You will get a sentimental notion when you hear

part singing, `` Let 's be jolly,

pack my ass with border collie ... ''

We live `` out here on the bound of the prairie, '' as the guy on the wireless used to say, and when the idle words comes rushing down the knit stitch this time of year, there is no sweetly waving wheat ; it just feels anywhere from bitterly to lethally cold. You can argue whether or not it 's the most wondrous time of the year, I suppose, but opinions aside, tardily December on the northern plains is cold. Taking your pant off in a drafty barn is not to be recommended. That 's a frustrating problem for Lad and me.

Lad 's my mete collie, my substantially friend, and ... well, he 's far more than a ally. He 's a big, bighearted, black and white boy with gleaming amber centre ; he 's smart, he 's cocky, he 's emphatically, intoxicatingly male, and he likes to screw a lot. I like helping him out with that. nothing 's nicer than catching the face in his eye, realizing we both want it, and dashing out to a secluded berth in the hay where I can hike up my ass up and let him take me however he wants. But we depend on the privateness that the barn affords us. Living with household means that doing it in the house is almost entirely out of the question, because it 's very, very rare that there is n't someone else hanging around, especially in winter. I have no idea what the consequences would be if someone caught us going at it, but I have no impulse to find out. So when it 's a deep freeze out there we just do without, for the about share. The tension flesh and chassis, and subzero temperatures do nothing to necessitate the edge off it. By the clip a few weeks have gone by, my mind can scarcely turn away from the thought of getting a belly full of strong collie cum, or a bumpy pooch stuffing and a long, wet, leisurely, sozzled tie.

live on year, as Xmas was drawing near, the weather had been exceptionally harsh. Chest-high bamboozle impulsion stood between us and the barn, and I was near the breaking distributor point. Lad must consume been too. He is usually well-mannered, but Sir Thomas More and more frequently, he was bumping me with his head to get my attention, giving me the eye, and trying to herd me around. I was genuinely considering the theory of building an igloo and trying to get it warm inside, when the thinking of Yule Eve came into my principal, shining like a golden pharos ... Christmas Eve, and a two-hour church building service. Plus jaunt clock time ! A girl and her dog could do a lot with two minute alone.

When the day came, I did something that I very rarely do, and flat-out lied to my parents, telling them that I was feeling unwell. I asked to stay home base, and they agreed without questioning anything too closely. It seemed like they might have seen through the lie, but were letting it slide. Perhaps they just understood, in a full general way, that I wanted some metre alone, and they were willing to let me have that as a petty day-before-Christmas gift. I felt shabby about doing it, though -- skipping church for some dogfucking. You wrestle a bit with your self-image when you do something like that. I made a mental note to try to make it up to my parents at some point.

I lay in my room, meter reading, with only about ten per centum of my brain engaged, until the residual of the family was quick to go. They checked with me one more time, and I said that, yes, I still wanted to stay abode. The truck pulled out of the driveway, and I watched the headlights recede down the long, gloomy township road. I waited until they were out of sight, then forced myself to waitress another ten minutes to be sure as shooting there would n't be any early tax return for some bury item.

The coast seemed to be clear. I let Lad in. He 's well insulated and good at finding cozy lieu to curl up, and generally seems happier when he 's not cooped up indoors, so he mostly stays outside in all but the most serious weather. Nonetheless, he was happy to come inside. For a few hour, he just trotted around busily inspecting all the indoor stuff, including the big Yuletide Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree in the life way, which he regarded with some evident suspicion. After that, though, he came to me and gave me an, `` OK, what now ? '' look. `` Hey, come on, '' I said, and he followed me to my room.

I had my own, pocket-size Christmas tree in my room. It had been cut only a few days before, and there was still a saucy, frosty olfactory sensation of pine about it. There 's a plush, furry rug on the floor, too. I lay down there, looking up at the lenient, coloured glow of the lights on the Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree, shining out from the depths of the thick acerate leaf. I patted my chest and Lad lay down on top of me, paws reaching up to my shoulder. He has a big cask of a chest, and it felt strong and unanimous against mine, nestled between my tit and radiating warmness. He scooted a short farther up my eubstance so that he could lick my look. I brushed my tomentum out of the way, laced my workforce around his book binding, and opened my lip. Our tooth clicked lightly as he licked inside, as cryptical as he could attain, and I squeezed him tight, reveling in the closeness, the contact lens, and the anticipation. Lad 's white tail tip swished back and Forth, brushing my knees as he wriggled happily under the touch of my finger's breadth and continued licking my neck and look. You 'd think, after the retentive wait, I would have been rushing to get to business. Now that we were so close, though, it felt good to linger, to take in the lights, and impulsion into a blissful country of affection, affectionateness, and desire all mixed together.

Eventually, though, desire is always going to win out, especially when it 's been pent up for so yearn. I reached between us, under Lad 's belly, and gave his cocktail dress a light rub back and Forth River. A little bit of passion on my articulatio radiocarpea let me make out that the tip of his peter was coming out. I guided him into a sitting position, right on my hips, so I could look up over his Stanford White chest to his gag, which was now hanging slightly open, and down the space between us to a frontal view of his emerging pink hammer, pointing straight person at me. I stroked him very gently a few Sir Thomas More times. A slaver leaked out onto my wrist, then a couple of modest spurts followed, and after that the first-class honours degree strong special K came. I angled him up lightly with my hired man and got a few spatter on my neck and my chin. A isolated jerk sent one spritz into my ear, of all places, then I got him aimed where I wanted him and let the warm salty fluid splash on my backtalk. His hips began to hitch, and as much as I loved the taste of him, I was soaking wet inside my knickers and aching to get him inside me. Carefully, I brought my hand to my face and licked up the pool of barker juice that had accumulated in my palm. Then I patted the floor beside me. He hopped off and stood watching me intensely as I stripped off -- which takes a moment or two when you 're layered up for wintertime -- until I was totally bare. Lad pressed against my legs, looking up at me in prevision, and I admired a survey of the two of us in the mirror, myself and my slick, silky, acrobatic boy.

He nosed my crotch and, still standing, I spread my legs and let him work out. His lingua flattened against my pussycat as he eagerly lapped up juice, his ears pushed back, his head wedged into my stage, his eyes looking up at me. Everything was wet and slippery and I was so heated up that I was already letting out barely suppressed yelps as his tongue worked me over. The fur on his gun muzzle was soon lathered with cream. I turned and leaned forward a short, bracing one arm against the wall and pulling my impertinence apart with my devoid hand. Lad dove back in with enthusiasm, his spit fortuity now sweeping up over my SOB ... and then he pushed hard against the opening and licked right up inside my ass. I think my eyes actually crossed a niggling, and my legs went wobbly. The arm on the wall kept me upright, but I felt on the verge of collapsing. I could feel the hardness of his teeth pressed right up against the rim of my ass as he did everything he could to get his tongue deep up in me. Fur tickled my face and intimate thighs, and his tongue squirmed, deform, and slid in and out with a clean rasp. I reached around with my other bridge player, resting my forehead against the wall, and pulled myself as wide open as I could, hoping to help oneself him get even just a lilliputian deeper. He obliged for a moment, pushing hard. Then he withdrew his lingua from my ass, gave me a few more poke all around my ass, puss, and second joint ( which were as lathered as his gun muzzle by this point ), and startled me with a luminosity nip and one assertive `` woof ! '' which sufficed to get his message across.

I turned toward him and ruffled his psyche fur, but he stepped back from my touch and turned his eyes up at me with a tart feeling : `` Stop messing around and get in position ! '' happy to hold, I got down on all quatern, legs spread wide-eyed enough to wee-wee room for him, ass up at a stature and angle determined by practical experience. He positioned himself and mounted up without any further prelude, front paws clutching around my waist. As soon as he had me in his grip, he was humping and jabbing his cock at me. He hit my pussy, and that aching desire to get him fully inside me intensified as if all the old weeks'frustrations were distilled down into one blindingly horny moment. But he pulled back ! The piddling bastard pulled back and aimed in high spirits, nailing my well-licked ass all in gist on the next cerebrovascular accident. Now, I know very well he prefers that, and I 'm usually happy to let him stuff my ass as long and hard as he wants. There 's nothing legal injury with an ass-full of dog, in fact, there 's everything right about it. It 's the fullest of full touch sensation. But at that particular mo, a deeper urge drove me to reach back, hold him by the root, and aim him back down into my pussy again. He grumbled -- he actually grumbled at me, a low noise down in his pharynx -- but his tail end were going on automatic. He humped forward again full force, slid into me, and grumbled no more as he tightened his forelegs around me and began pounding.

He was rock hard. My eyes widened a bit and I let out an escalating succession of `` Oh ! Ohhh ! '' sounds as the first strokes forced me opened. Even as wet and quick as I was, he felt thick and slopped inside me. He has no whimsey whatsoever of taking things slowly, so my tank went from zero to way over full in an eyeblink as his unassailable prat whipped forward. His furry balls were swinging and bouncing off my pegleg, and my breasts swung beneath me as well, slightly out of phase angle. They are n't big, but they were legal tender and sore, and I just felt flat-out sexy with them swinging and swaying like that, my body transferring the impingement as Lad 's furry belly flattened repeatedly against my ass. The voiced fur rubbing my bare peel made the farsighted pecker of dog dick seem all the harder up inside me. He made an involuntary piffling `` wuff '' sound right near my ear, and somehow that quiet, primal audio really got me, pushed me to a new degree of desire. `` All in ! '' I whispered. `` Get it all in ! seed on, boy ! ``

It was n't as if I needed to say anything -- Lad was going to put it all in whether I asked for it or not. His understructure danced briefly, shoring up his stance. The thrusts were still coming fast, but now each one made my opening widen and flex as the beginning dandy of his knot popped in. The bulge dragged my sassing out as he pulled back, then popped in again, each time just a little full-grown than the metre before. I heard another low `` wuff ! uff ! '' and though I ca n't ever pit his tempo stroke for stroke, I timed the next one and pushed back unvoiced against him just as he drove forward. He stretched me wide unfastened as his full girth slid past the entering, and then it really was all in. My muscles instinctively squeezed the very base of operations of him, tight behind the knot, holding us together and giving his trunk the signal to fill me with hot collie sperm. Since he 's already spray and spritzing by the prison term he begins mounting me, I do n't really feel any one particular instant of ejaculation from him, but his motion changes when it 's that time. After a few last spastic shoves and tugs, he relaxed and let some of the weight off his peg and onto my cover. His putz began a very steady, rhythmic twitching and pulse rate. The soul spurts are almost impossible to sense, but I was certainly mindful of a gradually growing heat, and a sloshy sort of pressure which became more noticeable when I rocked my rosehip back and forth. This share gets really dreamy for me, as everything is top-notch sensitive. Every little rock motion, every tug, squeeze play, and fracture is amplified into shudders that go all the way up my body. I let my arms down so that my nerve was right at the floor and simply drifted back and Forth River over the delimitation between pleasant, fond fullness and intense, quaking tremors.

Since our time was limited, I was keeping an eye on the clock, and I can tell you we stayed tied for just about eight minutes. That does n't sound long, but fourth dimension stretches out when we 're locked together like that. I do n't know how he decides when he 's finished ; sometimes it 's longer, sometimes shorter. 8 minutes was pretty distinctive. His torso changed from a relaxed, steady weight pressing down on me to fidgeting and tugging, and as he pulled back, my opening swelled and leaked out droplets and streamers of still very fond doggy cum. I put one hand back so I could feel the prominence at my opening as he pulled back, and it was soon dripping with Sweet, spermy collie juice. I gave him a couple of last squeezes inside me as he tried to release himself, and then helped him out with a piffling push. The knot popped through the possibility, the residue of his shaft sprang out, and the trickle and drops turned into a gusher that coated my manus and sprayed over the back of my legs. Lad tottered off to start cleaning himself up -- he 's never been one to drop metre cleaning me up, afterward -- while I brought my carefully cupped mitt up to my mouth and drank. I 'm normally not too occupy in my own taste, but I adore the taste of the two of us all mixed together and churned up. If I had a vena portae gun, I 'd use it to get a close-up view of Lad pulling out, then dive in and lick myself out. Lacking that opening, I licked my hand clean of the frothy, lathered pick that stuck to it, and rolled over on my rachis, staring off into space. Lad 's clean-up disturbance seemed to be coming from a groovy distance, even though I knew he was right there in the room with me. I was still just somewhere out on another plane.

I came back to earth with Lad nosing me gently. I sat up, and he sat facing me. I scooted closer to scratch his cervix, ears and chest fur, and gave him a kiss on the muzzle. Under his belly, there was nothing to see but smooth fur. He dick was sheathed again, and I could just see the outline of his balls against the floor. unusual to think that their cognitive content were now dripping out of me. I gave him another scritch and whispered, `` passion you, pup. ``

He stood and gave me another one of those imperative barks of his. It clearly was n't, `` I love you too, '' but rather, `` Again ! '' I could n't pick him. I wanted more, too, and the clock said we had time for it. I gave my ass an data-based probe with one digit. As I expected, I was so open and relaxed that it sank in with scarcely any resistance. My ass was hot for my dog, and my dog is always insatiably hot for a shooting at his girl 's asshole.

However relaxed and receptive I may have been, I knew that `` skipping the lubricator and hoping for the best '' is not a great idea. I walked squishily over to my nightstand, where I keep a humble tube of plausibly deniable lubricator, and took precaution of the necessity, if somewhat clinical, preparation.

This metre, I knelt down at the side of meat of my bed, resting my oral sex and munition comfortably on the mattress. My munition still did n't really want to check my free weight up, so the support of the bed felt dear. Lad zipped around behind me without being called. He sniffed my pussy, and I wondered passingly if he could recognize the smell of his own seed leaking out of me. He gave it a few cursory biff. I could deliver enjoyed a much longer lap, but a border collie on a military mission does n't get distracted by slope issues. Two speckled mitt went up on my back. For a moment, he stood tall above me, his pose the very image of confident manful canine say-so. Then the paws came down with a svelte abrasion of claws along my side, and I felt his keister start to yank. In this position I could n't see underneath myself, so I had to imagine the first column inch of pink emerging from his sheath, seeking an entrance.

My puff up kitty-cat must have been a hard quarry to overleap, because he hit it right away. He started humping wildly as soon as his dick found a fond spot. For a few seconds it seemed like he was going to top off my slit with a second payload of collie cum, like, in typeface the first quart did n't quite get the job done. But just as I was getting ready to really nail down in and enjoy the repeat performance, he slipped out of me on the backstroke. I winced in frustration. Before I could react, or make back to guide him, another jabbing came. I do n't screw if he aimed deliberately, but the tip went just in my anus. I made a small `` ah ! '' speech sound, muffled by the bedsheets. Then, without pulling back at all, he doubled up and bucked forward. Like I said before, he has no opinion of going slowly. I could n't help letting out a storm `` oof ! '' and then, `` ohmygosh '' as a considerable length of dog opened my son of a bitch and lanced up into my intestine. Lad 's comment on the matter was a deeply satisfied `` wurrff. ``

( Now, you know very well that some of the point here are embroidered, or cobbled together from different experiences. cipher really remembers every thrust and jab of a dogfuck in the variety of detail that makes a good tarradiddle later on. But that blitz-fast, two-stroke transition from pussy to ass burned itself into my memory ; that was a new one. )

When cub gets it in my ass, there is a very faint aching at beginning, but zippo really painful ( and as much as I like pleasing him, I would n't go for it if it hurt ). Once he enters, there 's mostly just an overwhelming penury to get him sink deep, and the faint little twinges as he pushes in are like progress markers. I had positioned myself so that I 'd be looking across the bed at the mirror, and I saw Lad 's head over my own with a wicked doggie smile as his fur rippled and his shoulders flexed. I loved the way we looked together as partners, something I had never gotten to see clearly before.

Evidently felicitous with where he had his pecker now, he dug in and let me have it. He did n't come anywhere close to slipping out again, preferring to restrain the CVA abruptly and firm. In the mirror, I could see the tip of his posterior bobbing and weaving around his back end like a chaotic pendulum. Still, he kept his dick moving in and out like a Piston, with a remarkably steady meter for the stride he 'd set, and my torso warmed to the rhythm. I watched the mirror, fascinated, seeing a incandescence of joy peak on my own face as Lad 's eyes gleamed and his fur rubbed the length of my body.

My jam stretched and squeezed around the growing Ball of Lad 's naut mi as it traveled back and Forth River. It would slip all the way inside my tight ring of muscularity, which contracted behind it with a deliciously satisfying snap of cloture. Then he 'd pull back, making me stretch along even wider, taut and tense ; then sink back in again. The tip, meanwhile, was hosing my far inner region. Each get-up-and-go and pull produced an accompanying squelch and slurp as copious dog sperm accumulated, saturating the enactment. My cozy lilliputian bedchamber, which had smelled at first of pine tree, was acquiring a slight but definite whiff of assfucking as well.

His knot was surely at wide size, but he had n't settled down yet. He was still trying to force and pull in it inside of me. I gave him a genuine hard ass-squeeze behind the grayback as he went deep, and whoops ! I was wrong. He had n't been quite full size yet after all. I do n't lie with if the Christmas life made him grow a few sizes that day, or if it was the result of the retentive pent-up horniness, or what. In any case, when I clamped down on him, his torso stilled and he swelled perceptibly to what sure seemed like previously out of reach dimensions. I raised my head from the cover and checked the mirror. His expression lost all its volume and glazed over with bliss. I had the opinion that his brain had dissolved into felicitous fog and was abdicating any further duty, allowing his testis to choose over and finish the job. My own face looked shellshocked -- sweaty and glad, but stunned. Collectively, we made a delineation that you 'd probably caption `` fucked into oblivion. '' I really wanted to take away a picture, but thankfully I had just enough brains left to recognize that as a bad idea. I had also deliberately set my phone down out of reach.

I actually felt too sensitive to need to adjoin myself much, besides which, if I may put it overtly, I do n't care getting ass-leakage on my hired man when he 's tied back there. I contented myself with easing my weight forward and simply allowing everything to relax. I let myself originate easy around the seemingly impossible girth of his international nautical mile, picturing how inseparably snugly he must be joined to me. Lad 's ejaculatory pulses kept up all the while, quiet and regular, as he covered me, held me plastered, filled me and over-filled me. The smell in the way was really rich now. I licked my mitt to see if there was still any taste of him left from earlier.

Everything was quiet, the light were dim, and the air was strong and sound. My soundbox was hobble, and I soon found I was having worry keeping my centre open. I do n't think I fell asleep, but I let my eyes close and my thoughts wander, disconnected and dreamlike. felicitous images of past times with Lad came and went -- not sex, mostly, but moments of society, friendly relationship, shared pleasure, victories in contest, mastering new tricks, secret plan of chase. Sometimes, from day to day, I wondered how sex could feel so easy and natural with a dog ; as retentiveness swirled in the fog of my post-orgasmic brainiac, it occurred to me that it felt easy because we were already close in so many ways. Putting our bodies together was just another step along the same path we were already traveling. An uncommon whole tone, but a natural one, seen from the right perspective.

Unable, in this position, to give him a pattern hug, I wiggled my ass and gave his gnarl a few squeezes. `` Arf, arf, '' I said, laughing a lilliputian at myself. `` You like that at all ? '' There was no response, but I think he liked it just fine.

I became aware that the air current was howling outside, which meant that the powdery nose candy on the ground would be drifting. I entertained the approximation that our route might be drifted in and my folk 's return would be delayed, but I knew that my Fatherhood would cheerfully labor his old hand truck through drifts you 'd need pitons to climb over, and there was n't going to be any delay.

No, they 'd be back on fourth dimension, and I thought it was important that they did n't cap off their evening by arriving habitation to rule me bent over the bed and ass-tied to the dog. You never know ; it 's just within the land of possibleness that my mom might say, `` Oh ! That 's different, '' and never speak of it again, but I saw no gunpoint in testing the limit of her confrontation-avoidance. It 's also possible that Lad would take heed the truck pulling into the driveway and want to run to the nominal head doorway. I have a much too bright imagination, and the paradigm of myself bouncing and dragging behind the dog like a wheelless cart as he bounded to the room access was off-putting, even though I knew it was comically impossible.

Anyway, we needed to get separated in time ... but there 's really nothing to do except relax and postponement. By the clock, we had plenty of time and zero to vex about, honestly, but this had already been a longer tie than the offset. It was a nice little exercise in self-possession to ride out patient, take a breather deeply, savour the feelings and imagine nice, loose, slippery mentation. I took vantage of that bright imagination of mine to visualize the scene from beneath us, looking up between his stage. The bed held the weight of my pep pill body as I reached back and pulled my cheek apart, imagining how the tie between us would attend from below.

Maybe that gesture woke Lad out of his reverie, or maybe it was just metre. He pulled back, but it was n't going to fit out yet. From my complex number stand beneath us, I would hold just seen the curvature of his knot appearing, then disappearing again. From the suddenly much surfactant intuitive feeling, there must have been a overture gush of escaping dog sauce, too. He 'd been pumping it in there for fourteen minutes ; there was a lot. My imaginary self watching from below was going to get her face glazed when the big deluge came.

I was panting as Lad tugged again and again. It 's an accelerate process once it starts, though, and it did n't take him long to get out. The last tug was n't even particularly forceful. He just eased backward. I felt a brief but eye-popping good sense of turnout, and out he went : burl, putz, and tip, with a slurpy-suctiony sound and a fountain of dog cum that sprayed my upturned calves. My ass winked shut as his tip sprang out. He lifted one paw over my slope, turned, and hopped off. One mo we were tied, the next we were apart, and I was acutely mindful of the vacancy. wellspring, not total vanity. I rocked my ass side to side -- subconsciously trying to wag a nonexistent tail ? -- and the slosh of liquid told me there was still quite a lot of sonny swimming around in me. He had been generous. I held it inside, a bit of lingering warmth.

I looked over and saw he was curled up in a comfortable-loooking lump. I really wanted to snuggle him, but he was cleaning himself up, and I needed to do the same for myself ... and the base. We can vamoose over the mopping up. When all that was taken aid of, I sat on the rug with my legs in a V, and called him over to me. He lay down between my legs, tucked in neatly, with his chin on my second joint. I often give his coat a brushing when we 're seated like this, so it 's a fellow position for both of us. Having no brush handy, I just petted him, long separatrix from ears to tail. He 's not always in a mood to sit still for very long, but that Night, he obliged me for a while. He seemed contented.

'' You sure fuck that ass, huh, boy ? '' He looked at me enquiringly, but decided I was n't saying anything comprehensible, and laid his Kuki-Chin back down again. I ruffled his fur. `` I know you do. I love having you in me. Stay with me a foresighted metre, OK ? '' Any conversation afterward is always colored, but that 's not bad. He never says anything dumb or asks annoying questions, and I do n't want to talk that much anyway.

A text from my mom let me know that they were on the way menage. I told her I 'd be in bed. I took a few more minutes to pick up, then lay down under the covers. Lad hopped up and settled into the crook of my genu. I knew he 'd probably get up when the family got home, and they 'd let him outside. But I was sleepy, and with my head on the pillow and my boy nestled up close, I fell asleep quickly and did n't wake until Christmas Day morning.

We spent Christmastide Day as we have since I was small. It does n't have got quite the Lapp sort of illusion as it did back then, but having the family all gathered for a first light together still feels special. Lad joined us inside after breakfast when we opened present tense. He got some remnant scrambled testicle as a dainty, then enjoyed poking his nose into wrapping paper and supervising all the activity.

Everything was as it should be on a Christmas cockcrow, yet I was aware of a tiny degree of detachment between myself and the residue of my family. I love my parents without arriere pensee, and I do n't like lying to them, or keeping affair hidden from them. I also love Lad, and all the things we do together. Those two facts do n't go well together. As fourth dimension goes on, there 's more and more that I have to hide. Part of growing up, I suppose. My mom got laddie a pretty red jingle Alexander Melville Bell collar for Christmas, and when I put it on him, I thought how it would jingle when he was slamming his body against mine. I kept that to myself. I also did not sing my improved lyrics to `` Rockin'Around the Christmastime Tree. '' It was still a really nice Christmastide, spent with everyone I love the most.

-- -- -- -- --

When I was younger, one of my favourite leger was Farley Mowat 's `` The Dog Who Would n't Be. '' It still is one of my dearie, actually. It 's a very funny rule book, and as a kid I laughed out loud at Mutt 's mischance, but it also shaped how I thought about the relationship between a individual and a dog. You do n't own a dog. You work and play and grow with them. Lad 's lucky I did n't name him Mutt.

The endure chapter of that Koran is a tough one to translate, though. Any narration about a dog who is loved is going to be bittersweet, at best, if you follow it all the way to the end. I do n't reckon I want to write the last chapter between Lad and me, and I think this will be the last of these little stories. You can imagine a little girl and her dog on unending adventures, playing in the barn, finding warmth on inhuman Dec days, greeting the first gear affectionate day of each new outpouring together, without end. And ... you know.

Arf, arf .