Marsha's back ached from the slumped position she kept while hovering over the stack of bills and bank statements. She habit of leaving all her bookkeeping for one marathon session worked fine for all the days she did not have to do it. When, at the last possible moment, she forced herself to do the chore she found it overwhelming.
It took immense concentration for the woman to keep the figures straight, which accounted for her not knowing where Curly, her pet Poodle, was at any given moment. Her surprise of feeling a cold, wet thing graze the inside of her thigh made her scream aloud. Realization dawned quickly enough, and her relief to find that it was Curly's nose and not a snake or something crawling between her legs.
Shaking her head, Marsha looked under the kitchen table.
"Curly, you're naughty. Get out of there." Her admonition was half hearted, however, and the dog ignored his mistress. Marsha tried to go back to the job at hand, but Curly's curiosity brought his snout right back under the over-long T-shirt that served as her nightie. A frustrated sigh rose from deep in her chest. She didn't want to get angry with the dog. He was a loyal friend, and good company during the long days her husband was on the road.
It wasn't his fault she hadn't bathed in two days. It was the weekend, after all, and more and more weekends with out her man around were spent home alone. Why go to a lot of bother if you aren't going to see anyone, Marsha reasoned. So she wore the same panties now that she pulled on while dressing for work on Friday. The same panties she had masturbated in Friday night, Saturday morning afternoon and evening. She knew for a fact that her crotch emitted a pungent odor. She smelled it herself when she went to the bathroom that morning. She couldn't blame Curly for his instinct to investigate such fragrances.
Marsha shrugged her shoulders and pushed away from the table. She needed a break anyway. Maybe she should take a shower and wash some of the grime from her 32-year-old body. It would be quite embarrassing if anyone came to the door right now. She wouldn't dare answer it.
"So, you think momma stinks, do you?" Marsha pulled back the hem of her shirt, examining herself. The light blue underpants were visibly stained, her vaginal lubrication having soaked through the fabric and dried to a crusty white. "I'd have to agree with you on that, Curly."
The animal looked up at her, whining at the sound of his name. Then he looked at the human's soiled garment. Stepping closer, Curly sniffed at the source of the entrancing odor, then lapped at it.
"Oh, Curly! I guess you think momma smells good." The housewife watched her pet sniff and lick at the crotch of her panties, amused by this curious behavior. Could it possible hurt anything to let Curly have what he wanted?
Maybe if he got it out of his system Marsha could get back to work. It had not been her plan to shower yet. It had been to finish paying the bills, then lounge around the house for hours, masturbating. She had made herself do the work first, so it would get done, and then play. It was still a good plan, and a short break could get it back in motion.
Careful not to discourage the large Poodle from his quest, the petite brunette eased her panties off her hips and down her legs. Petting Curly gently behind the ears, Marsha opened her legs wider and slouched in the chair.
"There it is boy. Clean momma up and make her smell better." Marsha watched her pet sniff and lap her genitals eagerly. His tongue flicked through her pubic hair and matted it to her cooze. It found her slit a honey-pot of tasty fluids, and licked harder to get inside. The woman helped by pulling her knees up and wide, opening her cooze for her pet.
"That's it baby, do a good job."
The warm, wet, raspy flesh tickled her cunnie, and brought it to life. Marsha didn't think it would feel bad, but she never expected Curly's tongue to feel so good on her genitals. His snout tweaked her clit a couple of times, and the lashing tongue stabbed right into her volva.
"Oh, Curly! You've got talent, my sweet pet." Marsha briefly considered in simply riding the licking out until she had an orgasm, letting herself go with the pleasure this animal was giving her. She closed her eyes and imagined she was at the mercy of a beast. But then it would be over, and the horny woman did not want that. Now that she had a companion willing to participate, the brunette decided to make the best of it.
That meant getting the bookkeeping done first. Marsha pushed Curly away with kind words: promises of better things to come if he just let her finish. Locking her knees together and ignoring the dog's whining pleas, she finished the chores at hand as best she could.
She had a headache when she put the last of the paid bills into the stack for the post office and the adding machine in its drawer. A drink would cure that. Marsha mused about what her next move as she poured the alcohol into a glass. She definitely wanted to feel Curly's tongue on her pussy again. Had it been a fluke? Could her dog possibly develop a taste for her messy twat? Did she dare try, not knowing what the consequences might be? She strolled over to Curly's pillow bed, thinking she would let him make the call.
"Hey, boy. Still feeling naughty?" Marsha sipped from her glass.
The Poodle looked up, whined and panted. He licked his chops and stood, as if in answer to his mistress' question, and tentatively lifted his snout to the hem of the human's garment. The odor was still there, but would the woman allow him to resume his fascination with it? He looked into her eyes for a sign.
Marsha lifted the T-shirt hem just enough to expose her matted black muff.
"Did you clean me up so well? Do I need to make fresh cum for you, baby?" She applied fingertips to her bug, just over the hood of her sensitive clit. Immediately her body responded, sending a warm flush down her thighs and across her chest. Feet taking a wider stance, Marsha reached deeper into her cooze. She was pleased to find her juices flowing again, and began pulling the viscous fluid from her volva and painting it over her labia.
Curly's tail wagged as his mistress started purring with pleasure. He liked his favorite human best when she exuded that contented, intimate mood, that sense of need for closeness only hinted at when she petted his head. And that smell. That smell he so long been attracted to but only this day dare allow himself the liberty of discovering its flavor. It was growing stronger now, and rather than hide it between crossed legs, his human companion held it out to him, offering the treat to him.
"Come on boy, taste it." Curly brought his nose closer. His tongue lashed out, slapping Marsha's proffered gash unerringly. Marsha sipped her drink and let Curly eat her coozie juice up. "Oh, yes baby, that's it. Ooooooooo, yeah, stick that tongue of yours right into me," she cooed, for that's just what the animal was doing.
.... There is more of this story ...