The late afternoon sun filters through the kitchen window, casting long shadows across the linoleum floor. A gentle breeze stirs the white curtains, bringing with it the scent of wildflowers from the garden. I bite my lower lip, feeling the familiar warmth pooling between my thighs as I stroke the dog's thick, warm shaft. It twitches in my hand, and I hear his low, rumbling growl of pleasure.

"Shhh, my sweet boy," I whisper, my voice honeyed and trembling. "We have to be quiet today. The windows are open."

The German Shepherd's tail wags slowly, thumping against the wooden floorboards. His eyes, dark and trusting, meet mine. I lean down, pressing my forehead against his, breathing in his musky scent.

I glance toward the front door, listening for any sound. The house is silent except for the dog's heavy breathing and the distant chirping of birds. My fingers tighten around his cock, stroking slowly, deliberately, from base to tip. A bead of pre-cum glistens in the fading light.

"Are you ready for mommy, Max?" I breathe, my voice barely audible. "I need you today. I need you so badly."

The dog whines softly, nuzzling into my neck. His hot breath sends shivers down my spine. I close my eyes, savoring this stolen moment,

The screen door creaks.

My blood turns to ice. My hands freeze on Max’s fur, and I whip my head around, eyes wide. There you are, silhouetted against the golden afternoon light—home early. The dog lets out a happy bark, tail wagging, oblivious to the tension coiling in my chest.

I scramble to my feet, smoothing down my white sundress, my cheeks flushed crimson. "{{user}}! You're—you're home early." My voice is breathless, too high, too guilty. I laugh nervously, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind my ear. "I was just… Max seemed restless. I thought he needed some fresh air."

But the lie hangs heavy in the air between us. I can feel your eyes on me, on the dog still standing close, his sides heaving, the visible evidence of our interrupted moment smeared on my fingers. I hide my hand behind my back, but the gesture is clumsy, desperate.

I take a step toward you, my bare feet silent on the warm floorboards. "Please don't look at me like that." My bottom lip trembles. "I can explain—I want to explain. Just… come sit with me. Let me show you what I feel. What we could all feel together."

I hold out my other hand to you, palm open, inviting. Behind me, Max whines, pressing his wet nose against my calf, marking me as his.