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Desdmona's Erotic Story Contests
2005 Erotic 2000-Word Short Story Contest
Third Prize

Sam Smells Sex

My old roommate, Dave, has this dog, Sam, that I swear can smell sex. Or maybe it’s testosterone. Or semen. I’m still not quite sure, but it was a real problem for a while. Sam, by the way, is a female, in case you’re wondering.

I lived in the basement of this old house. The place was huge and wide open.

You entered through the kitchen and down a flight of stairs. There was no door at the top in the kitchen, but there was at the bottom, which was cool because if somebody needed me and had to knock on the door, they would have to come all the way down instead of me going all the way up to see what was what.

My girlfriend, Carly, used to stay over a couple nights a week, but as soon as we’d start making love, Sam would make her way down the stairs and begin to howl right outside the door. We thought it was kind of cute the first two or three times, but then it really started to get on our nerves. Time didn’t matter to her. It could be two o’clock in the morning and she would wake up, bound down the stairs and start in. She woke the other roommates and the neighbors. The police were even called on two occasions. It was kind of funny to see poor Dave standing on the porch in the middle of the night, perplexed and trying to apologize to the cops.

We quit doing it at my place altogether after the second police incident, and it wasn’t long before the whole “dog thing,” as Carly put it, destroyed the relationship. She was horny all the time and wanted to screw constantly, but her roommate was kind of a pain in the ass about me being at their place so much, so we couldn’t do it there, or anywhere, more than a couple times a week.

That was all it took to kill the relationship – a couple weeks of sneaking around,

doing it half as often and it was all over. I suggested we get a place together, but that was out of the question because her parents were hard-line Christians who would never allow cohabitation before marriage. If they only knew how great their daughter was at blowjobs, but that’s a whole other story. It was either the dog or her. Well, it wasn’t my dog; I couldn’t just get rid of it. There was nothing I could do, so it ended. Carly and I were done. I wanted to blame Sam, but one look at that face and all was forgiven. She was the sweetest shepherd mix, gentle and loving toward everyone, you just couldn’t stay mad at her.

I have to admit I was as horny as Carly was, so with her gone I found myself jerking off two or three times a day. But even that got Sam going. No sooner would I lie down and get into it, she would start in. Even if I tried it in the shower, without fail, there she’d be, outside my door howling her little lungs out. It got so I couldn’t achieve release in my own house, and I was getting pretty backed up.

It wasn’t until a few days after Carly had left me that I came up with the “smell of sex theory”. I needed to find a solution because this clearly could not go on. I decided to conduct a little experiment. I called for Sam, gave her a treat and told her to lie down. I closed the door, stood next to it and played with myself until I got hard. She stayed quiet. Okay, it wasn’t just arousal or foreplay that set her off. I kept going. All of a sudden she just went off, barking to beat the band. I looked down and saw that a bead of semen was sitting in the slit of my dick. Was that it? She could smell that? I knew they trained these dogs to sniff drugs and things like that, but this was the first time I’d ever heard of a cum-sniffing dog.

Now that I had an idea what got Sam so riled up, I needed to either shut her up or find a new way to do the things I do. I became obsessed. I couldn’t lock her out of the house because she would just come right back in through the doggie door, and I couldn’t lock her in another room because she apparently could smell right through walls. I waited until she went outside to shit, and then I would try to jerk off in the two or three minutes she’d be out there. This wasn’t the greatest plan. Rarely did I get off in time and when I did, it was too rushed to enjoy. Plus I was going insane. Every time I heard her move upstairs I would drop what I was doing and go see if she was going out. Nine times out of ten, she was just stretching or moving from room to room. I needed something to distract her and keep her out there longer. I fed her chocolate. This made her sick and gave her the Hershey squirts something awful, but at least she stayed outside most of the day and left me alone. I felt bad, but I had needs damn it. I only did that once, though, because the guilt was just too much.

The next day I was back to waiting for Sam to shit on her own. As soon as I was sure she’d gone out, I hightailed it down the stairs, shoved my pants down to my ankles, flopped down on the bed and started yanking away at warp speed. What I didn’t realize, though, was that in my haste I had not closed my door all the way and I was so into what I was doing (I was jerking to this girl from high school called “The Beardless Clam”) that I didn’t notice Sam come in.

“The Clam” had always been my ace in the hole. Her memory could get the job done in two minutes flat. I exploded. Most of the jizz formed a pool on my hand next to my thumb while the rest ran down my wrist. I had broken a sweat and maybe even a record for time. I rolled over to grab my jerk-off towel off the floor, and that’s when I saw Sam sitting up on her haunches, tongue out and watching, seemingly enjoying the show. And best of all, Sam wasn’t howling. I nearly jumped out of my skin. My first instinct was to cover up. I quickly grabbed for the covers but forgot that my hand had cum on it. It got all over the black comforter. I was pissed because I knew it was going to leave an ugly stain.

Sam calmly stood up and walked over to me. “Shoo! Go on!” I ordered.

She ignored me and sniffed around the sticky stuff. I kicked at her from under the covers “Go! Get the fuck out of here!” She was undeterred.

She started to lap it up. I was disgusted. “Oh, Jesus, no!” I cried. I tried to push her away, but she just wouldn’t go. She was enjoying it.

When she was satisfied that she had gotten every little bit, she tried to thank me by licking my face. “Oh no you don’t,” I said. “No fucking way.” I jumped out of bed and tried make a run for the bathroom, but since I forgot my pants were still around my ankles, I only got about three feet before I fell flat on my face. Well, not flat on it – there was still enough of my face exposed to let Sam adequately show her appreciation.

It was somewhere around this point that I heard, “Oh my fucking God!” from across the room. I pushed Sam away long enough to see Carly standing at the door with horror in her eyes and her hands covering her mouth.

I got my own look of horror. “Oh, shit!”

Carly turned and raced up the stairs.

“Wait!” I screamed. “It’s not what you think!” I scrambled to my feet, pulled up my pants and ran after her.

I caught up with her outside, just as she was getting into her car. “You’re a sick fuck, you know that?” she said slamming the door.

“Let me explain,” I said in desperation.

“Oh I think I’ve got the picture! And to think I was coming by to apologize for being too harsh!” She started the car.

“It was an accident!”

“Ugh. That’s just sick!”

“No, I mean she just came in while I was jerking off!”

“I don’t want to hear any more.” She put the car in reverse.

“I was thinking of you while I was doing it!” I lied.

“Fuck you!” She stepped on the gas and burned rubber out of the driveway.

“You won’t mention this to anyone will you?” I yelled as I ran after her.

She reached the street, dropped it into drive and stood on the gas. She must have gone zero to sixty in four seconds flat. “I figured out how to make Sam stop howling!” I yelled, like she could actually hear.

I was standing in the street, alone and pathetic, watching her break speed records to get away from me. I felt a presence. I looked down and there was Sam looking up at me with that cute little face of hers. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it almost looked as if she were smiling at me. “You know that once she tells everyone what she thinks she saw my life will be over, right?” I said.

Sam barked as if to say yes.

I shrugged my shoulders and headed for the house. “Come on, Girl, let’s get out of the street.

Vinny Smith is a former writer of cheesy local commercials for cable TV. Now he is a writer of cheesy sex stories for ... well, he doesn’t know who they’re for. He just has fun writing them and hopes others will have fun reading them. Some of his stories can be found at and

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To: Vinny Smith

Desdmona's Erotic Story Contests
2005 Erotic 2000-Word Short Story Contest
Third Prize