I remember it was simply lovely, pressed up against his warm skin, and he only wore a kind of shorts. His hair was a little longer than a crew, maybe ...n inch or more in length and dark blown/black while his skin was a dark blue with green lines marking everywhere, almost making him look tiger-ish. His eyes were... like an amber-yellowish color. He was very exotic but his ears only had a slight point to them. I had pulled back, still playing with his hair and he seemed speechless. I smiled at. Like they were the most delicious fruit he had ever tasted. He dipped down and licked and sucked firmly on each one in turn before standing back to admire them. The wind blew ferociously and the sudden cold after the warm wetness of James’s mouth only a few seconds before caused Samantha’s nipples to harden further. James reached out and pinched them hard. “Do you like that? Do you, do you like it?” he asked through gritted teeth. “You know I do” moaned Samantha as her legs started to tremble.. The dog suddenly released her chest, placed a huge paw on her back and swung his body over her rump, the knot rotated as he turned; his left hind foot scrabbled at her back as he swung himself round. His huge tail brushed her back and she was relieved of his weight. Still connected they stood backside to backside, shaggy coat to pink skin, waiting for nature his big feet trampling on her lower legs. Moments passed, minutes perhaps hours she had lost all thoughts of time, he stepped away, or at. He’d wake up screaming and in a cold sweat. We saw doctors about it, went to sleep clinics and therapists. Nothing seemed to help, in fact, it got worse. It became more often, to the point that every night he’d wake up screaming. As a mother, my heart aches that I was unable to help. I spoke of my anguish to a few friends when one told me I should sleep with him. I looked at her like she was nuts. “No, not like that,” she said. “Just in the same bed. You’d both be wearing pyjamas. A mother’s.
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