The Good Dogging Guide

by Heidi Flow

  The Good Dogging Guide

  By Heidi Flow © 2016

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your direct use only, please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Chapter One

  Up and down the country my husband and I went, on an adventure of a lifetime. Of course given our social standing in the community and other things that had to be considered, like our family friends and jobs, we couldn’t recount our tale of events or shout from the rooftops of our adventures, like we could have done if we’d gone mountain climbing or white water rafting. But what my husband and I did, we found much more exciting, even if we did have to keep it secret. But now our secret can come out in a fashion in this document that we like to call, the good dogging guide. Of course the names, if names are used at all, have been changed to protect the innocent and the not so innocent. And we don’t give out exact locations, just rough ideas of the area in general. We’re sure if you follow the guide you’ll soon find yourself on the path that we found ourselves on, and although it’s not quite the path to enlightenment, it is the path to fun and excitement, and in this day and age that’s something we can all do with a bit of.

  Once you do get out there you’ll find that there are all kinds of people from all walks of life. Some just want to watch and some love to play, just remember to be respectful of everyone and stay safe. If you’re female, like me, it’s a good idea to take a male companion with you, even if he’s not going to get involved in the action. A set of eyes and ears watching out for you is a good thing when you’re parking up to play in a lonely spot.

  Know your boundaries and stick to those boundaries, don’t be pressured on the spot. If you feel like relaxing some of those boundaries, put a bit of thought in about it over a night or two, there’s no need for any knee jerk reactions.

  Oh what the hell am I saying, knee jerk reactions are how we had some of our best dogging sessions. Sometimes you just have to go with the flow. That’s how my husband and I got into dogging in the first place, by going with the flow. In fact, we didn’t even realise we were dogging the first time it happened. And seeing as the first time is as good as any, that’s the place we’re starting our guide, at a certain northwest holiday resort, which has a number of piers, fun fair and an attraction not unlike the one found in Paris.

  My husband and I were not married at that point, but we had been going out for a number of months. We were staying in a not very nice bed and breakfast. The place was clean and the food was passable, but the landlady was a throwback to the landladies of old and belonged more in a grim seaside postcard rather than in the modern day.

  “I expect perfect quiet after nine o’clock,” she informed us curtly on our arrival. “There’s no eating or drinking in the rooms. Anyone breaking any of these rules will be asked to leave immediately.”

  I felt like leaving as soon as she’d delivered her rather unfriendly put rules, but seeing as we’d paid beforehand, we decided we’d make the best of it.

  A couple of hours later when we’d nipped up to our room for a bit of afternoon delight, we began to realise the lengths our landlady was going to go to, to curtail our enjoyment of our holiday. No sooner had we started rolling about on the bed, when a sharp rap of knuckles hit our door.

  “Is there something wrong?” I asked, not quite fully clothed, so I didn’t quiet fully open the door.

  “It’s the noise,” our landlady said.

  “The noise?”

  “Yes, the noise. It simply won’t do.”

  “Sorry. It won’t happen again,” I said apologetically when I didn’t really have anything to apologise for.

  So, as you can imagine, there we were, a young couple on a dirty weekend away, which had been cleaned up pretty pronto, wondering how we were going to indulge in the fun we’d come away for in the first place.

  It was a late stroll along the beach and a stroke of luck that finally gave us our answer.

  Underneath one of the piers a young couple of a similar age to us, we’re kissing and cuddling, or at least that’s what we thought they were doing, until we got closer. As we neared to them it became quite obvious that they were having full sex and such were the throes of their passion, they didn’t care who knew about it or watched.

  The females blouse was wide open; underneath it she wore no bra, allowing us to get a clear view of her perfectly rounded breasts and large, hard nipples. Her skirt was pulled up while the male had his pants pulled down to his ankles, as he thrust deep and rhythmically inside of her.

  We both stood transfixed watching their frantic, desperate lovemaking. It was then our own desperation hit us. I pulled down my own knickers and taking my partners hand, I guided his fingers inside my moistness. I had no need to unleash the beast that bulged in his pants. Within the blink of an eye his pants were down and I was spread on the soft wet sand, enjoying him taking me, a mere few feet away from the other couple.

  When the dirty deed was over for both parties we all quickly gathered ourselves, putting our clothing straight in a fashion and hurried away in opposite directions as if nothing had happened.

  As a couple we had taken our first foray and footsteps into something different. And all the signs ahead pointed to the promised land, the land of dogging.

  Chapter Two

  The first time when we actually set out to purposely go dogging was after we were married. Five years after to be exact. We’d been having one of those moments that couples, at least the successful ones that stay together have, where they open up and tell their partner what they’re doing right and where they could improve, and what exactly turns them on. The subject came up of what we’d done on the beach next to the other couple. We hadn’t talked about it for years, but of course we both agreed that it had aroused us highly and from there we began to explore our fantasies further. My husband wanted to see me play with another woman, a thought which also excited me no end, but I was also excited about being shared with my husband and another man.

  With dogging, it’s all in the luck of the draw, so we set off to see what we could find. Now when it comes to finding out actual locations, unlike swinging clubs, it can be very secretive. But such is the nature of the beast, a little searching of the internet, joining a dogging site or two and exchanging emails with fellow dogging fans, you’ll soon piece together the pieces as to where the best and latest dogging action is. You’ll more than likely come across people that are only too willing to arrange a time and a destination for the meet, and sometimes this can be the best way if you want to meet females or couples, as dogging is very heavily male orientated pastime. But sometimes the not knowing who, or how many are going to turn up can be even more exciting. It’s a bit like fishing. Sometimes you’ll get a bite, sometimes you won’t. Sometimes you’ll get a tiddler and other times you’ll get a monster fish, big enough to feed you for days.

  Of course the weather plays a part in when and where you can find meets, but even with the frost crisp on the ground, and the wind blowing a hurricane, it’s not impossible to find a meet.

  The snow was not exactly crisp and even as we set off purposely to find a dogging meet, but it was freezing cold with a smattering of frost. We headed out to an area in the midlands, a certain forest where my husband and I had enjoyed mountain biking previously.

  We’d heard from fellow mountain bikers that there had been the odd rum activity going on in the area, and the dog
ging internet forums all seemed to give the area a big thumbs up, so off we headed, this time without our trailer with our mountain bikes on it, but with stout overcoats and nothing underneath.

  We didn’t stray out into the vast woodland but just to a car park that more than one person on the forums assured us was a great spot.

  After an hour of waiting with the engine running we began to think we’d picked the wrong season for a night of passion with strangers. But as luck would have it, it turned out that at least one stranger was willing to brave the cold, and delight at the naked treasures I kept underneath my warm undercoat.

  We had a good idea he was looking for action as soon as his car crawled onto the otherwise empty, apart from us, car park. We flashed our lights and he flashed his back, and within seconds I had opened my car door and he strode over. I threw open my coat, as my husband watched on in the driving seat.

  Our new found friend was left in doubt as to what I wanted. He automatically bent down and licked at my wetness. But I was not merely satisfied at a stranger pleasuring me; I also wanted to pleasure the stranger. I urged him to stand and unbutton his pants, and then I helped myself and took his manhood into my mouth.

  “Oh god, that feels so good,” he moaned. A cliché I know but it certainly made me feel good.

  “Why don’t we move to the backseat,” my husband urged, obviously wanting to get a little action of his own with me.

  The cold was still biting but I totally discarded my overcoat and lay naked on the backseat, as the stranger hovered between my open legs as if under starter’s orders.

  “Is this okay?” he asked as he teased his big magic wand next to my opening.

  “Of course it is,” I said, pleased he’d had the foresight to slip a condom on. It turned out he was a smooth operator all round as he easily slipped deep inside of me, much to mine and my watching husbands, excitement.

  “Harder,” I yelled, when in fact I had no need to. He was already pounding my pussy for all he and I were worth. It certainly must have looked horny because my husband is quite a long player when it comes to the love making department, but as soon as I put my lips around his hardness, it jerked with excitement and his warm, milky fluid, jettisoned out.

  I think I can safely say it was a good night had by all. But there was more, much more to come as the weather grew warmer and our lust for adventure grew wilder and stronger.

  Chapter Three

  It can’t be stressed enough that wooded areas, at night, are the best for dogging. Although a very tiny amount of people do go dogging in the day, we don’t recommend it. It’s at night when the real possibilities begin to open. Besides, in the day you might get the wrong end of the stick and in the blink of an eye, you could be in serious hot water. Take a case that we heard about where a woman threw a stick for her dog and it landed in-between a threesome which was cavorting about in the ferns. Heaven knows where the stick landed, it was, I’m told, sharp enough to have poked someone’s eye out, but I’m sure the threesome were not pleased to be chased by an errant hound and hear the wrath of an innocent, but angry dog walker. No, keep away from the daytime meets, that’s our advice, unless of course it’s on private land and out of sight from passers-by. But let’s get back to warm wooded evenings.

  As the warmer weather set in, my husband and I would often take an evening drive to some out of the way car park, with adjoining woods and picnic areas. The best nights to find some action are weekends, Friday and Saturday nights, but we’ve had some equally good nights in the week; in fact, one of our best nights was on a Wednesday night.

  We’d travelled a good few miles away from home and into the Welsh countryside. We’d had a nice encounter with an older gentleman in a forest car park on the border previously, when we decided lets go the whole hog and see what fun we can find in the deepest of Wales’s green and lush valleys, or rather its car parks and adjoining woods.

  The first car park we came to on a particular stretch of road heading to south Wales was a complete washout. We waited there for a good hour and we didn’t even see any wildlife, never mind a car or anybody dogging. A few miles down the road it was the same story.

  “I think we’ve come a little too far out to the middle of nowhere,” my husband said.

  “Give it time,” I assured him. I didn’t like to be wrong and it had been my idea to venture out on a pleasant weekday evening, when all the other weekday evenings up till that point had been null and void when it came to the art of dogging.

  “I’ve got to be up early in the morning,” my husband sighed at one point, which made me all the more determined.

  “Let’s just go a few miles more.”

  “If you’re sure?”

  My silence was enough to convince him I was sure and luckily for me and him, it would turn out to be an evening neither of us would forget.

  “Just slow down,” I said, as I caught a glimpse of something in the woods we were driving passed.

  “What is it?”

  “I saw some lights,” I said.

  “What type of lights?”

  “Torches I think.”

  “It could be poaches.”

  “Would poaches be flashing their torches around,” I replied. “Pull over.”

  He duly obliged. And before he could stop me, taking my own torch, I plunged into the darkness of the field chasing those mysterious dancing lights.

  The lights led me to the middle of the field where two males and a female were cavorting together on a flimsy blanket.

  “Sorry if I’ve disturbed you,” I said, instantly knowing I hadn’t disturbed them, but just added to the fun and excitement.

  “Join us if you like?” One of the males said, I’m not sure which.

  I began to undress, but the female of the group broke away from the males and almost ripped my clothes off in her excitement.

  I’d never had my pussy lips sucked by a female before, but that’s what happened as I stood in that field on that starry night.

  My husband finally caught up with the action in time to see her just finishing her work on my lips and probing deeper inside of me with her fingers.

  I’d never played with a woman before, but I found it no hardship exploring her body with my tongue and fingers, much to my husbands and the other males delight.

  I ended up having sex with one female and three males that night, including my husband. It was the most people I’d had sex with. Of course I made sure condoms were used and we followed the country code and we took our rubbish home with us; or rather put our used condoms in a bin at the nearest service station. You should have seen the look one of the cleaners gave us as we made our not so little deposit just as they were cleaning out the bin. The moral of this episode is follow your dreams, or rather the lights in this case. And don’t dump a clump of used condoms in a bin at the service station as its getting emptied. You’ll only end up getting watched by security and your number plate taken.

  Chapter Four

  My husband always used to hate caravans. He was always moaning about them when he saw them trundling along, holding up cars on the motorway.

  “They’re a bloody liability,” he’d snarl under his breath as soon as he saw one, which then turned into, “they’re a fucking disgrace and should be banned, they shouldn’t be on the road,” when he was stuck behind one for even a short amount of time.

  Now me, I quite like caravans. I used to go on regular caravan holidays when I was younger, first with family and then with friends. It had always been static caravans that I’d stayed in, but I’d always fancied having a touring holiday.

  My husband looked up from his morning paper with disgust when I mentioned a touring holiday to him. “You’re joking right?”

  “Just hear me out,” I said and smiled oh so sweetly, as I proceeded to try to get my husband to bid on a caravan I had seen going for a very reasonable price on the internet.

  “There’s no way I’m getting one of those things,” my husband snap
ped. “There’s no way I’d even get in one, never mind actually buy one and drive it out onto the road to piss other drivers off.”

  “Do you remember when I said I’d like to have a touring holiday in Scotland?”

  “Yes. I remember that. I said no.”

  “But I’ve had an idea that will appeal to us both. We could have a dogging holiday.”

  “Touring Scotland in a caravan?”

  “It’s perfect isn’t it?” Plus it could turn out to be one of the best and cheapest holidays we’ve ever had.”

  It didn’t turn out to be one of the cheapest holidays we’ve ever had. We ended up spending a small fortune making the caravan roadworthy. But on the plus side we did have one of the best holidays ever. A real dogging holiday.

  My husband wanted to take the low road but I wanted to take the high road and although he was in the driving seat of the car, I was in the driving seat as far as the holiday was concerned. I’d already been planning ahead. Little did my husband know, but I had dogging meets already in place at various points along our tour. The first meet though, was not planned and came quite unexpected.

  My husband has never been any good at fixing punctures and I don’t have a clue when it comes to anything mechanical or motor related, so we were pretty much in a pickle when disaster struck on a country road in the heart of Scotland. We tried to ring a garage, but being in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by trees, our mobile phone signals were blocked out. We ended up resorting to flagging down motorists, and after half an hour waiting, arguing between ourselves, three cars passed us by. The fourth car that came our way, luckily for us, stopped.

  “Can we help?”

  “I hope so,” I said to the muscular male who strode confidently towards us. His co-companion wasn’t so talkative, he was a little weedy and acted a bit shy, but he was a wiz when it came to replacing our tyre.

  “How can we thank you enough?” I asked the muscular male.