The Buck Stops Here

The party was obviously a success, judging from the debris in the house and that you’re still sleeping soundly with the sun already up. At least the guests, while enjoying themselves, kept the trash to a minimum, so I mostly have to only round up the used paper plates and empty beer and soda cans and bottles and bring them into the kitchen. I’d wakened up wanting a nice round of sex in bed (I’d gotten in too late to even manage a quickie before the party, and I’d crashed while it was still going on), but I’m reluctant to wake you. I decided to tidy up and hope that a little more sleep on your part will make you willing to see about making up for lost time.
I’m quiet as I move around the living room and kitchen, not wanting to disturb you with clinking bottles. I haven’t even bothered to dress, wanting to slip out of your bedroom quickly, for the same reason. It’s a nice warm spring morning anyway, and it’s great to wander around the house naked. Even after cleaning up in the living room, there’s no signs of life from the bedroom, and I sigh and decide to wash what dishes need being washed. Buck, your big black Labrador retriever, has been up and down several times in the morning, padding in and out of the bedroom even before I got up, and now that I’ve been working in another part of the house, he’s kept me company, or at least not bothered to return to his rug, on your side of the bed. He wanders back at forth through the dog-door several times, and I’m surprised that he’s shown no interest in the leftovers on plates left on the low coffee table, or any other place he’d be able to reach.
I don’t pay much attention to him as he begins his countless next patrol of the backyard, instead washing dishes and thinking how we’re going to spend the day. I’d like it to be in bed, as soon as possible, and I might have to wake you up, whether or not you’re ready. You looked so good lying there, naked, not even a sheet pulled up over us, that it took a lot of will-power on my account not to run my fingers over your cock or to lean over and give it a line of good morning kisses. I might have to rethink that after I finish with the dishes.
Buck returns, and I confess that I don’t notice him until I feel his wet nose leave a cold print on my butt. I startle and am about to turn and tell him to stop it, but he just as quickly gives me a lick with his wet, much warmer tongue, and with amazing agility, it snakes between my barely-parted legs. The reprimand I’d been planning is immediately forgotten, and I lean heavily against the counter, surprised by the sensation. It is instantly stimulating, and I press my mound against the cabinet, freezing in position. Buck gives me another lick, and I moan low. This seems to encourage him, and he shifts directly behind me, continuing to lick at me. I find myself moving my legs an inch or two apart and slowly pushing my ass backward, toward him. I keep moaning every time his tongue licks out, and his head is closer now, as he seems to be working his tongue up my thighs, as close to my crotch as he can. By hit and miss, he is finding my lips and making them damp, although I can feel myself lubricating and causing them to get wet as well. I rest my forearms on the sink, drop my head, and just enjoy Buck’s very friendly actions.
He keeps up his licking, moving his head around to try and find every crevice, and I shift from time to time to offer him more access. He stops abruptly and walks away, as if suddenly disinterested. I turn around and see with surprise and panic that he’s plopped himself into a sit on the floor and is licking his groin. After a few seconds, he sits straighter and looks at me. I can’t help but stare at the three-inch, fire-engine red, cock sticking out of his sheath. It seems to radiate against his black fur. He makes no effort to come over to me again but seems only wanting to show me his cock, and a minute later, he’s licking noisily between his legs again.
I hurry out of the kitchen to get away from Buck, but this is partly due to my own guilt at having led him on. If I hadn’t let him lick me, I’m sure he would’ve have gotten excited. I admit to myself that I’m running away because the thought of having Buck erect is stimulating, and in spite of trying to keep my cool, I feel abundant pussy juice between my lips now, no longer being lapped up by him.
I decide to take refuge in the bedroom, and although I hadn’t thought of closing the door, I find that Buck has trotted briskly behind me and beats me into the room. His tail is wagging and he bounces a little to see that you’re still in bed, but awake. I hang back by the door, as though he’s going to tell you what I’ve let him do to me. That’s silly, of course, but as he paces back and fort at the side of the bed, I know you can see that he’s aroused.
“Oh, you poor guy,” you tell him, looking up at me. “There’s a bitch in heat about four houses down the street. Buck’s too much of a gentleman to jump the fence or dig under it, but the smell of her has been driving him nuts.”
Suddenly it all makes sense!