Dogging with The Boys - a Party Animal

I don't think I believed him. I know I didn't. I got this idea of a kind of half-puppy-baby and him not giving me an abortion, or of trying to and something going wrong and being taken to A&E and the doctors finding this thing inside me and I was really scared and evry time he fucked me, or anyone fucked me, I kept crying and hoping I could die!

But then, when nothing seemed to happen and I had a period I hoped that it was okay, and I wasn't pregnant. And then he sold me and I moved to Glasgow, which, for me, was like another country. My new owner, Titch, wasn't anything like his name. He was big and fat and black. I had been with black

guys before and they didn't treat me any different from white men or asian men cos when it comes to men and girls, they are all the same. Titch kept me and three other girls in a flat in Drumchapel, which is on the North-West of the city, and he had a patch near Byers Road where we worked. There were some trendy pubs and clubs there and that was where we picked up punters. He had a van too and we could take them there, or there were plenty of alleys which we also used for quickies. And a lot of customers for quickies.

I think this was when Yuppies were all the rage and the streets were full of sharp suits and coke. Of course Titch kept us supplied with coke and ity deadened our senses. I can't imagine what we talked about, it must have been a load of shite, but we seemed to think everything was fun and funny and the punters seemed to like us being wired and rapping with them. Life was a Big Fat Joke and we were the Punchline for the guys we picked up. Of course I don't remember much but from what I;ve heard and read since, everyone was hyped and these guys who were making big money liked to splash it around, drink, drugs, dogs. We were the dogs. That was what they called us and they usually wanted to fuck doggy-style. They didn't want to risk any lipstick on their collars so they just bent us over and shagged us. And they didn't seem to care where they shagged us - See You Next Tuesday or Bum. It was all the same to them. It was all the same to us. Oh and bareback was twenty extra and they still didn't care. I don't think I ever had a punter who wanted to use a condom, and they were happy to pay the extra. One, I do remember this, said: “my girl at the office always insists on a rubber, says she doesn't want me giving her the Clap, so it's only the wife and working girls that let me do it right,” and I thought, what a bastard, but of course I didn't say anything.

Oh and a lot wanted blow-jobs. It seemed that most of their wives didn't do that, or let them fuck doggy, so it was only with us that that they could do what they wanted. Someone said that we provided a Social Service, so for years afterwards I told people that I was a Social Worker, which is usually a good thing, except if there's a big case about abuse or murder where the Social Workers have fucked up and then I didn't say that, I said I'd been an actress, in Pantomime, which was kinda true, because I imagined that I was princess Charming and I was trying to find the perfect fitting cock!

But there was nothing funny about our lives, it was just one constant drudge, only bearable because of the Coke that Titch gave us. I always thought that he was really a Dealer and we were some kind of cover. He probably had boys going around the pubs and clubs pushing baggies while we were picking up punters, who knows, maybe even some of his boys fucked us as well.

It was like being on a treadmill or one of those running machines in a Gym: you can't stop, and the faster you run the more you stay in the same place. That was what the Red Queen in Alice Through the Looking Glass said and it was how my Fourteenth Birthday came and went and I never even knew. I felt I'd been doing this for ever – every day was the same, we worked seven days (or nights) a week; no day off, no holiday, no rest, nothing. Work, eat sleep, snort some coke and do it all again. And the punters all merged into one.

So I forgot about the dog-baby. Until the night this guy had a word with Titch and Titch sent me off with the bloke to spend the night. He was a pal of Titch. And he had some friends. And another dog. And I was fucked every-which-way by seven guys and the dog. Do all men like to watch a girl being fucked by a dog? I suppose in the country it's pigs or sheep or something – after all don't they say that all country boys get their first sexual experience with a sheep? Yes they do! And I believe it's true – and maybe that's why guys like fucking doggy-style, it brings back those happy memories of their Little Lamb or Fido or Rover when their parents were out at the pub. I don't have a high opinion of men.

Anyway, this Party where I was the Centre of Attention was in a big house in the West End, just across the road from where we worked – Clarence Drive it was, near the BBC and that was how I realised that he looked familiar: he was the star of a comedy show, though I'm not sure how I knew that because we never got much chance to watch TV. And then I realized that BBC was also an abbreciation for Big Black Cock. Now, Titch was reasonable endowed, but there were a couple of much bigger cocks here. I had never been especially attracted to big cocks – for one thing: they could be quite a mothful, and for another: they could hurt. To be honest, I was already so experienced that I had long since realised that I didn't like them at all. Of course, I had to pretend – which made my later claims to being an actress quite fair. Men expect a girl to be overjoyed, so overjoyed I always pretended to be – regardless of the size, shape, colour, hardness or softness – but the thing that really did please me was when they came quickly.

For a lot of men, if you play your hand well, they can cum even before entering, between your legs or bum cheeks, or into your mouth, before you have to take the cock in. And then, their erection usually wilts quickly too. Sometimes, I could almost believe that there is a God in Heaven, or a Guardian Angel looking over my shoulder – though what she might think of me, I wouldn't like to know. Anyway, this party was better, for me, than that last one. The men all called me by name, and that is unusual. Christ, it's amost unheard of! Even Titch didn't call me Teri – just “you, babe, bitch, sweetie, cunt, cumslut, whore, fucktoy,” or whatever similar endearments came to him. I think the 'fucktoy' was the most truthful, because that was what me and the rest of the girls were to him, to the punters, to the guys he sometimes loaned us to. We weren't people, just toys to be used and passed on – or sometimes pissed on too!

But these guys, for some reason. Were different. I don't mean they were kind and gentle and lovuing, or any of that stupid nonsense. I mean, no-one loves a fucktoy any more than a sex-doll, but they didn't try to hurt me, or demean me, or make me invisible. Oh, they used me, oh, yes, they used me, but they did it with a kind of consideration – I don't know if I'm explaining it properly; I don't mean they were gentle or bothered about what I might want. That would be taking it too far. I was there for their pleasure, but it was like as if I was the entertainment but like a DJ, so they would say what they wanted and I would do it. You don't just let the DJ play his own favourites: you tell him the sort of stuff you like and while that's playing, you also ask for specific favourites of your own. And that was how they treated me. I wasn't expected to say “no!” And when I was asked, it wasn't really a question, more a statement of what I would do or they would do to me.

So while it wasn't as bad as that other party, it was much better than it could have been. I can't go so far as to say I actually enjoyed it – I never enjoyed sex with men, it was just something they did to me, but at least this wasn't as bad as it could have been. I've had BAD and I've had WORSE THAN BAD! So I know what I'm talking about. This one was survivable.

And then they brought in the Dog! I think this was meant to be the climax of the party. I realized it wasn't something that they'd done before, because they were trying to work out how to set it up. The TV star wanted to film it, and he had a camera – it was the biggest camera I'd ever seen, so it must have come from the studio or a movie set or something, and he was trtying to work out where to place the action while I felt the others just wanted to see the dog fuck me, but he was the Host and the Star and they all deferred to him, in everything, including who could fuck me and when; so he obviously wanted to film a good show, but he wasn't sure if the dog would perform exactly as he wanted.

It was actually a friendly and affectionate dog. They told me to suck it's tongue, which I did, and to kneel down so it could mount me from behind, which it did. I didn't know if was used to fucking girls, or just desperate, but it managed to get right up my See You Next Tuesday and give me a good hard fuck, which pleased the men no end, and particularly the host, who was also the dog's owner. He said to me: “Dixon likes you, Teri, that's the best I've filmed and you were good too, you got your rhythm right so he was able to go deeper into you. Then he got me to suck Dixon off, which wasn't too bad, really, though his cock did taste a bit like pee.