Hog Dog

During August in the South, it is hot and humid. And it doesn’t matter when you confront the thermometer, AM or PM, and every time in between.

But when duty calls, someone has to take the hound out for her twice-daily constitutional, in her case, it’s early morning and just before dusk.

Given the unrelenting heat, I choose to sleep in the nude, with the overhead fan on high, maximizing evaporative cooling.

The hound sleeps at the foot of our bed and performs as an extremely reliable alarm clock, her bladder is set for 5:30AM, unless Hubby’s equally reliable morning wood cums knocking first.

There’s no need for a bedside alarm clock with that kinda redundancy.

But I digress. Heavy moist dog breath, panting in my face, awakened me at the usual time.

The thought of pulling on clothes only to go swimming in the humidity outside was a wholly unappealing. In the twilight, just before sunrise, our sleepy neighborhood street was quiet and empty.

Grabbing the leash from the hook by the backdoor, I decided to risk it, no one would see me shrouded in the darkness. We don’t have any fences, hence the leash.

Our hound is very particular about her morning routine. And despite, knowingly breaking every rule of dog training, I allow her to choose her spot, sometimes it’s the backyard, sometimes the front, occasionally the side yard. I don’t really care as long as she attends to her business quickly.

This day she made a bee-line for the front yard, almost as if she knew about my potentially compromising lack of attire.

It was dark and she would be fast, what could happen in those few minutes? So, I let her lead, tugging me behind her.

Humidity enveloped me and my skin began to glisten with perspiration.

We have a deep lot with a long driveway, and she was determined to reach the mailbox on the street.

USPS isn’t the only delivery made there; every male dog leaves his morning news on the post.

Instantly upon her arrival, she assumes that tell-tale pooping posture, while I wait patiently.

After finishing, I bend over to collect her gift. She is always so proud.

Ass high, head low, one hand gripping the leash, my other gloved with a poop bag, I begin spinning like top as my hound excitedly races toward the street.

Catching my balance, regret already welling up inside me, I’m greeted by my neighbors unleashed hunting dog. He’s very well trained, so I know his owner is nearby.

Both hands occupied, with no way to cover myself, sweat now rolling down my chest between my perky b-cups, my head swiveled from left to right, back and forth, my eyes straining to see into the darkness.

Our two hounds greeted each other eagerly, tails wagging enthusiastically.

Frozen by indecision, after one my last glance each way, I would make a break for it, literally running naked back to my house.

My heart raced and sweat poured out of me, dripping from my nipples in salty droplets, my hair clinging to my face.

Sensing someone approaching in the twilight, my head snapped toward the oncoming sound.

Unabashedly, my eyes focused first on his shirtless, glistening, muscled shoulders and pecs, then tracing his six-pack abs downward.

Wearing only boxer shorts, evidently, he was equally disinclined, given the heat and humidity.

We’ve only ever exchanged brief hellos in passing, and now we’re standing tits to pecs, in the growing morning light, with only his boxers between us.

Submissively, I avert my eyes, casting them downward. And catch the first twitches of his awakening erection.

Looking up to meet his gaze, I see his eyes exploring my body, unwittingly nodding his head and licking his lips in appreciation, his appetite growing.

I reach out with tentative fingers as I squat down, he doesn’t recoil, he leans in, shuffling forward slightly on the dewy grass.

His cock is now fully erect, pitching a tent with his boxers.

My hand gently pats his hound’s head instead.

Popping upright, I jokingly say, “see you tomorrow, same time.”