Tackled by SampsonWoof



17 August 2014 at 19:47:45 MDT

At long last, the light began to change. Just a little. Shadows were
longer and dusk approached much more rapidly. No one was happier than
my bartender buddy, who lived and breathed football.

I dunno. I've never been a huge fan, preferring the action of hockey
or basketball. Watching NFL or CFL kinda bored me, to be honest. There
was, however, an aspect of football I liked: playing it.

Every Sunday that didn't feature a deluge of 'liquid sunshine' meant a
game in the park. My pal would text a different breakfast spot for us
to meet at each week and then we'd head over and meet the other guys.

Summer did offer its own rewards, though. Most of us weren't too shy
about letting the hot sun warm our fur. Shorts and not much else. What
else was a dog like me gonna want, anyway? Exercise, friendship and...

Oh, I did play a good game. It's not like I stood agape at the other
guys. Their sinewy bodies, fur shining in the light of another summer
day was only an added benefit. Being able to take one of them down was
like the icing on the cake. My claws and pawpads gripping their naked
torsos as I pulled them to the ground at full sprint made me look
forward to Sundays all year round.

This week, the tables got turned. Being fast, I wasn't used to being
stopped on my way to the end of the field. But there I was, tackled by
the brute force of my pal, the ball suddenly bouncing pathetically from
my paws and out of bounds.

His claws dug into my ribcage and pecs, his aroma filling my nostrils
as he grunted and chuckled at my grandiose fall to earth. I felt his
chest move as he breathed. Each muscle of his seemed to be touching
every part of me.

That's when he licked me. Right across my muzzle. Big, stupid grin of
his meeting my surprise. I must have looked shocked as he instantly
loosened his grip and scowled. Getting up, he stormed over to the ball
and picked it up.

"Yer hard to catch," he growled. "Dinner. My place. Bring beer."

I blinked and slowly made my way up on my footpaws. Were we going on a

That evening, as I undid the laces on his football pants, there was no
doubt whatsoever.

Submission Information

Visual / Digital

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