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The Hot Dog

Category: Mature
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I named him Frank, as in Frankfurter, because he was a schnauzer, and as kids, we called them frankfurter dogs.

It had been 2 weeks since I found him huddled out by the trash cans, shaking in the cold night air. I brought him into the garage, which was a lot warmer than the 15 degrees it was supposed to reach, held him in a towel to stop his shivers. I had a few cans left over from when my brother stopped by with his dog, Mangy, and Frank went at it greedily.

He let me clean his scratches. Whatever he fought with clearly beat him. Probably some big Tom cat. The poor mutt was so appreciative. It was clear he wasn’t a street dog, and probably had an owner worried somewhere, but had no collar. When he seemed so calm after his ordeal, I brought him into the house, and he curled up by the radiator and slept like a baby.

In a couple of days, he had taken up residence, and bounced around his new domain, with no apparent effects from his journey. I began checking supermarket bulletin boards for posters about lost dogs, but found nothing. He seemed perfectly happy with me, but I knew there must be someone out there looking.

Two weeks to the day, I saw his picture, with a sign. “Lost Schnauzer, answers to Arnold. Reward.”

It went on to say where he was last seen, which was about a mile from me, and gave the owner as Angela, with her phone number.

I knew it was Frank by his markings in the picture, but went home and called him Arnold, and he responded, but Frank also responded to Dog, and Judy, and Hey You. Frank was just friendly like that.

I called right away, and it was a machine. I left my name and number, said I may have Arnold. Angela called back in an hour.

She said, “Hi, I’m calling back about my dog?”

“Yes, I have him. Well, he looks just like him anyway.”

“And you want the reward.”

“Huh? No, I just want to get Frank back home.”

“Oh, sorry, I’ve been getting a lot of prank calls, asking about the reward, and I’m tired of getting my hopes up.”

“No problem, you want my address?”

In twenty minutes, she was at my door, tall, elegant-looking, with a long neck, she was over sixty for sure. She had a fur hat, with matching full-length coat. It was another cold day, and was shivering. Her hair was silver/blonde, not hiding her age, but accenting it. This was old money for sure.

“Hi? Angela? Come on in.”

She smiled as she came past me into the foyer. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting. I’m sure you must be busy. Nice to meet you, Harry.” She slipped off her leather glove, and her long fingers wrapped around my hand. “It’s freezing out there. Where’s Arnold?”

I led the way into the living room, and curled up on his blanket by the radiator. He lifted his head in curiosity. The recognition was immediate. She screamed, “Arnold!” and his floppy ears went flying as he raced towards her and she dropped to her knees. He licked and she cuddled and soon she was crying. His skinny tail was snapping like whip.

If you have never had a cat or dog, it’s hard to appreciate the bond. You feed them and clean them and walk them and care for them, and all they give you is unconditional love. It’s more than a fair exchange, and I knew what she was feeling.

After a moment, she was looking up at me, and it seemed Frank was, too. I realized I had tears in my eyes, too.

“Harry, I don’t know how to thank you, but you seem to know how much I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, I’ve had pets all my life, and Frank has a way of becoming part of the family pretty quickly.”

She smiled as she stroked him. “Frank, for Frankfurter? I actually thought about that name, too!”

She stood facing me. “I don’t know what to say. The reward is $500, will you take a check?”

Five hundred? Wow, this lady must be loaded!

“Thanks, but I don’t want it, I only did what was right.”

“But, your expenses! The food, that blanket he was on is ruined!”

I laughed. “It was ruined already. And he doesn’t eat much. You may want to take him for a check-up. He had a bunch of cuts and scrapes when I found him, but they healed well. But, just to be safe.”

“Poor baby! I will, thank you. But I wish I could give you something. I really feel indebted to you.”

“Knowing Fr…Arnold is home is good enough for me, I enjoyed his visit.”

“I’ll think of some way to pay you back, I promise. I’d better get going, the car is waiting. Ready, Arnold?”

Frank seemed confused, looking to both of us. I bent and petted him. “See ya, Buddy!” His tail was flying again, and she had his collar and leash around him as she led him to the door.

“Say Bye, Honey!”

I responded, “Bye, Honey!” to Angela, and she laughed.

“I can see why he likes you. Thanks again,” and they were gone, and I actually felt lonely.

Another two weeks went by and the doorbell rang. It was a man in a black suit. “Can I help you?”

He smiled politely and handed me an envelope. “I’m supposed to wait for a reply, Sir.”

I opened it. In beautiful handwriting on quality paper, was a note from Angela. “You are cordially invited to Arnold Frankfurter’s third birthday party.” It went on to say it was Saturday, and that Joseph, her driver would be here to pick me up at 8PM, sharp. It concluded, “Both Arnold and I look forward to seeing you again. With Deepest Regards, Angela Knowles.”

I had so many questions, and knew my only answers would be from Joseph. Was this a big deal? Many guests? If I went, how would I dress? What should I bring?

I invited Joe, as I would call him, into the house. He said, that last year, it was about 10 guests, mostly her oldest friends, from before her husband’s passing. Joe was comfortable enough with me to say they were all well-to-do, and dressed nicely, not formally. I could get by with a shirt and slacks, no jeans, and that gifts amounted to gag gifts, with donations going to the Animal Shelter.

“What do you think, Joe?”

“Why not? You get a free night out, limo ride both ways, and get to see a really huge estate, almost a mansion! If you don’t like it, excuse yourself, and I’ll drive you where ever you want to go.”

After he left, I found something else in the envelope: a check made out to me for $500.

Saturday, Joe was there before 8 but waited in the car until the exact hour. He opened the back door, and I asked if could ride up front, and he was more than happy not to have some snooty jerk to drive around.

We pulled up to the estate. It was two stories, with a circular drive, and buildings out back, which Joe told me were for servants when they used to live here. Now, they were simply day workers.

The 12 foot front doors opened, and a butler stood by to greet me and take my coat. With it draped over his arm, he led me to the den, leather-bound books lined the walls, along with a huge fire place and bar. Strewn around were couches and love seats and big arm-chairs, with about 2 dozen people.

Angela saw me, and floated across the room, a huge smile, grabbing and hugging me like a long lost relative. “Harry! I’m so glad you made it! I was so afraid you would have other plans on such short notice!”

She led me around the room, introducing me as “the young man who saved my Arnold.” People seemed genuinely happy to meet me, shaking my hand, patting my back, even a few flirtatious winks from some ladies. Everyone was in their sixties, except me, being 27. Angela got me a drink and had to greet someone else, and couples whose names I had already forgotten were chatting with me, and a few of the wives were very friendly with their touches, and suggestive comments, and I felt flattered.

I looked over to the fireplace, and there was Frank, oblivious to the crowd, curled up on a much newer blanket than I had for him. I made my way over, and he opened one eye, then the other! He was on me in no time, tail flying.

“He remembers! I knew he would!” It was Angela. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this many people, this should be all of them, they remembered from last year and told friends who wanted to donate, too.”

“It’s a good cause. I’m glad I found a worthy cause for my reward check.”

“Oh, Harry, I didn’t invite you for that reason. I just hoped to give you a night out, as partial reward for finding Arnold. That check is for you! Oh, My, there’s Judge Holder, I’ll be back.”

A short blonde with big breasts slid up beside me, replete in gold rings, chains and bracelets. “Angela has the best luck!”

I had met her and her husband earlier, but had no idea her name. “Excuse me?”

“Only she could lose her dog and wind up with a young hunk as her hero.” She was looking me up and down like a hungry cougar. “What are you, six feet, and 190? I’m gonna guess seven inches, too.”

I looked around, no one was listening in. I always enjoyed a little flirting. “Not even close, 175, at most.” I smiled back at her, seeing her eyes twinkle.

“And confident! I like that in my men. I wonder how upset Angela will be when I steal you away!”

“I thought you were married.”

She waved her hand dismissively in his direction. “He hasn’t gotten it up in 10 years! and, as you can see, I’m much younger than he.”

(In truth, I had no idea her age or his, but played along.) “I noticed that. So, you two have an arrangement?”

“Yes! Don’t ask, don’t tell, like the Army!” She moved closer, sliding a card into my pocket. “Call me, just say you’re that you’re calling about the six-foot heroes I ordered!”

She reached behind and goosed me as she drifted away, looking back at me, and I felt myself becoming aroused from our game.

I had another drink, and Angela, ever the hostess, opened the gifts for Arnold, some were lame, but some pretty imaginative. She warmly accepted the checks on behalf of the Shelter, which is where she originally found Arnold.

She unwrapped mine, and stopped, just smiling. “Who is this? There’s no card?”

Through shouts of “What is it?” and “Hold it up, we can’t see!”, she held up the long coat that I had sewn the message along the side, “Hot Dog, with Warm Buns!”

Everyone laughed and Angela spotted me, and I held my drink up to her. “I should have known! Harry! Arnold’s hero, my hero!” There was applause and pats on the back again.

The soiree ended early. Apparently, the witching hour comes early when you are in your 60’s and 70’s. Angela asked me to stay behind for a nightcap and I agreed. By 10 PM, we were alone, except for the bartender and waiter. She dismissed them both, saying we could serve ourselves.

We got fresh drinks and sat on a leather couch by the fire. “So, I see you met Sally Rosen.”


“The blonde with the big chest, I call her Sally Ride because she’ll give any man a ride!”

I smiled, amused at her openness. “Was that her name? She did seem kind of friendly, but I thought it was my charm. You say she does that with all the men?”, acting hurt.

Angela patted my leg. “Harry, you know that’s not what I meant. But, tell me, are you planning to call her?”

“I don’t know, it’s not often I get propositioned by a nympho!”

“Honey, you can do so much better than that! And you didn’t even mention the age difference.”

“Age is just a number.”

“If you believe that, I know a lot of classier women, who aren’t married. You could have your pick. I have many friends.”

“Would you be one of the choices?”

She smiled broadly and shifted to face me. “Are you some sort of gigolo? Planning to take my fortune?”

“If anything, I’ll take Arnold… and you, of course.”

“I don’t know if it’s the booze or the hour, but you are making me tingle.”

“I hope that’s good.”

She slid into my arms. “Hmmm, very good!” Her lips found mine and her tongue darted out, and I met it and responded.

There was an urgency we both felt, a need to do this, now! Our kisses were instantly passionate, and our hands were roaming. I felt her tugging at my belt as I reached inside her blouse and found her nipple under the thin bra.

She had the belt open and undid the slacks, scooping inside and grabbing my shaft, just holding it tightly and stroking it. I pushed the pants down to let it free, and she said, “Oooh, nice,” as she bit at my shirt buttons.

I had her blouse open and dug into her slacks too, probing, finding her bush, sliding a finger into her hole, and we kissed again.

She wriggled out of the slacks and I pushed them down with the panties. She was in heat as she climbed over me on the couch, hovering over my throbbing cock, using it to pleasure herself, then inserting my head inside the love canal, spreading as she took me in.

Now she was really on fire. It was like an oven inside her, and she twitched above me, not acting like the prim sixty year old any longer. Grunting and snorting as she threw her body down against me, as if to pound me into the couch, her energy so strong, her passion so great.

I matched her thrusts, feeling myself throbbing within her, knowing that it wouldn’t be long! Her hair was disheveled as were her clothes, and we bucked like broncos at a rodeo. She rose and set on my lap, making a slapping sound and I told her I was there. She said, “Me, too, let’s come together, baby!”

She lost it, howling as she bounced around, and I felt myself releasing, too. We kept hammering away until I had nothing left and she slumped across me, panting and gasping.

In my ear, she blurted, “That’s a hot dog, for sure!”

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