She had sworn to herself she wasn’t going to do it again. But here she was, behind a parked car in yet another dank and quiet alley way, willingly parting her long, bare legs and lifting her skirt hem for another dog’s curious muzzle while the animal’s leering owner and her father looked on. This one was grayish, rangy-legged, nondescript. A mutt. But a mutt definitely now into the smell and flavor of an offered treat of pussy.

In no time her hips were rocking in that usual wanton way, inviting the full length of supple, slick-rough dog tongue inside her body. She barely heard the lewd words that spilled from the mouths of the two men. She didn’t see just when the both fished out stiffening dicks and started to stroke themselves while watching her succumb to her dog lust. She only remembered noticing at some point in her canine reverie they both were jerking off, in her general direction, and close enough to score a hit. Her crotch and thighs were now visibly slick with dog drool, seasoned and sticky with the juices of her own arousal.

“Yes, she loves sucking their cocks,” she heard her Dad say, “And she looks great doing it, even if it does give her dirty knees.” She moaned at the words, knowing full well he was right, craning her neck a little to try and get a look around and under at the mutt’s crotch package without losing cunt contact with his tongue. All she had seen when the tryst began was his magnificent ball sac, hanging out back full and velvety-looking under the erect, swaying tail. It was that smooth, fine-haired ball sac that only some breeds have. It was that kind of smooth that begged for the coddling touch of a soft, pink tongue.

She heard her father telling the man how low she had to go to suck yorkie dick the previous week. “She got a rug burn on her cheeks,” her father joked, “but she got her load.” The two men laughed. She blushed, but even so she still reached down to grab an ass cheek and gave it a little tug aside to give the mutt full access to the cleft between her buttocks. She grunted as that tongue swirled on the hypersensitive anal pucker, then groaned with a full-body quiver as the tongue went pointy and pushed, then slide a few centimeters inside.

“Fuck she likes that, doesn’t she,” the guy commented.

“She loves that, giving and getting,” her father confirmed as he nodded.

“Don’t you want to suck his dick, Keryl?” Her father then asked, knowing full well the answer.

She didn’t reply or nod, just glanced at him with a tortured look that said everything he needed to know about her divine agony: split between the animal lusts her father encouraged and supported, and her innate embarrassment over a stranger seeing her giving in so to it-- and in a public place.

“I think he definitely wants her to blow him, Jack,” the stranger said. After a good deep licking-out like that my dog deserves a favor.” Her father didn’t reply further, but his eyes sparkled with approval and his hand went back to a good vigorous stroking as she slid from the position she had been holding, her lower back braced against the trunk of the car.

Unsure of the woman’s intent, the dog stopped licking, and looked ready to bolt. He seemed to know he’d been getting away with something he normally wasn’t supposed to. The owner, whose name her Dad had mentioned was Larry or something like that, let go of the hard-on projecting from his open jeans front long enough to grab the dog’s collar and calm him while Keryl went to her hands and knees at the big mutt’s side. She didn’t make eye contact with the man as her head pushed under the dog’s belly. They heard her sniff, and then as the two men bent for a closer look, saw the pink tongue flash as she lapped against the tip of the dog’s cock sheath. The dog assumed a tense stance, unsure of this new attention, but tolerating it. When they saw her cheeks start to hollow rhythmically they knew she was sucking the cock tip from of the dog’s sheath, nursing on it wantonly and encouraging the growth of the heated prong.

“Fuck, look at the bitch,” the Larry guy said again, and gave up his grip on the dog to jerk his cock again. “Stay, Fargo, stay! Let her eat a load out of you,” he commanded.

The dog appeared nervous, but obliged, standing still and accepting her mouth--probably more because what the women was doing to his dick was beginning to feel a lot less strange and a lot more really good, than because his master had willed it.

Soon instinct kicked in and the hips of the dog apparently named Fargo started pumping, as if Keryl’s mouth was a perfect dog cunt. Thankfully his strokes were still measured, not full force, and Keryl easily adjusted mouth and throat angle to take them. In her experience most dogs held back a bit, and didn’t uncork a full fuck hump the first few times they were sucked off. That was fortunate, as this dog’s cock was big enough to gag her. She swallowed the full length of it when he humped in, taking it with a wet suction betrayed by slurps on his out-strokes, and immediately bobbed her head to meet the next thrust in quick succession, her lewd actions both encouraging the thrusts and allowing her to savor them. It also encouraged the men, who both, judging by the rate of their breathing and the intensity of their hand strokes, seemed to be nearing orgasm.

Jack reached down and fished Keryl’s bare boobs from the confines of her sweater top, giving each lush orb a couple of gentle, fatherly squeezes before letting them dangle so the men could watch them jiggle and swing with the force of Keryl’s efforts to meet the dog’s face-fucking. The nipples looked to be about the diameter and color of fresh pencil erasers, but longer, like two exclamation points on the obscene heat of the coupling.

So far she’d only suckled and swallowed several mouthfuls of precum from the mutt. It was sweet, hot and brassy-tasting, but it wasn’t his load. The Larry guy, not as familiar as Keryl and her father with canine sexual habits, thought his dog must be already climaxing, but Jack explained the situation. That didn’t seem to do much to slow down Larry’s own climax, however. Within a minute he grunted an oath, stepped forward, a bit clumsy with his jeans and underwear around his thighs, and tossed off.

Keryl first smelled it, then felt the warm dollops of cum strike and cling to her bare breasts, and then her cheek. A large ribbon of it laid in her auburn hair, where she continued to smell it--that particular subtle pungency of thousands sperms wriggling in the mad scramble to find an egg. She was glad she had no eggs in her hair. She knew her father’s firm agreement with dog owners was no touching, and no shooting sperm in the region of his daughter’s vagina. Some male dog owners seemed to like the situation even more intently with the implication she was fertile.

She heard her father chuckle. He could tell by the smallest shifts in her breathing and pace, the curl of her lip or slight arch of her breast, when her arousal shifted into a deeper gear. Knowing she had made the man empty his balls usually buoyed her with both a sense of relief and a feeling of accomplishment. It was a sort of pride in degradation, possibly the most honest kind of pride there is. But she kept her intent focus on her canine lover, and probably poor Larry, still seeing stars as his cock wilted in his hand with a pearly drop of semen at the tip, didn’t notice any of this. A minute later he was more concerned about wiping a spray of jism he’d left on his own pants than anything else.