It spurred him on to find all the other people involved on that day.He called Ian Sinclair immediately, pushing down his anger.“Sinclair”“Hello,...Ian,” John began. “John Colshaw here.”“Oh, John!” he almost shouted, “Congratulations. What can I do for you?”“Nothing to do with work really,” John said. “I need some information about something else.”“Fire away,” said the Scottish voice at the other end.“Have you any memories of the conference we went to, four years ago?”“Strange question,” he. “He can smell it. They all can. But they won't fuck you, until I give the command.” His finger withdrew, took some moisture with it and spread it around my ass.Shivering I sat there, hypnotised by his voice, his touch. “He would lick you, though. And now he is more than just an animal.” Steadily he worked the juices leaking from my cunt towards and in my ass. My trembling fingers ran over the Irish Wolfhound's body. Down, along his flanks, towards his dick. He was panting, an eagerness in his. More

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