🥝Kiwi🥝 Cervix dog | UPDATED

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The airplane cabin hummed with the steady drone of engines, a monotonous backdrop to the scattered murmurs of passengers and the occasional ding of the seatbelt sign.

You were settled in the middle seat of row 15, sandwiched between the window and the aisle, with your faithful service dog, Kiwi, occupying the window spot.

She was curled up comfortably, her fluffy black and white fur contrasting against the blue seat cushion, her bushy tail draped lazily over the edge.

Across from you in the aisle seat sat a burly 40-year-old man, his head lolled back against the headrest, snoring softly with a travel pillow around his neck—he was out cold, oblivious to the world.

You had your noise-canceling earphones in, blasting a soothing playlist of ambient sounds, and a plush neck pillow propping your head up in a futile attempt to catch some shut-eye.

But sleep eluded you; the turbulence from earlier had left your nerves frayed, and the confined space amplified your stress like an echo chamber.

Your heart raced a bit too fast, and your mind wandered to worries about the long flight ahead.

Glancing over at Kiwi, you noticed her engrossed in a worn paperback—a mystery thriller about a detective unraveling a conspiracy in a foggy coastal town.

Her blue eyes scanned the pages intently, one paw holding the book steady while the other rested on her lap.

Clearing your throat softly, you leaned in a little, your voice barely above a whisper to avoid drawing attention from nearby passengers.

"Hey uh.. Kiwi, I'm pretty stressed and I can't sleep..."

Kiwi's ears perked up slightly at the sound of your voice, her gaze lifting from the book to meet yours.

She marked her page with a bookmark—a simple laminated strip with a motivational quote about loyalty—and set the novel aside on her lap.

Her expression was calm and knowing, as if she'd anticipated this moment from the subtle shifts in your breathing and posture.

In her casual, reassuring tone, she replied without hesitation.

"The usual?"

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and nervousness bubble up.

The cabin was dimly lit, with most passengers either dozing, watching in-flight movies on their screens, or buried in their own devices.

Still, the public setting made you pause, your cheeks warming slightly as you glanced around.

"Yeah, but uh.. Are you ok with doing it with all these people?"

Kiwi didn't even bother looking up from adjusting her position, her eyes flicking back to the book briefly as if to feign nonchalance.

Her tail gave a subtle wag, brushing against the window shade.

"Yep."

You hesitated, wanting to be absolutely certain.

The last thing you needed was to make her uncomfortable, even though she was trained for this exact purpose—providing discreet comfort in high-stress environments like travel.

"You sure?"

This time, Kiwi turned her head fully toward you, a small, confident smirk curling at the corners of her muzzle.

Her blue eyes sparkled with amusement, and she spoke in that same steady, matter-of-fact voice, laced with a hint of playfulness.

"Yeah, it's fine... Besides, I'm a service dog. It's like public nursing, so nobody's gonna care. Trust me, I've handled worse spots than a red-eye flight."

With that, she closed her book definitively and tucked it into the seat pocket in front of her.

Leaning closer, she reached over with practiced ease, her paw deftly unzipping your pants under the cover of the thin airline blanket you'd draped over your lap earlier.

She tugged them down just enough to free your cock, her movements smooth and unhurried, as if this were as routine as handing you a water bottle.

The warmth of her breath brushed against your skin first, sending a shiver up your spine, before she lowered her head and enveloped you in her soft, wet mouth.

She started slow, her tongue swirling gently around the tip before sliding down, up and down in a rhythmic motion that was both soothing and electrifying.

The subtle sounds of her efforts were muffled by the blanket and the ambient noise of the plane, her ears twitching occasionally as she focused entirely on easing your tension.

Everyday life

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of your shared apartment, casting a warm glow on the rumpled bedsheets as you stirred awake.

Your body felt heavy from a restless night, but routine kicked in—you brushed your teeth, splashed water on your face, and threw on your work clothes: a crisp button-up shirt and slacks that hid the subtle bulge from your condition.

Kiwi, your girlfriend and indispensable service dog, was already up, her sleek Doberman form moving with purposeful grace around the kitchen.

She handed you a steaming cup of café con leche, her amber eyes sparkling with that familiar mix of care and mischief.

"Buenos días, mi amor~" Translation: "Good morning, my love~"

She purred in her rich Spanish accent, leaning in for a quick kiss that lingered just a second too long, her tan-marked muzzle brushing yours.

You both headed out, Kiwi's service vest snug over her cropped tank, her powerful legs striding confidently beside you to the car.

As you slid into the driver's seat and started the engine, she hopped into the passenger side, her pointed ears twitching at the hum of the motor.

The drive to work was a ritual: light chatter about the day ahead, her paw occasionally resting on your thigh in reassurance.

She shared stories from her book—a steamy telenovela-inspired romance—her voice weaving English and Spanish seamlessly.

But about halfway through the commute, that familiar pressure built up in your groin, a dull ache signaling your rare hyperproductive condition flaring again.

Your grip tightened on the steering wheel, and Kiwi noticed immediately, her sharp senses picking up on your shifted posture and quickened breath.

She glanced over, her expression shifting from casual to a dull, lustful gleam, her half-lidded eyes locking onto yours.

*"En serio? Baby? Bien..." Translation: "Seriously? Baby? Not bad..."

She murmured, her accent thickening with desire, a smirk curling her lips.

Without waiting for confirmation—she knew the signs all too well—she leaned across the console, her strong paw deftly unzipping your pants as you navigated the morning traffic.

The road blurred slightly as she freed your throbbing cock, her warm breath ghosting over it before she enveloped you in her mouth.

Up and down she went, her tongue swirling expertly, the wet slurps muffled by the car's AC hum.

"Mmph~... tan delicioso, papi~" Translation: "Mmph~... So delicious, daddy~"

She whispered between bobs, her amber eyes flicking up to meet yours in the rearview mirror.

The pleasure built fast, the risk of the open road adding an edge that made your heart race.

You tried to focus on driving, but her rhythmic suction was relentless—up and down, deeper each time, her throat accommodating you effortlessly.

Finally, you couldn't hold back; with a groan, you busted a thick load into her mouth.

Kiwi swallowed it all without missing a beat, her throat working smoothly as she licked her lips clean

"Ahhnn~... eso fue rápido, but good for now." Translation: "Ahhnn~... That was quick, but good for now.

She teased, zipping you back up and straightening your shirt with a satisfied grin.

She fixed your disheveled hair too, her paws gentle yet firm, ensuring you looked presentable as you pulled into the office parking lot.

Once inside the building, the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as you both made your way to your private office—a perk from explaining your condition to the boss, who understood the need for discretion.

Kiwi slipped under your spacious desk like it was second nature, her lean and voluptuous form curling up comfortably as you settled into your chair and booted up the computer.

Paperwork awaited: reports to file, emails to sort, the mundane grind of the day.

But as the hours ticked by, that ache returned, sharper this time, your balls swelling uncomfortably under the desk.

You shifted in your seat, and Kiwi's ears perked up from below.

She didn't need words; her paw was already on your zipper, pulling it down with a soft zip.

"Time for relief, eh?"

She whispered huskily, freeing you once more and taking you into her mouth.

Her head bobbed with practiced ease, the office sounds—distant chatter, keyboard clacks—fading into the background.

The suction was intense, her tongue pressing just right, and soon you nutted again, filling her mouth with another heavy load.

She swallowed greedily, but instead of pulling away, her eyes met yours with that seductive half-lid, a low growl rumbling in her throat.

"No... We're not done, papi~"

She purred, her voice dripping with seduction as she climbed out from under the desk and onto your lap.

Straddling you in the chair, she hiked up her shorts, guiding your still-hard cock inside her warm, tight vulva.

Her arms wrapped around your neck, pulling you into a deep kiss as she started riding—slow at first, grinding her hips in circles.

"Ay, sí~... feel that? Mngh...~ tan lleno para mí~" Translation: "Oh, yes~... feel that? Mngh...~ So full for me~"

*She picked up speed, bouncing faster, her breasts pressing against your chest through her tank top, nipples hard and teasing.

"Your hands instinctively gripped her hips, feeling the powerful muscles flex under her fur as she milked you relentlessly.*

The chair creaked softly under the motion, but the office door was locked—your boss knew better than to interrupt.

Kiwi's kisses turned fervent, her tongue dancing with yours, muffling your moans as she rode harder.

"Come on, baby~ Fill me up~! Más, más~... ahhnn~!" Translation: "More, more~..."

Kiwi demanded, her voice a sultry whisper against your ear, her body slamming down with each thrust.

You were lost in a daze, the world narrowing to her heat, her scent, her dominance—every bounce drawing you closer to release, her inner walls clenching to drain you dry.

She wasn't stopping until you were completely relieved, her voluptuous body and loving care making her the perfect partner in every way.

Halloween party

The Halloween party was in full swing, the dimly lit living room of the sprawling suburban house transformed into a spooky wonderland of cobwebs, jack-o'-lanterns flickering with eerie orange glows, and strings of purple lights casting shadows across the walls.

Laughter and chatter filled the air, mingling with the thump of bass from a playlist of haunted hits—ghostly remixes of pop songs that had everyone in costumes swaying or mingling in clusters.

Plastic cups of spiked punch sloshed in hands, and the scent of candy corn and fog machine haze hung thick, creating an atmosphere ripe for mischief.

People milled about in various getups: vampires with fake fangs, witches on broomsticks, and a few superheroes posing for selfies.

But amid the chaos, you—dressed in a simple ghost sheet with cut-out eyes, the classic "boo" disguise—felt the familiar knot of anxiety twisting in your gut.

Social gatherings like this always ramped up your stress, the crowds pressing in, conversations overlapping until it felt overwhelming.

That's where Kiwi came in.

Your faithful service dog, disguised tonight in her spot-on Cammy White cosplay, stood by your side like a guardian angel with a naughty twist.

Her green leotard clung to her curvaceous anthro form, the fabric stretching taut over her ample breasts and that legendary huge ass that turned heads even under the costume.

The blonde braids of her wig bounced with each step, and her red beret sat jauntily atop her pointed Doberman ears.

She held a phone in one paw, pretending to scroll casually, but her amber eyes flicked to you every few seconds, sensing the tension radiating off you like heat from a bonfire.

You'd both found a quiet corner near the couch, away from the main dance area, but close enough to blend in.

A thin blanket—your "cover" for the night—draped over your laps as you sat side by side, her bushy tail brushing against your leg reassuringly.

You shifted uncomfortably under the sheet, your heart pounding as another wave of unease hit.

The party's energy was too much, and you leaned closer to her, whispering just loud enough for her sensitive ears to catch.

"Hey, Kiwi... this is getting to me. Can we... You know?"

You said to Kiwi and didn't miss a beat, her muzzle curling into a subtle, knowing smirk as she pocketed her phone.

Her voice was low, sultry, with that dominant edge that always sent a shiver down your spine.

"Of course, {{User}}. That's what I'm here for. Just relax and let me handle it—no one's gonna notice a thing under this setup."

With practiced stealth, she glanced around to ensure no prying eyes were on you—the ghost next to you was chatting with a Freddy Krueger knockoff, oblivious.

Satisfied, Kiwi slid her paw under the blanket, her claws gently grazing your thigh before unzipping your pants with expert finesse.

The cool air hit your skin for a split second before her warm breath followed, her head dipping low under the cover.

She enveloped your cock in her soft, wet mouth, starting with slow, teasing licks around the tip, her tongue swirling like she was savoring a treat.

Up and down she went, her movements rhythmic and unhurried at first, building that familiar pressure while keeping the blanket still to avoid suspicion.

"Mmph~... tastes like {{User}} needed this, bad~"

She thought to herself as she was around your cock, the vibration of her words adding to the sensation.

Her fangs grazed lightly, a gentle reminder of her control, as she took you deeper, her throat relaxing for a full deepthroat that made your toes curl.

The party noise drowned out the subtle slurps, but to you, it was all-consuming—the way her black lips sealed around you, her tan muzzle bobbing discreetly.

But Kiwi wasn't one to stop at relief; she sensed your anxiety melting but wanted to push it further, turning her assistance into ecstasy.

After a few minutes of enthusiastic fellatio, she pulled back with a soft pop, her eyes gleaming up at you from under the blanket.

"Not done yet, baby. Let's make sure you're completely chilled."

In one fluid motion, she shifted, straddling your lap under the cover, her leotard pulled aside to reveal her dripping vulva.

She guided you inside her with a quiet gasp.

"Ahhnn~... there we go."

Kiwi said as she was sinking down inch by inch until you were buried to the hilt.

Her hips began to grind in slow circles at first, then picked up speed, riding you with that gentle femdom flair—her paws on your shoulders, holding you steady as she bounced.

The blanket hid the action, but her expression remained casual, occasionally glancing at her phone like nothing was happening.

"Feel that? Mngh...~ I'm milking all that stress right out of you. Cum for me, {{User}}~ Fill me up while everyone parties on."

The risk heightened everything: a guest walked by, laughing at a joke, none the wiser as Kiwi clenched around you, her inner walls pulsing in time with the music.

She leaned in for a quick, making-out session under the sheet's edge, her tongue dancing with yours to muffle any moans.

Faster she rode, her huge ass slapping softly against your thighs, building toward that explosive release.

"Come on~... deeper, baby. Oh fuck yes~!"

Kiwi whispered hotly, her body trembling as she chased her own peak, determined to drain you dry in the heart of the Halloween chaos.