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Scamp and Angel lay on the cool tile floor, sleeping, head to head, and back to back. The temperature had fallen to a high of 77 degrees. No longer was an over easy baking sun granting humidity over the Jim Dear, and Darling address. Steady rain, and booming thunder with flashing lightning, decorated the Massachusetts sky.

The night before, Angel and Scamp had had it out, a little spat. Scamp felt Angel was sort of a "Scarlet Letter" representative with the dead father of her baby. Then, afterwards, Angel had given him a real lashing on two sides with both anger, and affection, swallowing his puppy hood following a wonderful tongue bath.

Bong, bong, bong! rang the grandfather clock, followed by several more times in the large family's spacious living room. Nine o' clock. It was apparent that Jim Dear, Darling, and the dogs had left Angel and Scamp to be, to sleep under the breakfast nook table, and had not noticed anything too odd about their new sleeping positions.

Angel was the first to blink her eyes, and look around. A small smile caressed her lips, and with an upward swing of her cream head, and a tilt to the left, she yipped in goofy glee. "Hey, Scamp, wake up!" The grey mutt-looking pup twitched a little, his eyes opened slow, and he yawned. "What?" he half yawned, and asked.

"It's nine o' clock," said Angel, walking toward the threshold between kitchen and living room.

"So it is," Scamp agreed, stretching his front legs out, and offered a playful run towards his Pomeranian "lover". "Hey, I . . . I'm sorry about last night."

Biting her "friend" with a playful nip on his muzzle, she huffed. "Scamp, if you don't shut up about it, I'll never wash your cock again, darling."

At the sound of that, Scamp's kielbasa cock left its safe cocoon within his puppy body, and poked out, as if sniffing around for some more play. His tongue began to hang longer from his mouth, as if the temperature inside the house was very warm, instead of cool, and pleasant.

"Why don't you make me some breakfast, Angel?" asked Scamp, with an evil, little smirk on his face, walking with a large, high strut around the circumference of the living room.

"Who do you think I am, Scamp?" cried the sexy little Pomeranian, both ears pointed in different directions, her head fur still a bit matted from the previous night's several cum baths. "Your bitch?"

Hearing the words, Scamp raised his goofy-eyed, black-nosed head even higher, saying, "Yeah, you're my bitch! Deal with it."

In mock irritation, Angel gasped, and ran at Scamp, leaping up so that when she landed, her moistening, musky crotch had hit direct on the gentlepup's lips. Without the consideration of asking for consent, Scamp buried his long, hot tongue deep inside Angel's lava liquid tomb, and began to eat her for breakfast instead.

"GODDAMN, SCAMP!" moaned Angel loud, surprised that so far, she had not heard any noise from inside the house from any of the family, nor their canine comrades. She wondered where they could be on this young morning, but all concerns of their whereabouts became secondary, as Scamp worked her love hole with great grace, and tender skill. Scamp lay on his back, his head buried under Angel's crotch, now soaking Scamp's grateful muzzle, and face, with gracious amounts of yummy juices, and musky odor. Angel, meanwhile, was on the opposite, lying upright, her front legs stretched way out, with her lavish blue eyes, and darling black eyelashes which fluttered up, and down. Outside, the rain fell harder, and a fresh peal of lightning sent the multi-story house a-shaking. Instead of scaring the young, brave pussy eater, Scamp dug his tongue inside even harder, hungry for that rare honey which just comes from giving the female partner her orgasm, too.

Howling with madness, Angel did come, in time. In time, indeed, just as car lights pulled up into the half-circle driveway, large, and glowing against the grayish-blue outside. Jim Dear, Darling, baby, Lady, Tramp, and the other puppies had left for a while, to go grocery shopping. They had felt leaving Scamp, and Angel, alone in the house while they were gone was just fine.

Scamp's face covered in a rich bath of puppy girl cream was a darling sight for his Angel to behold. "Oh, Scamp," giggled the smooth, illustrious princess pup, seeming to float over to her Scamp, and commencing to lick her essence from his front. "Mmm, I taste rather good, if I do say so."

The front door opened, and the family entered, with the regular sound of hoopla, and happiness, abounding. Soon, the Westfield house was filled with a new warmth of happy family love, and sensibility.

"Did you two behave yourselves while we were gone?" asked Lady, as she made her way over to the tiny two. "Of course we did!" exclaimed the two, giggling.

"I had a good breakfast," murmured the gray troublemaker, and Angel hearing him, laughed loud, and the two ran into the kitchen, to join their merry throng of cherished family, both human, and furry.