I always talked to him like he was a big baby, because he was. He was as friendly as a dog could be, even patient, which was probably because he was a bit older than most of the dogs I’d known as a kid. Everyone liked the puppies back home, scampering like hyperactive six year olds. Jack was cool and calm and oh, so sweet. I loved him, and so did Greg.
“Let’s go outside first, then I’ll give it to you.”
He always needed to go out as soon as I got home, that was the problem with weekdays, but he was well trained anyway. I’d just be glad when I could give him some real exercise again. Being taken for a walk by a pregnant woman didn’t do him a whole lot of good. I’d need the exercise too if I was going to get back into the shape my husband liked. Well, Greg liked my pregnant shape just fine according to his letters and phone calls. I liked sending him pictures.
“That was good, huh … Yeah boy, hold on…” I smiled as Jack walked back into the house about 20 minutes later, his business finished and now I could really relax, taking off my uniform first thing.
I couldn’t wait to get out of it, even though it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just a big maternity blouse and I had my choice of a skirt that fell halfway below my knees, or a pair of trousers with a stretchable waistband. I usually opted for the pants, just because that skirt was like a tent hanging off my pregnant belly. A family of five could live under it and I wondered who’s brilliant idea that article of military clothing had been. Doubtlessly it had been a man’s.
I just got all the way naked, because it was warm in my apartment. I had air conditioning, but I only ran it at night, or on really hot days. It got expensive leaving it on all the time. It was cheaper to strip down and turn on an electric fan, believe me. But I had other reasons for stripping down as well.
I checked myself in the mirror briefly, because it was strange being pregnant. When people change, like grow older or lose or gain weight, they usually don’t notice the day to day changes. You just catch yourself after weeks or months and think, wow, I look different than I remember. But pregnancy … maybe it was just me, but I noticed something different every day. Whether it was another tiny stretch mark to worry over, or an extra inch around my belly, or just thinking that my once pert round ass was sagging a little, which it really wasn’t, I noticed the changes. So I looked at myself and I did look good.
And as I mentioned, I’d even sent pictures to my husband, a few snapshots taken every few weeks, dated so he could see me naked, yeah, and if I ever found he was showing them to anyone else, I’d kill him. But Greg wouldn’t do that, I knew. He’d just look at them in his bed at night, seeing me still beautiful, and maybe even more so with my tummy full of life. I thought I looked beautiful anyway, and so did a lot of guys around the hospital.
More than a few times every week I had to ignore a comment, from enlisted guys and officers alike. Nothing bad, nothing to go running to the general with sexual harassment charges about. Just the odd remark about how I looked good, how motherhood suited me. Or more often, the overheard whispers between guys who wished they’d been the ones impregnating me. I just ignored it, smiling inwardly and taking it as a compliment, and got on with my job.
And now that I was home I was going to get on with something else. I’d discovered by accident that Jack really loved my breast milk. I’d been leaking a week before as I tried giving Jack a bath, which is a chore best done naked, believe me. He was pretty good about it too, usually, but once his tongue found my nipples and the milk beneath them … It was a short bath.
At first I felt nervous. Not that he’d bite me; I knew Jack wouldn’t, not even by accident. He’s obscenely gentle that way. No, I was nervous because he was a dog and I was a woman and while maybe to him it was just something tasty to lap up, for me it was somewhere between winning the lottery and going to heaven.
I mean, it felt good! Never mind the fact that I hadn’t been with a man in eight months, or that this pregnancy thing had made me hot and horny even more than usual … And usually I wasn’t, actually, so this was a brand new deal for me. But just the sensation of that tongue, like wet sandpaper over my hard, rubbery nipples was incredible. And not only did it feel good, but it actually drew some of the milk out and that was a huge plus! My tits got sore by the end of the day and they needed relief.
Jack’s long tongue was the perfect cure and often I’d use one hand to milk my nipple while he licked around and between my fingers, and the other was down between my legs. I have to admit I masturbated like crazy while Jack was drinking my milk like that. My pussy would just get soaked and my clit, which had always been small and shy, she was full grown then. I don’t know if it was my pregnancy or what, but my clitty was about as big as the tip of my little finger. Big enough so I could rub it nice, almost stroking it like a tiny cock if I wanted.
Sadie was right; us married white girls knew how to do it good!
What she didn’t know, was that my ‘toy’ was actually Jack’s big cock. I’d been real slow to start playing with that, but once he smelled my pussy after one or two good orgasms, his cock would start to unsheathe. And I’d been drawn to it, timidly at first, but we were alone. Jack wasn’t going to tell anyone what we were doing. He was the perfect companion, the perfect lover while my husband was away. I wasn’t going to leave Greg for our dog and Jack wasn’t going to feel jealous when Greg came home.
So I’d begun to stroke him, gently at first, just exploring his odd penis and how it worked. I was amazed at first by how hard it was. I mean Greg’s cock, which was truthfully the only other penis I’d ever played with, Greg’s got hard, but Jack’s was like it had a bone inside it. Seriously, there was just no give in that shaft at all.
And the next thing I found pretty amazing was the size of it! My God, I’d measures it with the measuring tape out of my sewing box, just because I could. I’d never do that with Greg or any other man, but Jack didn’t care and I was seriously curious. Once he was all the way out of the sheath and dripping wet, the dog’s cock was just over ten inches long. And at the fattest part, towards the middle, he was four and a half inches around.
I didn’t know how big Greg was exactly, probably about the same girth, I supposed, but definitely shorter, by a good three inches maybe. Jack’s cock was actually pretty intimidating, the way it looked, marbled in red and white, with thin blue veins all along the shaft. And the tip was pointed with a soft bottom lip that stuck out and it just looked like it was made for penetration. Greg’s penis had a smooth round head, blunt and comfortable and friendly looking while Jack’s was designed for serious fucking. Comfort was an afterthought in his case.
And of course I’d seen the knot. I’d grown up in a small town with lots of farms and dogs and I’d seen dogs locked up, I knew what was going on. It had never given me a thrill, except the adolescent giggles when my friends were around and we’d stare and point. So when I saw Jack’s knotted muscle at the base of his penis, I knew what it was for. It wasn’t full sized, but very evident as his cock hung free beneath his furry belly.