Chapter 12

On the other side of the wall, John stroked Sarah’s hair, as she lovingly licked and sucked his deflating cock, looking up at him with an expression of pure satisfaction and devotion. At their age, she knew he was “one and done,” but she always ended their sessions like this, because she loved him, she loved his cock, and she loved the taste of their combined juices.

As if mirror images of each other, separated only by a thin wall, Michelle slid down Chico’s body, still petting his head while whispering words of gratitude, and took his needy cock into her warm, eager mouth. Unlike everyone else in the Lynch household, Chico had not yet cum that night, and Michelle couldn’t stand the thought of him going unsatisfied. She winced at first, due to the bitter taste of the watery precum, but then began sucking the dog in earnest, reveling at how different it felt in her mouth and on her tongue than any other cock she had sucked before ... John closed his eyes, and allowed his imagination to engage, conjuring images of the lips and tongue on his cock being those of his 22-year old daughter. He had no way of knowing exactly what her lips and tongue were currently doing, no more than 6 feet from where he lay,. Michelle coughed and spit out the first mouthful of Chico’s ejaculate, the taste, force and sheer volume taking her by surprise. She kept jerking his cock and stared at his fully expanded knot, which was now about the size of her fist. She shivered at thought of something so broad being stuck inside her, trying to catch more of Chico’s cum in her mouth, as he squirted the last of his dog cum on her face, neck, and breasts.

Still laying in the large wet spot on the hardwood floor, Michelle kissed Chico on his head, as his satisfied cock shrank and retreated within its protective sheath. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Michelle smiled, and wondered aloud, “What would John and Sarah Lynch do if they knew their “good girl” was a filthy dog fucker?” She allowed sleep to overtake her, and drifted into a deep and heavy slumber, spooning with her childhood pet.

Monday morning, Michelle returned to work with newfound confidence, refreshed, relaxed and incredibly satisfied. While there were intermittent pangs of guilt mixed in, she was mostly convinced that what she did over the weekend did not hurt anyone, and quite to the contrary, made her, and Chico, feel pretty fucking good.

The week flew by, between the never-ending stream of files, and being pulled in several different directions by the senior associates, but Michelle took it all in stride, having had scratch an itch that she hadn’t realized had been bothering her for a while.

It was already Friday, and Michelle had been waffling all week about a return trip home, rationalizing to herself it was just to see her parents and get another home-cooked meal. As she was about to call her mother and tell her to start cooking another crock of her world famous macaroni & cheese, her computer dinged with an appointment notification, reminding her that she had a meeting with Julie Covington McGill in the Smith Room in 15 minutes.