A female doggy-dog experience

Braintatoo (an alias) always lives up to her name. Her writing style leaves ideas etched in one’s mind permanently. Her language is simple but deep. It’s always a pleasure reading her stuff. I have never met her but her articles are a great read any day. Some personalities are meant to be anonymous so please don’t write to me expecting that I reveal her identity. Happy reading.


November 24, 2010 – So, I had a ‘doggy dog’ experience.  Oh yeah… you may doubt me, but in my eyes it has the ‘doggy dog’ seal, complete with a voucher for Kibbles and Bits dog food.

You see, I am a 34-year-old sheltered female.  I went to a girl’s boarding school at the age of 12, straight through a girl’s only high school.  Here they taught us that boys were dogs whose only purpose in life was to sow their wild oats; to reap as much girlie whirlwind in record of their exploits.

We knew that the only way to get a good husband was to pray incessantly for God’s grace and mercy, that He should find it fit to give us good partners.  And so I prayed and believed though sadly, the only buggers that found their way into my crock-pot were the playas.  Like a good girl, I shelved them into the display window believing that they could only be good for admiring.

Later on, I attended a conservative Christian college in the American South; the kind of college where African dances were considered to be ungodly and strongly discouraged to the point of exorcism.  I cannot blame my college; not when it was strategically located in the middle of Ku Klux (KKK) territory.

By now you get the picture… No one could have come as close to preserving their purity as I was.  Needlessness to say, at 24 I quit that road and decided to sample life’s finer dogs… scratch that… moments, is what I meant to say.  But that is a story for another day.

Fast forward to today.

I am sitting in an office talking to a ‘display window’ type of dog.  He’s charming, articulate, and handsome and he is paying me every bit of attention.  I on the other hand, am thoroughly enjoying the conversation, feeling more intelligent with every nod of his head.  There’s an easy banter in the room coupled with a hint of sexual awareness.

Then it happens!!!

Everything begins to appear in slow-motion.  I can see his lips moving but I cannot hear a word.  I can see his gestures, but they look automated, exaggerated and unreal.  He is no longer my friend but a purely sexual being, awakening all my basic instincts in a manner never experienced by my prude self.


I can see him looking at me in expectation but I have gone to another land.  There, he has me pinned to the office door hoisted up, as if by dog magic, for easy access.  We are overtaken by lust and desire remembering nothing else, other than the overwhelming desire to accomplish what we are destined to.

Then I realize he’s gone quiet, is calling my name and I am slowly shaken out of my reverie.  I am flushed and embarrassed to admit that I did not hear his question.  So I ask him to rephrase as I take that opportunistic moment to pick up my body, emotions and self from the messy heap that I am.

And we continue, as if my dog time never stood as still as a lifetime for those 20 seconds.

It probably happens every day or more often for some of you.  But in my mind, it will go down as my certifiable doggy moment.  And am ecstatic; I am finally experiencing a sexual awakening similar to that of 15 year old dogs.  I wonder if this is what Snoop meant when he said it is a ‘Doggy Dog World’.

Hmmmh, write me when the Jury is in on that one.

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