The huge bull mastiff dog came walking into the back yard of the converted farmhouse with a stiff-legged gait. His big, blunt head turned slowly from side to side, sniffing. His amber eyes glinted and his long, red tongue lolled out.

The dog wanted to get laid.

The big brute had a hard-on, a gigantic fuck-tool quite in proportion to his powerful, two-hundred-pound body. He lusted for someplace to slide that hard-on, someplace hot and wet and slippery. His balls were swollen as big as melons. He needed to empty them.

There was not a bitch in heat in the area. His keen canine senses assured the dog of that. And yet the dumb brute had scented hot pussy. That was why his cock had gotten stiff.

Being a mere dog, the mastiff did not understand this, nor did he question it. A dog does not have a well-developed sense of depravity or morality.

A dog does not realize that bestiality is wrong.

But this dog knew what a hot cunt was and how it pulled on his prick until he shot his wad, and now the huge animal was being driven wild by that definite aroma of hot pussy.

The delicious scent seemed to come from the farmhouse.

He sniffed, puzzled. There seemed to be two separate and distinct scents, two hot cunts, the aromas wafting over him together. He eyed the house balefully. He wanted to go up and scratch on the back door. But he was hesitant. He was brave enough, but he was not inclined to approach strange humans who sometimes hit him with a stick. With a little grunt, the big brute curled up, his head resting on his forepaws.

He was going to wait there… although he had no idea what it was that he was waiting for. That aroma was compelling to him, it drew him like a magnet. His cock stayed stiff. He was belly down on the ground and his big prick was plowing a furrow into the earth. His hindquarters twitched a little, sliding his cock along the ground. He rumbled in his throat.