Written by Ashley Davies


Borrow my dogging

Kind-hearted soul Ashley Davies helps out by taking someone else’s dog for walkies. But when Bill got a sniff of a lady dog, his sexual vitality was unleashed. While still on the leash. It all escalated pretty quickly…

A dramatic reconstruction of Bill's romantic encounter. All photos posed by models.

A dramatic reconstruction of Bill’s romantic encounter. All photos posed by models.

I would like to apologise to anyone who witnessed my ineptitude at the hands of a powerfully randy little dog whose sex pestery hit such obscene levels of weirdness that he probably needs to be on a register.

May I, first of all, make it clear that he’s not my dog. I just help out taking him for walks every now and then. To save everyone’s blushes I’ll call him Bill. He’s small and scruffy, he’s got a cheeky, cheeky face, curly knickerbockers and eyes as black as his filthy soul.

We were happily wandering around the park when he looked up, nostrils twitching, and started straining at his leash. He’s always been a fan of interesting smells, so I let him lead me towards the object of his fascination, which turned out to be a rotund chocolate labrador who, despite looking a little over the hill, was clearly giving off some intoxicating sexual scents. Like Elizabeth Taylor in the 1980s, if you will.

“What if I had to stand there holding his lead while Bill pulled out all the stops and rocked her world for half an hour?”

Before I knew what was happening he was getting all freaky up in her business. Bill, the dirty little bastard, was licking her privates frantically, then running round and thrusting his pelvis in her face. She just stood there blankly accepting her fate. Perhaps part of her was thinking: “This might be my last chance. I’ll take it while I can get it.” I won’t judge her; we’ve all been there.

Had Bill and his temporary wife been undertaking something a bit more vanilla, perhaps I could have been less uptight and just let them get on with it. But even then, him being attached to a lead, which was attached to my hand, would somehow make me appear to be involved, complicit, which is just too ghastly to contemplate.

"Draw me like one of your French poodles."

“Draw me like one of your French poodles.”

And anyway, never having observed the act of love between canines for more than a passing glance, I had no idea how long it would take. If it was to be over in a few seconds, that might be tolerable, but what if I had to stand there holding his lead while Bill pulled out all the stops and rocked her world for half an hour?

Instead, I was chasing him round the labrador, in an anticlockwise fashion, and each time he reached one of her extremities he had a go on it – his face on her rear, or his man parts on her face. And each time we went round, the lead rubbed on the labrador’s behind, impregnating it with a scent that Bill would cherish darkly for some time. All the while, a dark version of Benny Hill’s theme tune was playing in my head, slowed down and drenched with minor chords.

While all this was happening, the labrador’s owner was far, far away, turning a blind eye. I finally got the balls to drag Bill from the scene of his sex crime, which was no mean feat considering he’d suddenly developed the strength of a bull. Then he started weeping. Whining and crying. He was probably saying: “I hate you I hate you I hate you. You never let me fuck other dogs in the face. You’re not even my real mum.”

Throughout all this people were walking past, shaking their heads, as if I was standing there encouraging him to molest a senior canine citizen. “HE’S NOT EVEN MY DOG!” I wanted to shout in response to their silent accusations. And then as I dragged him away, I’m sure those unaware of the context were suspecting me of cruelty.

At least nobody else was aware of the lascivious look on his dirty little face sneaking a sniff of his lead all the way home. Animal.


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Written by Ashley Davies

Ashley Davies is an Edinburgh-based writer and editor and the human behind animal satire website thelabreport.co.uk.