"I could hear Bo calling me… sort of a low howl, and the whining."

"I turned off the light and went to bed naked and tried to sleep, but my hands kept going to my breasts and twisting my nipples. Not a hard twist, just enough to make them tingle and ache and feel funny."

"And then I was on my back, legs up, hands down in my crotch, working away with busy – busy fingers."

"God, how I finger-fucked myself! Two fingers in and out as fast as I could move them. I guess I was unconsciously trying to imitate Bo's speed."

"But I missed his warmth and big, strong body and the feel of his fur, and the way he panted with his tongue lolling out and the way he licked me. And the way he responded to me, the way his big brown eyes followed me everywhere."

"But even using my finger – two of them jabbing deep into my cunt – I still had a tremendous orgasm. I closed my eyes and had a vision – Bo fucking me with that long, hot, wet pink candle of a cock of his – and I came like lightning hit my guts."

"It left me gasping and shaking. And I heard him out there in the dark, calling to me. And I wanted to go to him."

"I fought it a little. I loved him and I knew he needed me. But I was afraid of myself. I was afraid I'd offer myself to him. It was weird. But a sex-ridden, all-mixed-up fifteen-year-old girl can get so emotionally screwed up sometimes, it isn't funny. My whole life was greyhounds, racing, and my dad (and he was impossible to talk to… he was like a hermit almost; he never talked to me). I was in isolation, didn't have any girl friends or boyfriends, and kept a lot to myself… All I had was Bo."

"So I lay in bed with my fists clenched trying not to hear him. And my belly was itching again and I was rubbing my thighs tight together and my breasts were getting a hot feeling."

"Finally I just started crying and got up and put on an old robe (an old robe deliberately) and went out to him."