YIMBY
Tourist
I'm YIMBY. Male, 30, into ladies human and canine. I've been here for a while but never properly introduced myself. Everybody gets one thread here to talk about themselves. I'd like to use mine to tell you my story.
If you're looking for cheap titillation, seek it elsewhere. This is a melancholic tale, not a sexy one. I originally wrote this for one of the two-dozen-or-so "First time" or "How did you know?" threads, but the more I wrote, the more I felt the need to get the story right. It's taken a while longer than I expected, but writing it has helped make some sense of the past.
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WHY I AM A ZOOPHILE
I was 14, I think, and not much into sex. Not quite asexual, as sex was a desirable thing, but pursuing it was simply more effort than it was worth. I masturbated, like practically everybody at that age, but rarely did I want or imagine anything while doing it: no girls, no guys, no dogs, no anything. I was just after the sweet rush of hormones, and for that your right hand serves just as well as anything.
My family had always kept dogs, but my interest in them had waned over the years. As a toddler you couldn't keep me indoors, I had to be out there at all hours with them. As a child I spent less time in the yard, dogs were entertaining but not my responsibility. As an adolescent I couldn't have cared either way, they were there and I probably wasn't. This story concerns a female malamute, and she beautiful creature, though I didn't appreciate it at the time.
One summer evening a storm rolled in. I always watch a storm as it passes and this one was something special: thunder so deep it caused my heart to skip a beat, lightning so fierce I feared that my eyes would never recover, and clouds so dense the sky simply ceased to exist. They called it a “hundred year storm” and I hope to live another hundred years to see it's like again.
I sat on the back steps and watched this incredible display of natural fury to take my mind off things. I was a typical adolescent, dissatisfied with everything: school sucked, family sucked, life sucked. In hindsight so much if that seems trivial, but it's only natural at that age.
So I sat, alone, and watched the storm roll on.
The dog seemed unusually nervous. Normally she was quite placid and had handled storms without issue in the past. I don't know why this time was different. I called her over and gave her a scratch behind the ear - a courtesy, nothing more. To say she enjoyed it would be an understatement – she proceeded to headbutt me into the wall and pin me there in a desperate quest for attention. I couldn't help but laugh at her forwardness; how could I possibly say no?
Then came the erection. It wasn't due to anything that was going on at the time, it was one of those annoying 'no reason' erections that are so frequent during puberty. Like most erections though, it came with a rush, and suddenly I was aware of every feeling, every sensation, every experience of my body at that moment. And I was acutely aware of the body pressed against my mine.
The first thing to strike me was the warmth. Her body seemed to radiate energy: a perfect temperature that invited you to pull it closer, to embrace it and share warmth between two bodies.
I could feel the wetness of her nose even through my shirt. The cold wetness was contrasted against the heat of her breath – the violent clash happening overhead was nothing compared to what I felt on my chest.
Above all though, I could feel her fur! That fur against my skin was the most incredible thing I had ever experienced. Every hair seemed to tickle at my flesh, the most innocent of touches causing the most sensual feelings.
I pulled her close, burying my face in her neck. It could have been seconds, or minutes, or an hour later, but just as suddenly as it had come the sensation passed. There was nothing sexual, I was just a boy sitting awkwardly with an oversized dog across his lap. Yet I felt content. I liked this dog. I liked dogs. I had seen the beauty and felt the affection of this animal and it was good.
So I sat, with a friend, and watched the storm roll on.
I started to spend more time with her from then on. She was a lazy girl, but always friendly and loved company. For my part, I learned the value of a friend who just is, somebody who has nothing to lose or gain by association.
Over the following years I'd often think back to that night and the strange attraction I'd felt, ever so briefly. It started slowly, a pleasant recollection, but then it evolved. I'd had a sexual awakening, and there was no ignoring it now. I started thinking about the possibilities. The warmth of her body, the warmth of her belly. The wetness of her nose, the wetness of her tongue. The feeling of her fur, the feeling of her flesh. Was sex possible? Was sex sensible? Was sex moral? So many thoughts, so many ideas, so many complications.
So many complications. The foremost being my own confusion and guilt over these lustful thoughts. How do you reconcile your own desires with the standards of the entire world? Some may do it effortlessly, others agonise over it for decades, but for me it took many years. By the time I made sense of it all, she was old. Half-blind, pained in the joints, and especially sensitive about her hips and rear. I wanted it more than ever, but not at her expense. So we never did.
It's been well over a decade since she died. When it happened, it hit me hard – I don't think I truly understood my feelings for her, physically or emotionally, until after the fact. I loved her, but I didn't know how much.
I've known other dogs since; felt affection for some, attraction to others, but none I desired enough to try anything with. I suppose it hasn't changed much from the beginning: sex is a desirable thing, but pursuing it is simply more effort than it's worth. The only difference is that now I know what I want. I hope that one day I'll meet somebody, like that lazy old malamute, who is worth the effort. Until then, I'm content with my memories, my fantasies, and my carefully curated collection of pornography.
---
So, that's my story. My entire perspective on dogs, sex and life changed by that one perfect evening.
If you're looking for cheap titillation, seek it elsewhere. This is a melancholic tale, not a sexy one. I originally wrote this for one of the two-dozen-or-so "First time" or "How did you know?" threads, but the more I wrote, the more I felt the need to get the story right. It's taken a while longer than I expected, but writing it has helped make some sense of the past.
---
WHY I AM A ZOOPHILE
I was 14, I think, and not much into sex. Not quite asexual, as sex was a desirable thing, but pursuing it was simply more effort than it was worth. I masturbated, like practically everybody at that age, but rarely did I want or imagine anything while doing it: no girls, no guys, no dogs, no anything. I was just after the sweet rush of hormones, and for that your right hand serves just as well as anything.
My family had always kept dogs, but my interest in them had waned over the years. As a toddler you couldn't keep me indoors, I had to be out there at all hours with them. As a child I spent less time in the yard, dogs were entertaining but not my responsibility. As an adolescent I couldn't have cared either way, they were there and I probably wasn't. This story concerns a female malamute, and she beautiful creature, though I didn't appreciate it at the time.
One summer evening a storm rolled in. I always watch a storm as it passes and this one was something special: thunder so deep it caused my heart to skip a beat, lightning so fierce I feared that my eyes would never recover, and clouds so dense the sky simply ceased to exist. They called it a “hundred year storm” and I hope to live another hundred years to see it's like again.
I sat on the back steps and watched this incredible display of natural fury to take my mind off things. I was a typical adolescent, dissatisfied with everything: school sucked, family sucked, life sucked. In hindsight so much if that seems trivial, but it's only natural at that age.
So I sat, alone, and watched the storm roll on.
The dog seemed unusually nervous. Normally she was quite placid and had handled storms without issue in the past. I don't know why this time was different. I called her over and gave her a scratch behind the ear - a courtesy, nothing more. To say she enjoyed it would be an understatement – she proceeded to headbutt me into the wall and pin me there in a desperate quest for attention. I couldn't help but laugh at her forwardness; how could I possibly say no?
Then came the erection. It wasn't due to anything that was going on at the time, it was one of those annoying 'no reason' erections that are so frequent during puberty. Like most erections though, it came with a rush, and suddenly I was aware of every feeling, every sensation, every experience of my body at that moment. And I was acutely aware of the body pressed against my mine.
The first thing to strike me was the warmth. Her body seemed to radiate energy: a perfect temperature that invited you to pull it closer, to embrace it and share warmth between two bodies.
I could feel the wetness of her nose even through my shirt. The cold wetness was contrasted against the heat of her breath – the violent clash happening overhead was nothing compared to what I felt on my chest.
Above all though, I could feel her fur! That fur against my skin was the most incredible thing I had ever experienced. Every hair seemed to tickle at my flesh, the most innocent of touches causing the most sensual feelings.
I pulled her close, burying my face in her neck. It could have been seconds, or minutes, or an hour later, but just as suddenly as it had come the sensation passed. There was nothing sexual, I was just a boy sitting awkwardly with an oversized dog across his lap. Yet I felt content. I liked this dog. I liked dogs. I had seen the beauty and felt the affection of this animal and it was good.
So I sat, with a friend, and watched the storm roll on.
I started to spend more time with her from then on. She was a lazy girl, but always friendly and loved company. For my part, I learned the value of a friend who just is, somebody who has nothing to lose or gain by association.
Over the following years I'd often think back to that night and the strange attraction I'd felt, ever so briefly. It started slowly, a pleasant recollection, but then it evolved. I'd had a sexual awakening, and there was no ignoring it now. I started thinking about the possibilities. The warmth of her body, the warmth of her belly. The wetness of her nose, the wetness of her tongue. The feeling of her fur, the feeling of her flesh. Was sex possible? Was sex sensible? Was sex moral? So many thoughts, so many ideas, so many complications.
So many complications. The foremost being my own confusion and guilt over these lustful thoughts. How do you reconcile your own desires with the standards of the entire world? Some may do it effortlessly, others agonise over it for decades, but for me it took many years. By the time I made sense of it all, she was old. Half-blind, pained in the joints, and especially sensitive about her hips and rear. I wanted it more than ever, but not at her expense. So we never did.
It's been well over a decade since she died. When it happened, it hit me hard – I don't think I truly understood my feelings for her, physically or emotionally, until after the fact. I loved her, but I didn't know how much.
I've known other dogs since; felt affection for some, attraction to others, but none I desired enough to try anything with. I suppose it hasn't changed much from the beginning: sex is a desirable thing, but pursuing it is simply more effort than it's worth. The only difference is that now I know what I want. I hope that one day I'll meet somebody, like that lazy old malamute, who is worth the effort. Until then, I'm content with my memories, my fantasies, and my carefully curated collection of pornography.
---
So, that's my story. My entire perspective on dogs, sex and life changed by that one perfect evening.
