Crystel – Every dog has his day

That’s an old saying my Great Uncle used whenever he reminisced about his pussy-chasing youth. Hey, this mongering gene runs deep in my family I guess, and my Dog Days are still in full swag.

Earlier this week, while walking around the corner to grab a Trike, I noticed an interesting female figure in red walking towards me. I slowed my pace a bit so as to let her catch up and met her just in front of the trike area.

This was in a back-street neighborhood, so I assumed she was leaving her house on her way to somewhere. She even had a 4-legged companion accompanying her down the road. It made me ponder what the difference between him and I was at that moment. I think I had it: One of us was a scruffy, pussy-hounding mongrel….and the other was, well, just a dog.

As she came closer, I saw that she had a really cute and intriguing face, but was a little bit shocked to see a foreigner in her own back yard there. I said hi and pretended to be lost, which she seemed to receive well enough. Her name was Crystel and she was fine to let me walk with her up towards the trike area. She said she was on her way to a friend’s place, so I knew I had to act fast if I wanted this to go anywhere.

In the few remaining steps we had left, I calmly joked around with her a little bit; disarming her just enough to drop the famous question: “Would you like to join me at my hotel for a while?” And with that infectious smile of hers, Crystel said, “Ok!”, so we were on our way in the nearest trike. What a cute girl!

We got back to my little short-time pad, which is not the same hotel I’m actually staying at. You see, on days when I know I’m going to be on patrol for new trim, I’ll start off by getting a second cheap little hotel room just for that purpose. I have too many other “girlfriends” here in town and cannot be seen heading into my regular hotel with Trike Patrol quarry. It’s really a small town and people do nothing but gossip, or “chikka-chikka”, for a living here. If gossip were an Olympic event, Pinoys would win gold every time.

Once inside, Crystel seemed a little apprehensive at first, but she was no stranger to this scenario and eventually assumed the position that all naughty Filipinas know to assume once inside a strange tourist’s hotel: Down on the knees! That was more like it. She offered up a fairly energetic and thorough blow job, with ample amounts of hand-wanking and ball-licking mixed in. I smiled.

Then, adding to the anticipation, she laid back on the bed so we could both masturbate in front of each other a little while. I love it when a girl is not afraid to pleasure herself; that clit-rubbing they do to themselves really turns me on.

When I finally got my dirty dog dick into her now moist cock-muzzle, I was delighted at how damn tight it was. And judging by her groans and grimaces, the intense feeling was mutual. Crystel clenched her eyes shut and pointed her chin skyward while I plowed away at her.

It looked as if she was entering her own special place during those moments, probably hoping her Asian-sized orifice would hold up against my Western-sized girth. It was a clash of Civilizations of sorts, on a genital level, and by just observing the sheer physics of something thrashing deep inside something else, I think it’s safe to say my merlot-helmeted conquistador was the victor.

After changing positions a few more times, I finished up in the only manner that a self-respecting, cunt-crushing canine would: Doggy-style! And to honor nature’s intentions even more so, I spastically infused Crystel’s soft fleshly innards with my species-continuing DNA.

As you’ll notice though, most of it globbed out of her freshly fucked slit and onto the short time sheets, so hopefully no litters of JohnT pups 9 months from now; but then again, I did only say “most” of it.

Hey, somebody’s gonna have to take over Trike Patrol in 2031, right?