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” My wife replied with an uh-huh that was partly words, partly a moan. And her arousal had only built as the audience watched her flesh wobble with all the bending over and scrubbing. For whatever reason, the audience wanted proof: Yes indeed, this crazy human woman had happily let herself be mounted, fucked, and filled with dog cum. Once I guessed the audience was satisfied, I set the camera on the floor and focused it on the plate.

Gunther bounded into the living room happily, my wife following behind him wearing a huge grin. Lifting Gunther’s tail—the scent of their mutual arousal was almost appalling—I focused on his swollen knot up in my quivering wife.

She was in ecstasy, wearing a pink dog collar and getting fucked to heaven by a black lab in front of an audience of paying strangers. The message feed approved of what they saw and heard. The only trace of the operation was a tiny scar near her belly button. I set aside my laptop and got a plate from the kitchen.

I studied her on the camera: Eyes happy half-moons gazing at nothing, mouth a toothless grin and lolling tongue, face flushed the color of strawberries. So, one time, while she was under, we went to the doctor, and I got her fixed. And, of course, he was now knotted up inside my wife, so he’d be there for a little while. Just a little touch I’d included in her programming to keep things interesting until the very end.

And get dinner ready.” She smiled, kissed my forehead again, and went off to get into her workout clothes. Tiny green lights sprinkled throughout the house came to life. My wife walked out of the bedroom, ready for the gym in a black sports bra, black yoga pants, and pink workout shoes.

That was part of this bimbo-ish persona, but I got a little tired of it.

The place is a fucking pit.” “A fuck pit, you mean.” And she laughed. Having a dim, horny wife meant she thought everything was funny. The audience let loose with the comment-board equivalent of catcalls.

As much as you can do in about 45 minutes.” And for the next three-quarters of an hour, that’s what she did: Wearing only pink tennis shoes and a pink dog collar, she cleaned the living room, the kitchen, and the upstairs bathroom. My wife, for her part, shouted and moaned into the floor, feet and hands clenching and unclenching, all her flesh rippling and shaking as waves of orgasm bounded and rebounded around in her body. Time for the finish.” I pulled my wife up into kneeling position, her head lolling. Once she’d stopped dripping, I set it the plate in front of her, gripped her hair, and carefully lowered her face over it.

Gunther soon pulled out of my wife and nosed at her crotch, checking that he’d properly deposited his sperm.

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