Carl Isley - Dog show girl

"Right here," he yelled at Julia in a startling, near-soprano voice. "The camera's centered on this spot, so keep your dirtiest action in this area, give or take a yard or two."

Julia moved into the light beside him and they went into a conference together, with the director patting and stroking either the dog's head or one of her blue boobs — it was hard to tell which from where I stood. Then he backed off, leaving her there alone with her little dog. The other kids took positions on the floor around her in a semi-circle, acting the part of her audience.

"Okay, baby," the director called out. "As soon as the camera's rolling you just go into your thing. We'll keep on shooting continuously — two cameras covering the whole scene — long shot and close-up — let's get it all in one take."

"You better!" she said. "Clarence might not hold up if you need retakes. He's a one-shot man."

The director held up his hand and yelled, "Okay, we're rolling — and GO!"

Julia set the dog down and he trotted away from her, out of the circle of light. Then she took a cigarette that someone handed her and struck a "prostitute on a street-corner" pose, with hand on out-thrust hip.

A boy came walking in, wearing a large cardboard fig-leaf. He stopped, eyed Julia up and down, circled around her once, and then raised up his fig-leaf and flipped his red-painted prick at her in a hip-bump.

She put her nose in the air and turned away from him in scorn. He shrugged, bumped his blue ass towards her disdainfully and moved away.

Then Lord Clarence the poodle came high-stepping in. He stopped just as the boy had done, cocked his head and looked her over, and then circled around her once. Julia stood absolutely still, ignoring him altogether.

Clarence moved in close to her feet, sniffed around her for a bit and then all of a sudden he lifted his hind leg, assumed the classic curbside posture, and began pissing against her ankle. She still held her position but turned her head and glanced down. The dog went on pissing nonchalantly until he was finished and then moved away again and sat down nearby to watch her.

Julia looked down at the puddle she was standing in now and she wiggled her toes about sloshing them in the piss-pool. Then she bent down and dipped her hands into it and began dabbing her ear-lobes and neck and boobs and underarms as if it were some kind of dainty perfume. Finally she put a finger into her mouth and licked it, sampling the flavor, and she smiled down approvingly at Clarence. He sat up then in a begging position and began wagging his tail, and Julia turned sideways and wiggled her tail at him.

After that they circled around each other a couple more times and then Julia got down on hands and knees and they moved in close and sniffed each other's noses. Clarence ran around behind her and took a sniff of her ass, and then she bent down and did the same thing to him. They were making quite a production out of it. It was going to be something brand new for the movies, by all indications. And the real action hadn't even begun yet. So far I'd have given it a 'R' rating — not recommended for children under sixteen.

But things got pretty 'X'y from there on. Clarence scurried around behind her again and began licking away at her rear-end — asshole, cunt, the works. After a little bit of that action they reversed positions once again and she went to work on the little mutt's hindquarters.

The boys with the cameras had moved in now. No more long shots. Everything would be in full-screen close-ups from here on apparently. So I moved in myself, just beyond the circle of prop spectators, to be sure I didn't miss any of the action myself.

The little poodle was in a sort of spread-legged squat, his hind legs trembling, as Julia's pretty pink tongue worked up under the cleft of his tail-end. Then she flopped over suddenly onto her back, grabbed onto Clarence and pulled him up over her face. With his hind legs straddling her cheeks, she proceeded to rain kisses and lip-nuzzlings on his little prick, which didn't stay little very long thereafter. She sucked him up to a respectable dog-sized erection and then she did a quick flip over onto her back and twisted herself around while little Lord Clarence stood patiently by, quivering all over in anticipation of the delights to come. She popped open her legs with a dramatic flourish, aiming her split pussy point-blank at the dog and into the peering eyes of the floor-level cameras.

She whistled softly and snapped her fingers and Clarence gave a little answering yip and then leaped forward up into the V of her sprawled crotch. He climbed up over her belly with his front paws, his prick straining forward into the cleft below, his tail wagging furiously.

"Go, man," the director called out, clapping his hands. Already he was counting up his profits from this history-making film epic that he saw happening before his very cameras.

But Lord Clarence needed no director to urge him on at this point. He knew his part and carried it through without a hitch. Julia didn't have to guide him into her. She only laid a hand on the fuzzy topknot of his head and patted him affectionately while he squirmed his slim little butt and wormed his out-thrust prick up into the ready receptacle of her slit. As soon as he was well up inside he began a fast humping, pounding a furious tattoo against her.

Julia spread her legs even wider to an incredible near-180 degree split, raised her feet off the floor and kicked out in time with the rapid rhythm of Clarence's pumping action. She quivered her ass-cheeks, shook her boobs, and pounded out a syncopated counter-beat on the tile floor with the palms of her hands.

"Oohhhh, cock it to me!" she sang. "Drive it home!"

The cameras were right in there now — inches from the action — blocking my view. But I could still see Clarence's pompom-tipped tail wig-wagging furiously in the air and hear his shrill yips as he drove on toward orgasm.

Then all of a sudden both cameramen leaped up and backed away. Clarence had finally called it quits apparently and now he just lay still where he was, up against her belly and still plugged into her passage but obviously past his orgasm. Only his tail was still in action, waving in the air feebly but triumphantly to celebrate another smash performance under pressure.

I got up myself, assuming that this was the end of the act, ready to join everybody else in a round of applause. But the show wasn't over yet after all. There was a grand finale yet to come, and it turned out to be a piece of action that I guarantee had never appeared on any motion picture screen before in history.

Julia laid her hands on Clarence's back and held him there and then she eased herself up slowly to a squat — then to kneeling — and finally all the way up onto her feet, still with the little gray mop of a puppy pressed tight to her out-thrust belly.

She stroked his head and bumped her hips against him a couple of times to firm up the inside connection. Then she raised first one hand and then the other into the air, and lo and behold! Little Lord Clarence was hanging there in thin air, his paws braced against her belly and thighs, but supported only by his rigid, bulbous prick, jammed tight up inside her tight-clutching cunt.

She bumped her hips again and then did a hula grind, but Clarence never budged — he was firmly locked on. Then, smiling broadly, she went into a little spread-legged dance step — spinning and gliding about the floor in her bizarre poodle pussy-patch.

It ended finally with her flopping down onto her back again, grabbing hold of Clarence, and then the two of them went into a wild final fuck with both of them hip-jerking together even more frantically than before, and both of them barking, "Yip-yip-yip!" at one another.