The Irish Wolfhound closest to me let out a soft deep “Woof” and I walked towards him, held out my hand. He had fucked me only twice so far. He sn...ffed at my fingers, licked them. I reached into the kennel, scratched him behind his ears. With a low grumbling sound he sat down, leaned against the bars. “You like that, hm?” I smiled, let my hand run through his fur. “And I don't even know your name.” I looked around at all the dogs. Each one of them had fucked me at one point of my time here. But. I didn’t know at the time, but the stuff he’d shot into me before had helped to soften up my inner most parts, keeping me sensitive but removing the pain. It wasn’t until the tip slipped past the tightness deep inside me that I dared to breathe, the incredible rush sending me higher yet again. I slurped and sucked and licked the tentacle in my mouth, hoping my actions would spur him on, which I felt no small amount of pride when they seemed to do just that.Another thrust, then another, and I. More

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