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Mrs. B. was definitely given to buyer’s remorse. Each time she had sex with me, she would act really distant and embarrassed for awhile, trying to pretend nothing had happened, and trying to avoid being around me. I managed once to be alone in the room with her and I came up behind her and lifted her dress and squeezed her ass. She looked at me with a sad smile (and checked out the bulge in my pants),

“Good boy, Brucie! Good boy!” I encouraged him, ruffling his neck. “Mommy's turn this time!” And with a tongue-lolling doggie grin, he finally made his move, jumping up onto Mom's back and starting to thrust himself at her. She gasped in some combination of surprise, doubt, and fear, and I took her hand in mine, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “Try to get a little lower, if you can,” I advised her. “If you let him get all four paws on the ground he'll be way less likely to scratch you with his claws. It'll feel better, too, if you give him more leverage for thrusting.” She did as I said, lowering her hips and pressing those huge, hanging tits firmly into the carpet, her eyes clenched closed as she waited for it to happen. Bruce was having a little trouble finding his mark, as he always did, so I reached in under her with my other hand and spread her thick, meaty lips with my fingers. That got it done, her eyes popping wide as that hot doggie cock finally slid inside. His claws scratched at the carpet as he tried to reposition himself, giving himself one more deep, forceful drive into her depths.

“I found a book my Dad has about sex and fucking and foreplay and all that stuff. You know I’m a good student!!” I joked. Mrs. B. laughed a bit then reached back and grabbed my hair and pushed my face back into her pussy.