When I stroke his head his lovely eyes look deeply into mine.My pulse quickens.He has that magic something; personality, sex appeal, masculinity.I'm drawn by him: want him.Mrs Kemp talks on while I fondle his ears. My gaze falls onto his sheath and again I feel my pulse quicken. It's large, shiny and fascinating. I want it.He rises onto both legs to stand before me, his tail wagging.I can see the red tip of his broad cock protruding up at me.My cunt is fizzing for him to press it against me."Oh he's taken to you all right Margot," she said laughing, "I think he's hoping you'll take him for a walk round the pond!" Oh do you think so Mrs Kemp, how sweet!" I exclaimed."Well I'm not too good on my legs, as you know said Mrs Kemp glumly, so he's going to miss his walks while he's with me I afraid." What's he called?" I ask, taking his lead from her as I feel my face flushing."Oh thanks Margot, you're so kind; he's called Bengy." she smiled."Right Bengy, lets go walkies shall we?" I said. If it comes down to you or me, it’s me. Do you fucking understand?’ The Package nodded, his face red with exertion. The rain kept coming down, a steady drizzle. The slick blackness of the bitumen looked treacherous in the dark, but they had to make it. The police weren’t far behind. Here goes. He tightened his grip on the empty bottle in his hand. ‘One….two….three!’ He threw the empty bottle twenty metres down the alley and high into the air. He pulled The Package to his feet by the collar and turned and ran in the other direction. As fast as he could. The bottle smashed as it hit the bitumen. Run. Fast. Thirty meters to go. No gunfire. Yet. Twenty meters. Nothing. Yet. Five meters. He made it. He was behind the dumpster. The Package lumbered towards him and made it too. Good. That’s why he trained. If he got out of this alive, he would never again procrastinate about getting out of bed to train. Jessica had always complained about the amount of time he spent training. He always.
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