The Dog Walker

Trapper is my best friend.

After the death of my wife two years ago I was disconsolate and needed to find a new direction in life. I had tried joining clubs, taking lessons and all the other usual ways of meeting people and socialising. But I missed my wife and could not get over the loss. You see she was beautiful, a classic English rose. Pear shaped and as pretty as Venus herself, she was my companion, my friend and my lover. And then she was gone, taken from me by a drunk in a car. Anyway, my life was going nowhere, there was simply a void where there should have been happiness and I could see no future for myself...I was on a downward spiral.

Then by chance I was adopted.

I was out walking through my local woods when I heard a pathetic whining, a noise so sad it matched the emptiness in my heart and drew me towards it. A harsh wind was billowing around the branches of the trees and I found the whimpering hard to locate. I fought my way forwards through the caustic air, cupping hands to my ear to catch the awful mewing and at last saw the cause....Trapper. Caught in a rabbit trap by his front paw was a poor bedraggled Spaniel, shivering and whimpering like a small child. Only a puppy, he was bleeding badly from a deep cut on his fore leg where he had pulled away from the trap. With tears in my eyes I approached him cautiously, I had heard tales of animals turning on their would-be saviours yet in my heart I knew he would not. Our eyes met and I smiled warmly at him.

"Good boy, your safe now", he became still, only his panting showing his distress. I stroked him gently, calming him slowly.

"Lets take a look at that paw shall we?" slowly I let my hand slip down his leg, still stroking him and loosened the snare. He yelped, only the once, and then furiously began to lick my face, a doggy kiss of gratitude. I checked the cut on his leg, it looked worse than I had originally thought and blood was still streaming from it.

"We'd better get you to the vet boy".

The vet was her normal efficient self and soon Trapper (he had to be Trapper, he looked like one!) was up and running around doing what all Spaniels do (cause mischief, bang into things, lick your face). I advertised him as a missing dog and contacted the Police, but no owner materialised. I had been adopted whether I liked it or not, and to be sure I really liked it. He was not my dear wife but he was good company. He always agreed with me (except he hid my socks when it was time for me to go to work), was always pleased to see me and never let me down. My life once more began to have reason.

Reason perhaps, but I was missing excitement. I was starting to get horny again. After two years of mourning my wife I was increasingly beginning to fantasize about sex. It was not that I had not had the opportunity to fuck; indeed a number of my late wife's friends had indicated that they would be more than interested in a physical relationship. But they were not my wife and I still wanted her. They were too close to her memory. And so I fantasized about her and masturbated.

My fantasies began to take over more of my time. When I first started walking Trapper again he was the centre of the walk. I would forever be checking where he was or what he was up to, I did not want him to get snared or hurt again. But as time had worn on I saw his walk as a chance to let my mind wander free, to let my thoughts dwell on the sexual nature of my marriage. I would walk for miles thinking about nothing but sex, the closeness and heat of our bodies, the words we spoke, the touch of her hand. I would become hard, my cock straining in my pants as erotic thoughts clouded my vision. And once home I would masturbate furiously, my hand a blur as I sought a quick release from the frustration that would build up inside of me. My come spurting in a powerful blasts that never quite succeeded in calming the simmering need of real sex, of the hot, damp contact of body on body.

And then, one cold autumn day I was walking Trapper and I lost him. He disappeared and I simply could not find him. Panic set in and I started to run, desperate not to lose another loved one, desperate not to fall back into the dark pit he had dragged me up from. I ran and ran, then suddenly heard a voice. A sharp, whispered order that stopped me in my tracks.

"Go away will you, leave me alone!"

"Leave me alone!" It was a woman's voice.

"Go away!" I followed the sound and saw to my amazement a figure squatting by a tree, back towards me, Trapper jumping around beside her.

"Will you leave me alone!?" The woman was clearly in the process of pissing, a small cloud of steam was rising from the chill ground below her and Trapper was showing more than a little interest in what she was doing. I felt my cock twitch, blood start to flow into it. I watched as a steady stream of hot liquid flowed from her, could hear the anguish in her voice as Trapper continued to pester, and felt a tingle of desire in my stomach as I watched. But what should I do? I was too embarrassed by my own, hardening desire to call Trapper off. If I did she would see my aroused state and probably think me a pervert. So I did nothing. I hid myself behind a large oak to cool off and waited until she had finished pissing. Once she had adjusted herself, I brashly called out for Trapper and he ran to my side.

The woman strode towards me and for the first time I could see what she actually looked like. She was tall, at least six feet, and had beautiful long auburn hair. Her eyes were scowling and she was clearly angry.

"Can't you keep that dog under control?" she barked at me.

"I'm sorry", I replied, "Has he been bothering you?".

"Bothering me! well......yes he has been bothering me". She was beautiful, simply beautiful.

"What was he doing?" I enquired.

"He was.....he was jumping around, he could have knocked me over!" She said, a hint of embarrassment in her voice.

"I do apologise, he is normally very good but you know how it is, sometimes we all lose control". She looked at me out of the corner of her eye.

"What do you mean by that?".

"Nothing", I said, a hint of laughter in my voice "He's a dog, and sometimes he acts like a dog". She eyed me again, and I smiled in reply.

She was about to leave, about to walk out of my life, the first person since my wife who I wanted, desired.

"I'm surprised I haven't seen you up here before, I walk Trapper in these woods everyday", I ventured.

"Really, every time I see you up here you walk right by me, don't even acknowledge that I am here".

"Sorry?"

"I walk here about two or three times a week, but have given up trying to speak to you, you always walk straight by me, you look as though you are on a different planet!"

"I....I...I must apologise", I stammered " I would never knowingly be so rude, it's just that sometimes I have things on my mind".

"Well whatever you have on your mind it must be important!"

"It is...very"

"Such as?" she questioned.

And here I was, at the crux of the conversation. Did I tell her my deepest thoughts, the weight of the desire that had built up inside me those past few months, or give her the "bums rush"? I made the choice.

"Sex".

"Sex?".

"Sex".

"Why?".

And then I let it all out, the pain, the anguish, the frustration. I told this woman who I had only exchanged a few words with my deepest thoughts, my anger, fantasy's and desires. My need for love and for someone to love, my walks full of erotic thought and lonely masturbation. Once I had finished she looked at me, her head on one side, a deep look in her eyes.

"Does my confession disturb you?" I asked.

"No", she answered "Let me ask though, when you called your dog, had you been watching me?".

"Yes", I replied.

"And did it excite you, to see me piss?".

"Yes"

"Why?".

"I...I don't know, my wife never let me see her do it...I mean....I didn't even see much, just Trapper jumping about and you with your back turned, but it was erotic, the thought that you didn't know I was watching, voyeurism perhaps...I've never really thought about watching people pissing before".

"Would you like to see me piss again?" she asked.

I was amazed by her forwardness, slightly taken aback by her brashness.

"Yes...yes I would".

"It turns you on?".

"Yes, it turns me on", she was in control of this conversation, I would answer all her questions truthfully, do whatever she said. This stranger had vanquished the singular desire I held for my dead wife and had focused my thoughts solely on the thought of her pissing. I needed to to see her do it, needed to watch her, needed to hear that steady stream pouring onto the ground again. I wanted her to piss for me more than anything I had ever wanted before.

Then Trapper barked again and the spell was broken.

She looked me straight in the eye, her icy grey pupils bore into me, and then she turned her back and strode away, threw a parting remark over her shoulder, "Tomorrow, here at the same time!" I watched her as she disappeared into the distance, a fading vision.

What had happened? How had this woman managed to get so deep into my soul? Why had I opened up to her? She had only spoken a few words to me and yet had burned a hole into my heart. She was beautiful, but that that was not it, I had seen many beautiful women before and none of them had this effect on me. She had left me speechless but aching with a longing to see her again, to watch her, to touch her, to be with her. I tried to picture her squatting again, but the vision was blurred like the edges of time.

I called Trapper and then made for home, tomorrow I would return.