoyed my sexual adventurousness. With a grunt, Hamlet stepped off me, and his dick slid easily out of my hole. He walked away slightly with his head down, and dick hanging around his knees, still squirting jets of clear liquid onto the floor. Then he lay down and licked himself clean.

Darryl was still hard from the erotic pleasure of licking Xanth, so he stood and began caressing my ballbag from behind. I couldn't turn my head to look, but when he grabbed my waist with his hands I knew what was happening next. With a firm push, his dick slid into my arse, and for the second time that evening I was being fucked up the arse. To be honest, Darryl and Hamlet are about similar in diameter and length (except for Hamlets knot, the 'widowmaker'), so he slid easily into me in the lubrication of Hamlet's cum.

He fucked me hard, driving into me so my shoulders were pushed into the foam padding of the stocks. His fingers clawed into the flesh on my hips giving me a mix of pleasure tempered with pain. With a growl that scaled up into a roar of animal lust, Darryl slammed his dick into me, and started cumming. The intensity of it caused him to gouge the flesh of my hips leaving bruises that will take a week to vanish. Then he leaned over me and wrapped his arms around my chest, hugging my back while his dick jumped and pulsed in my bowels.

He lay like that, on top of me until he started going soft again, and his dick slipped out from me. I clamped my sphincter tight to stop the liquid from following. There was a polite smattering of applause from the two women as Darryl stood. He undid the locks on the stocks on the condition that I would screw Xanth in front of everyone. Definitely!

Janene and Heather swapped roles so that Heather was on the receiving end of Janene's oral manipulations. Darryl was too fucked out to do much so he just lay on his side on the sheepskin rugs watching the performance. With a hardon that was almost hurting, and fire in my veins, I called Xanth over. She rolled over onto her feet and stood wagging her tail, then snuffled at my damp arsehole to lick up the residue of Hamlet and Darryl's release. She forced her nose between my legs and squeezed through so my ballbag dragged along her back. I scratched down her back with my nails as she went, and as her tail flicked along the crack of my arse and under my ballbag, we both shivered with pleasure.

There was no need for lubricants. Clear liquid from my arousal was flowing freely from the end of my dick, and Xanth was well aroused from her encounter with Darryl. I crouched slightly behind her and grasped her thigh with one hand. The other guided my cock to her velvet-lined entrance. Gently, but firmly, I pulled her hip back as I pushed forward. Entry was so easy, helped by my foreskin peeling back as the tip of my meat opened the soft lips of her pussy. Warmth from her body surrounded my meat, and her muscles gently squeezed and released, squeezed and released along my dick. I just closed my eyes and leaned my head back while I pulled her back onto my dick as hard as I could and held her there, savouring her tightness.

Then I pulled out slightly, just an inch or so, and slid back into her. The again, just and inch or so. Paused slightly to savour her warmth. Again I pulled out and slid back in, a little faster and a little further, and the friction of her tight hole stepped up my urgency. Soon I was fucking her with a steady rhythm, both of my hands on her hips pulling her back to meet my thrusts. The pressure of my orgasm started to build and I couldn't hold back any longer. As hard and as far as I could I forced my dick into Xanth in time with the waves of ecstasy washing into me. For each pulse of my dick, there was an answering squeeze from Xanth, and I howled with pleasure and release. When I am fucking an animal, I become an animal myself. The mantle of rationality drops, and I become a machine designed to fuck.

Spent, I lay back onto the sheepskins where Xanth snuggled next to me. At the calls of 'Encore! Encore!' from the onlookers, I raised my hand in a one-finger salute.

We all lay together for awhile in the mellow glow of the fireplace, and candles, letting the evenings fulfillment blanket us while the storm played around the night. Eventually we roused for a late night coffee, then Heather, Janene, Darryl, Hamlet and Xanth headed upstairs to bed. I was too wired from the coffee, so I said I would join them after I had put a few thoughts to paper.

Well, the rain has stopped, and the storm seems to be spent. I can hardly keep my eyes open, so I'll drop this in the batch upload queue and crash. It's 4:00am Sunday morning. I wonder what the day holds.

Nevyn, in the flesh.

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Now, if you read that and were offended, you are fucking stupid to ignore the warning I put at the top, and deserve the ridicule all the people who know you give behind your back.

Those of you who enjoyed it:- Thank you. Please disregard the pre- and post- warnings.

Nevyn, in the flesh (at a bloody silly time of night).