And I sat there on the Beagle. My leotard was streched and torn from the rigors of rape. On the fluffy head of the beagle lay my limp dick which had wormed its way through a hole in the leotard. It rested there dutiful and anxious. The night was not yet over for this avid and eager weinerwurst. The rain fell hard. Hard as a mean johnson between two brazilian titters. As the scent I had been awaiting reached my nose, my dick went full hard rocket. The recoil made it slap back down into the head of the Beagle, killing it instantly. The scent I had found was pussy and it was not very far away. Maybe two clicks to the northeast. I sprinted into the wilderness with my murderous woody leading the way. With each desperate stride the boner ripped more and more at my tattered leotard until it had the freedom to maneuver and swing violently. Soon we would feast on the sweet pink of puss, but I would forever miss my Beagle.
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