My Second Encounter with Monty
After my first time with Monty, the big, handsome Rottweiler I was housesitting, a predictable guilt came over me. I felt sick and ashamed every time I saw him. Before the incident he used to sleep on the bed with me – innocently, of course. It was his owner’s bed and he liked to flop down on top of my feet with a big sigh. But I couldn’t stand to have him around me, let alone in bed with me, any more. At night I shut the bedroom door, and locked it, with Monty whimpering on the other side. “I know you don’t understand,” I said quietly. “But–” But what? What did I have to say for myself? I let a dog fuck me. No. I made a dog fuck me. It was illegal, for …