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The video had been playing for fourteen seconds before I realized what I was watching. My husband's hand was on my thigh, warm and familiar, sliding upward with that lazy confidence he'd perfected over four years of marriage. But I couldn't look away from the television screen. Couldn't process what my eyes were seeing. That woman—Candace, Candy—was absolutely stunning. Long legs, perfect breasts, that kind of California-girl beauty that made you feel plain just looking at her. And she was on her hands and knees on a plush rug while a massive Great Dane mounted her from behind. "No," I whispered, but the word came out wrong. It came out like a question. Clint's fingers brushed against the lace of my crotchless panties. I should have pushed him away. Should have demanded he turn it off. Should have asked where the hell this video came from and why he'd hidden it from me for years. Instead, I watched Candy's head fall back. Watched her mouth open in a soundless scream. Watched her body shudder with what looked unmistakably like an orgasm. "That's..." I couldn't finish the sentence. "That's Candy," Clint said softly. "Our old neighbor. I found this when I was fourteen." Fourteen. I should have been horrified. Should have felt disgust. But my body was betraying me. My nipples had hardened against the silk of my nightgown, and between my legs, I could feel the heat of my own arousal. What the hell was wrong with me? On screen, Candy was being knotted. I knew enough about dogs to understand what I was seeing, and Candy was still moaning, still moving, still coming undone beneath that massive animal. "This is what got me hooked," Clint whispered, and his voice was thick with want. "Watching her. Imagining someone else in her place." He didn't say my name. He didn't have to. The video ended. The television defaulted back to the browsing screen, and another clip began to auto-play. A blonde woman I didn't recognize, also beautiful, also on her knees. Also taking a dog. Clint's finger slipped inside me, and I gasped. "Tell me to stop," he said. "Tell me this is too much." I should have said it. Should have pushed his hand away. Should have gotten up and walked out of the bedroom and never spoken of this again. But I didn't. "Where did you get this?" I asked instead, my voice barely above a whisper. "From their trash. They moved away, left boxes on the curb. I was a curious kid." "You kept it." "I transferred it to a USB drive when DVDs became obsolete." He was still touching me. Still moving his finger in slow, deliberate circles. And I was still watching the woman on screen, watching the way her body accepted, watching the way she arched into each thrust. "Does this turn you on?" I asked. "Yes." The honesty caught me off guard. I twisted to look at him, and I saw the vulnerability in his eyes. The fear. He thought I was going to reject him. "Show me more," I heard myself say. Chapter 2 I don't know what I expected when I said those words. Maybe more videos. Maybe stories. Maybe a conversation about fantasy versus reality. Not Bandit. Bandit was our Cane Corso, a hundred and ten pounds of muscle and loyalty and terrible breath. He was lying at the foot of our bed, his head on his paws, watching us with those intelligent dark eyes. "You want to... with him?" I asked, and my voice cracked on the last word. "Not all the way," Clint said quickly. "Just to see. What he does. How he reacts." "How he reacts to what?" Clint didn't answer. He just kept looking at me with that hungry, hopeful expression. I should have said no. I knew I should have said no. But I thought about the video. Thought about Candy's face as she came undone. Thought about the way her body had accepted something so forbidden and found pleasure in it. "Fine," I heard myself say. "We can try. Just... just seeing what he does." Bandit perked up at the sound of my voice, his tail thumping against the mattress. He was always excited to be on the bed, a privilege usually reserved for special occasions. I lay back against the pillows, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. Clint positioned himself beside me, one hand on my hip, guiding me. "Spread your legs," he said softly. I did. Bandit's nose twitched. He could smell my arousal—I could see it in the way his ears perked forward, the way his whole body tensed. Slowly, he crawled up the bed, his massive head lowering between my thighs. This is wrong, I thought. This is so wrong. But I didn't stop him. His tongue was hot and rough against me, and I flinched at the unfamiliar sensation. But I didn't close my legs. Didn't push him away. "It's okay," Clint whispered. "Just let him explore." His tongue moved higher. Cautious at first, then bolder. When he finally made contact with my clllit, I gasped. "Oh my God." His tongue was unlike anything I'd ever felt. Longer than a human tongue, rougher, more insistent. He licked me in long, sweeping strokes that seemed to reach places inside me I didn't know existed. "How does it feel?" Clint asked. "Different," I breathed. "So different." But I didn't say stop. I didn't pull away. Bandit seemed to sense my hesitation and my interest. He pressed closer, his snout nudging against my folds, his tongue penetrating deeper. I moaned, my hips lifting off the bed. "Oh, fuck." Clint's hand found mine, squeezing tight. "Is this okay?" I couldn't answer. Could only nod, my eyes squeezed shut, my body consumed by sensations I'd never experienced before. Bandit's tongue curled inside me, and I saw stars. Click to continue reading👉👉