My boyfriend's dog fucked my pussy

The first night he was gone, the house felt cavernous. The silence was the worst part, pressing in from all sides, broken only by the click of Rex's nails on the hardwood floor as he followed me from room to room. I poured a glass of wine I didn't really want, stared at my phone for an hour waiting for a message that wouldn't come, and finally crawled into bed alone. I was only eighteen and I needed human presence now more than ever.

By the third night, the loneliness was a physical ache, a hollow space in my chest that seemed to grow wider with each tick of the clock. I lay on my side, staring at the empty pillow beside me, imagining his warmth, his arms wrapping around me, his stubble scraping against my shoulder. The sheets smelled like fabric softener now, not him. The dog slept at the foot of the bed, a warm, breathing presence that was at once a comfort and a cruel reminder of what was missing.

It started as a desperate, half-formed idea. I was in the kitchen, making a sandwich, the jar of peanut butter in my hand. My mind wandered, unbidden, to the memory of his tongue between my legs, the way he'd make me tremble and moan until I couldn't think. I looked at Rex, lying on his bed in the corner, his head resting on his paws, watching me with those dark, trusting eyes. The thought should have shocked me. It should have repulsed me. Instead, a hot wave of curiosity and shame bloomed in my belly.

That night, I opened the jar, scooped out a generous glob, and slicked it over my pussy, the cold gooeyness making me shiver. I spread my legs on the edge of the bed, heart hammering, and called him over. "Come here, boy."

He padded over, sniffing the air with sudden interest. His nose burrowed into my crotch, and the first swipe of his wet tongue across my clit made me gasp. The coarse, thorough lapping mixed with the sweet, sticky peanut butter sent jolts of electricity straight to my core. I moaned, my head falling back as he worked, his tongue delving deeper, pushing into my hole, scraping over my asshole where I'd also smeared the butter. I came hard, my thighs clamping around his head, my fingers digging into the blankets. I cried out, a mix of his name and a sob. It wasn't him. But the feeling... the feeling was blinding.

I did this for a few night. Soon I didn't even use the butter. I just lay on my back, spread open, and he knew. He climbed up, his heavy paws on either side of my thighs, and began his work. His tongue clicked my wetness and then found my clit with an unerring accuracy that made me see stars. He lapped, he probed, he licked up my own cum that leaked from me as I came again, my body arching off the mattress. Sometimes I had to push him away to make him let go. It was our ritual now. My nightly fix.

Afterwards, I always gave him a treat, scratching behind his ears, whispering, "Good boy, good boy." I'd fall asleep with the warmth of his body curled against my side, his nose still damp against my thigh, and the shame would melt into a strange, hollow peace.

The nightly licks were good. They kept the edge off, kept the loneliness at bay for a little while longer. But after three weeks, my body craved more. The tongue was no longer enough. I needed to feel something inside me. Something thick and real and alive.

And Rex was massive. A hundred and twenty pounds of muscle and dark fur, with a heavy chest and thighs like tree trunks. I’d noticed it before—the way he’d mount his bed sometimes, humping the air in his sleep. The way his cock would occasionally slip out of its sheath when he stretched.

I decided it was time to teach him.

That evening, I locked the bedroom door. I stripped naked and sat on the floor with him, letting him sniff my face, my neck, my hands. I started with a massage, just like I’d planned. My fingers dug into the thick muscles of his neck, working out the tension. He groaned—a low, rumbling sound—and leaned into my touch. I worked my way down his spine, feeling each vertebra, the powerful sweep of his back. I spent a long time on his hindquarters, kneading the dense muscle of his haunches. He was utterly relaxed, his tail wagging slowly.

Then I moved my hands lower, brushing the soft fur of his inner thighs. His body tensed, just a flicker. I let my fingers graze his sheath, the warm, hairless pouch where his cock rested. He didn’t pull away. I stroked it gently, feeling the flesh twitch beneath my touch. Slowly, it began to emerge—the pink tip pushing out, followed by the thick shaft, the prominent knot at its base. My breath caught. It was bigger than I’d imagined.

I wrapped my fingers around it, and he made a sound I’d never heard from him before—a deep, guttural whine that turned into a growl of pleasure. I pumped him slowly, learning the rhythm he liked. His hips started to move, thrusting into my hand. I used both hands, one on his shaft, one teasing the base of the knot. He was fully erect now, his cock jutting out at an angle, practically throbbing in my grip.

He began to hump the air, then my thigh. I let him. His front paws braced on either side of my hips as he rubbed himself against my leg, his breath hot on my shoulder. I guided him, shifting my body until the head of his cock was pressed against my wet folds. I was soaked. The anticipation alone had me dripping.

I positioned myself on my hands and knees, presenting myself. “Come on, boy,” I whispered.

He mounted me without hesitation. His heavy body covered mine. I felt the blunt pressure of his cock nudging at my entrance, searching. I reached back and guided him in.

The first push was a shock. I cried out as he slid into me, stretching me in a way no human ever had. He was thick and long, and he kept going, the knot pressing against my lips, not yet inside. Then he entered. I felt full. So fucking full. He started to thrust, slow at first, then faster, his rhythm instinctive. His cock dragged against my walls, hitting spots that made my vision blur. I came almost immediately, my pussy clenching around him, but he didn’t stop. He kept hammering into me, driven by pure instinct.

I came again, a second orgasm ripping through me, harder than the first. I was shaking, moaning into the carpet. But he was still going. His hips slammed into me, and I could feel his knot swelling, trying to lock in. I tried to push him off, to pull away before it was too late, but he was too strong. His teeth gripped the scruff of my neck—a gentle but firm bite—and he drove forward one last time.

The knot popped inside me.

I screamed. Not in pain, but in overwhelming fullness. It locked us together, his cock buried to the hilt, his hot seed pumping into me in thick pulses. I felt each spurt, warm and wet, flooding my insides. He stayed there, panting, his body trembling against mine. I lay there, pinned, my pussy gripping him, our bodies fused.

When the knot finally subsided and he slid out, I felt hollow. A stream of his cum leaked from my pussy onto the floor. I collapsed onto my side, exhausted, but already thinking about tomorrow.

It became our new ritual. The licking to get me wet, then the fucking. Every night. I trained him to respond to a command—a soft “come here, boy” that meant he should mount me. He learned to thrust faster when I moaned, to slow down when I gasped. He learned to pull out before his knot fully locked, most of the time. But sometimes, I let him stay. I wanted his seed inside me. I needed it.

Now, when I crawl into bed, he’s already waiting. His tongue finds my clit in the dark. And when I’m dripping and ready, I roll onto my belly, and he covers me. It’s not just survival anymore. It’s need. It’s the only thing that makes the emptiness bearable. And in the morning, when I clean his cum from my thighs, I smile.

The day my boyfriend came home was a blur of tears and kisses and the scent of him—sweat and travel and that particular warmth I’d been starving for. We barely made it through the front door before our mouths were on each other, hands tearing at clothes, a desperate tangle of limbs. The sex was amazing. It was familiar and fierce, his cock sliding into me, his breath in my ear, his hands gripping my hips. I came on his dick twice before we even made it to the bedroom. He laughed, breathless, and called me his good girl. I didn’t tell him about Rex. Not yet. How could I? It was ours, that secret. Mine and the dog’s.

But the dog knew.

That first night, my boyfriend fell asleep with his arm draped over my waist, his body warm and heavy against mine. I lay awake, listening to Rex shift on his bed in the corner. He was watching me. I could feel his gaze, the soft huff of his breath. My pussy throbbed. The ritual was too deeply ingrained now. My body craved it, the weight, the fullness, the heat. I fought it for an hour, but when my boyfriend’s breathing evened out into deep, steady sleep, I slipped out from under his arm.

Rex met me at the foot of the bed. I knelt, and he licked my face, my neck, then pushed his nose between my legs. I was already wet. He lapped at my clit, and I bit my lip to keep quiet, my fingers buried in his fur. It didn’t take long before I was on all fours, my ass in the air, guiding his cock to my entrance. He mounted me, his heavy body covering mine, and pushed inside. I gasped, my pussy stretching around him like a second home.

I was lost in it—the drag of his cock, the warmth of his chest, the soft growls in his throat. I didn’t hear the shift in the bed. I didn’t see the shadow move. But I felt the sudden stillness, the weight of eyes on me.

“What the fuck.”

My boyfriend’s voice. Low. Shocked. I froze, my heart slamming against my ribs. Rex didn’t stop. He kept thrusting, his knot swelling against my opening, his rhythm unbroken. I couldn’t speak. I just stayed there, impaled, tears pricking my eyes.

But then—a sound I didn’t expect. A slow, shaky exhale. I risked a glance over my shoulder. My boyfriend was sitting up, the sheet pooled around his waist. His cock was hard. Hard and thick, curving up toward his stomach. He was staring at the sight of his dog’s hips slamming into me, his slick cock sliding in and out of my pussy. He licked his lips.

“Fuck,” he whispered. Not anger. Awe.

“I... I can explain—” I started, but he held up a hand.

“Don’t.” His voice was rough. “Don’t stop. Keep going.”

I didn’t know what to do. But Rex knew. He kept fucking me, his thrusts deep and steady, and I let myself fall back into it. The shame melted into arousal as my boyfriend watched, his hand moving to his own cock, stroking slowly.

“He’s so big,” my boyfriend murmured, almost to himself. “Look at that. Look at his knot.”

I moaned as Rex’s knot pushed past my lips, locking us together. I was full, so full, and I could feel my boyfriend’s eyes on that spot, on the place where woman and beast joined.

“Does he fill you up?” my boyfriend asked. “Better than me?”

I nodded, my voice breaking. “Yes. Fuck, yes.”

He didn’t get angry. He got harder. He crawled closer, kneeling beside us, his hand still working his shaft. He reached out and touched my face, thumb brushing away a tear. “You’re my slut,” he said, but it was tender. “My perfect little slut. And you’re his, too.”

Rex growled low in his chest, his hips driving faster. I felt the familiar pressure building, my orgasm coiling in my belly. My boyfriend leaned down, gripping his own cock, aiming it at my face.

“I’m going to come on your face,” he said. “You want that? While his dog fills your pussy?”

“Yes,” I sobbed. “Please. Please make me yours.”

He stroked himself faster, his eyes locked on the sight of Rex’s cock sliding into me. The dog’s breath was ragged now, his thrusts becoming erratic. I knew he was close. I was close, too. The triple rhythm—Rex’s pounding, my boyfriend’s hand, my own clit rubbing against the sheets—sent me over.

I came with a scream, my pussy clenching around Rex’s cock. That triggered him. He drove deep, his knot locking tight, and I felt his hot seed flood my insides, pulse after pulse. At the same moment, my boyfriend grunted and his cum splashed across my face—thick, warm ropes landing on my cheeks, my lips, my eyelids. I opened my mouth and caught some, tasting him.

Rex pulled out, his knot deflating, and a stream of his cum spilled from my pussy onto the floor, pooling in the carpet. He turned, sniffing at the mess, and then added his own—a final squirt of thick white liquid that mixed with mine.

We all lay there, panting. My boyfriend collapsed beside me, pulling me into his arms, his cum still sticky on my face. Rex licked my hand, then curled up at the foot of the bed.

My boyfriend kissed my forehead, tasting his own seed on my skin. “I didn’t know,” he said softly. “But I’m glad. I mean that. He’s my best friend. And now he’s yours, too.”

I cried then, not from shame, but from relief. He held me, and Rex’s tail thumped against the mattress.

In the weeks that followed, it became our new normal. Sometimes my boyfriend would wake me with his cock in my mouth while Rex mounted me from behind. Sometimes we would take turns—first him, then the dog, then both. He bought a mattress cover we could clean easily. He’d stroke his dog’s head while Rex fucked me, whispering “good boy” into his ear.

He loved sharing me. And I loved being shared. The emptiness I’d felt during his deployment was gone, replaced by a fullness I never knew I needed.

The first time he suggested it, I thought he was joking. We were lying in bed, still slick from a session where Rex had taken my pussy while my boyfriend watched and stroked himself. My boyfriend’s hand traced the curve of my ass, fingers dipping into the crack.

“You think he could fit here too?” he asked, pressing lightly against my asshole.

I shivered. “Maybe. But I’d need to be stretched.”

He kissed my shoulder. “I meant together. Him in your pussy, me in your ass. Both of us filling you at once.”

The thought alone made my cunt clench. I’d never done double penetration before, never even imagined it with a human, let alone with a dog. But the idea of being completely stuffed—his cock in my ass, Rex’s massive knot swelling in my pussy—sent a jolt of heat straight to my core.

“You think he’d let you mount me while he’s inside me?” I asked.

“I’ll coax him,” my boyfriend said. “He trusts me.”

And he did.

We spent the next few nights warming me up. My boyfriend would finger my ass while Rex licked my clit, stretching me slowly with his fingers and then a plug he bought. I moaned into the pillow as he worked me open, his other hand stroking Rex’s head.

“Good girl,” he murmured. “You’re going to take us both. I know you can.”

The night we tried it, I was on my hands and knees, my face pressed into the mattress. Rex was already excited, his cock slick and red, his tail wagging. My boyfriend knelt behind me, his dick hard and ready. He guided Rex’s hips first, lining the dog’s cock up with my pussy. Rex pushed in with a low growl, and I gasped as his warmth filled me. He started to thrust, slow at first, his knot nudging my entrance.

“Okay,” my boyfriend whispered. “Now me.”

He pressed the head of his cock against my asshole. I was slick with lube, stretched from the plug, but the pressure of both of them was incredible. He pushed. I felt the burn, the stretch, and then he was inside me, his hips flush against my ass. For a moment, we all froze.

I was so full I couldn’t breathe. My pussy gripped Rex’s cock. My ass squeezed my boyfriend’s. They were separated by only a thin wall of flesh, and I could feel every ridge, every pulse of both of them.

“Move,” I begged. “Please.”

Rex started first, his hips rocking into me. My boyfriend followed, setting a rhythm—out when Rex pushed in, in when Rex pulled back. They found a fucking symphony. My boyfriend grunted, his hands gripping my hips, while Rex’s breath came in hot pants against my back. The sounds—wet, slapping, animal—filled the room.

I came hard, my orgasm ripping through me like a shockwave. My pussy convulsed around Rex’s cock, and my ass clenched around my boyfriend. They kept going, using my body as a bridge between them. My boyfriend leaned down, biting my shoulder. Rex whined, his knot swelling, locking into my cunt.

“Fuck, he’s knotting,” my boyfriend groaned. “I can feel it through the wall of your pussy.”

He kept thrusting into my ass, even as Rex’s knot trapped his own movement. The pressure was maddening. I came again, and this time my boyfriend followed, his seed hot in my ass. Rex’s cum flooded my pussy, and I was so full it leaked out around his knot, dripping down my thighs.

We collapsed into a heap. My boyfriend pulled out slowly, then Rex, his knot deflating. The mess between my legs was obscene—a pool of cum, mine and theirs, mixed together.

My boyfriend kissed my forehead. “That was incredible.”

I laughed weakly. “I can’t walk.”

“Good. Means we’ll do it again tomorrow.”

And we did. It became our signature move—me on all fours, Rex in my cunt, my boyfriend in my ass. We tried variations: me on my back, legs spread, Rex mounting me while my boyfriend knelt by my head, fucking my mouth. But the double penetration was our favorite. The way they filled me, the way they moved together, the feeling of being completely owned by both of them—it was a high I never wanted to come down from.

Our sex life was better than ever. No jealousy, only sharing. My boyfriend would hold Rex’s face and kiss his snout while he fucked me. He’d whisper, “Good boy, you make her feel so good.” And I’d come just hearing it.

One night, after a particularly intense session, we lay in the afterglow. Rex was asleep at the foot of the bed, his cock still half-hard, a string of cum connecting him to the sheet. My boyfriend traced patterns on my stomach.

“You know,” he said slowly, “Rex has been so good to us. But I’ve been thinking…”

I propped myself up on an elbow. “About what?”

“About getting a female dog. For me.”

The words hung in the air. I processed them slowly, my mind already imagining it—a bitch in heat, my boyfriend mounting her, his cock sliding into her pussy. The image made me wet again.

“You want to fuck a dog?” I asked, but it wasn’t a challenge. It was curiosity. Need.

“I want to share everything with you,” he said. “And if you can take Rex, why can’t I take a bitch? We’d be faithful to each other in this. No other humans. Just us and our dogs.”

I kissed him deep, tasting his mouth, still salty from my pussy. “I think that’s perfect.”

We started looking the next day. A female German Shepherd, maybe a Rottweiler—something big, strong, with a pussy that could take him the way mine took Rex. We read about breeding, about heat cycles, about how to introduce a new dog into the pack. Rex would have a companion. My boyfriend would have a cunt to fill. And I would watch, just like he watched me, and we would all be one family.

Because this was ours. All of ours. And we were faithful to each other in a way no one else could understand—bound by love, by trust, and by the animals that completed us.