All Over Red Rover

In the past, Peter_Pan has steadfastly refused to encroach on the subject of bestiality. It is a genre I personally find without any sexual merit, implicitly droll as well as being completely demeaning to the female fraternity.

Having said that however, a chance conversation with a young lady this morning…and I stress, she is a teenage girl of impeccable pedigree and diligence, fully catalysed my thoughts on this arguably sordid topic. Her experience, recounted with neither regret nor embarrassment fully shocked me, but at the same time opened my eyes to the possibility that such an eventuality, whilst hardly a domestic ritual may perhaps occur with a greater frequency than we are led to believe.


This is Sophie’s story.


**

Like millions of young girls worldwide, the last thing Sophie felt like doing was getting out of bed – let alone going to school. Bed was safety, comfort, warmth – the surrogate womb if you will. It was a place to dream of growing-up, of future romance and of late, somewhere to caress her developing body with not a little TLC. At just sixteen now, masturbation had become as frequent an event in her life as flossing those pretty teeth.

If there is anything measurably sexier than a cute young schoolgirl first thing in the morning winging her way to the bathroom just moments after she’s woken up, I can’t immediately nominate it. Tousled hair flopping across her shoulders as she rubs the sleep from her eyes. Youthful figure barely concealed by that semi-transparent nightdress that seems to cling to everything it shouldn’t. And remember, I have three daughters!

For at least two years, Homer, a huge Labrador of mixed parentage but who Sophie loved with a passion, had slept at the foot of her bed. With the onset of winter a deal was struck between them and Homer was granted leave to snuggle up on the bed with her. She never had need of a hot water bottle let’s say.

The morning in question, she had dragged herself out of bed and was standing near the full-length mirror wondering if Debbie, her older sister, was yet out of the shower. Her eyes strayed to the reflected surface and as she caught sight of her own image, she stared at the lithe schoolgirl whose breasts were clearly visible through her nightwear. A hot flush coursed through her as she lowered her eyes momentarily, almost ashamed to have even noticed such an eventuality.

The girl in the mirror smiled back at her and with slow deliberation gradually raised the hem of her nightdress, revealing a pair of dainty floral panties. Sophie watched fascinated as her virtual doppelganger began to gently rub the front of those girlish briefs, her camel-toe now clearly visible.

To what extent the reflected apparition may have influenced Sophie’s fingered progress that morning is a moot point. Right that second Homer, perhaps drawn by the girl’s visual sexual activity, maybe latching-on to the female scent…padded across to his mistress and thrust one very moist, if not intrigued nose well up between her legs.

Fully shocked out of her reverie, Sophie tried to push him away but found him determined in the extreme to further his quest for knowledge.