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“Go, go, go!” A woman’s voice shouted, its owner a slender looking dalmatian, if she was viewed from behind. Standing tall in the bleachers overlooking a little league baseball field, she was dressed in a pair of slim fit jeans, an oversized jersey hanging loosely over her shoulders as she held her hands to her muzzle in the shape of a horn. “Go!” She shouted again. She wasn’t the only parent cheering and shouting, but she was the loudest. “He heard you, babe!” Trent told his wife, Brandy, now reaching out to grab the back of her jersey, tugging her backwards to make her sit. She pivoted, spinning around to look at him before swatting his hand away from the back of her jersey. “Be excited!” She scolded him, then pivoted back to resume shouting at their son who was now standing at third base, panting and looking winded from a fierce sprint. He clapped for his son, then reached back out to take his wife by the back of her jersey. With some effort he did get her to sit back down next to him. “You’re mad at me but you’re the one he gets upset with for embarrassing him in front of everyone.” He made sure to remind her. Brandy huffed in reply, then lifted her giant tumbler to her lips to take a big drink of water from the straw. His wife didn’t argue with him any after that, she got overhyped at every ball game. She was the perpetual tomboy mom, the soccer mom (baseball actually), the kind of woman that misplaced her girly girl nature and had to pick up a replacement from the Bass Pro Shops Pyramid. Ben, their son, got more outdoor activity out of his mother than he did dear ole dad, which was crazy since his mother was only ever a cheerleader at best when she was younger. When she popped out a son something must have snapped in her, and she turned into a boy mom. “If they win this game they are…” She started to say but just clenched her fists together in front of her and let them vibrate, having already sat her tumbler back down to the aluminum bench under their butts. “I know, I know.” He assured her that he knew. Oh, he definitely knew, he’d heard it a hundred times. Ben’s team was doing really good this year, better than the previous few. He was about to age out, so this was his last chance to be on a team that went the distance and won it all. This was an important game, the furthest his team had come in a season of little league baseball. Trent didn’t really care either way, one way or the other. Oh, he loved his little boy and wanted him to win, but he was not a sports guy. It didn’t matter how the game turned out because he was still going to congratulate Ben for how well he played regardless of the game’s outcome. If they happened to lose then he’d just think of something nice to do for him later, maybe take Ben somewhere fun after Trent got back from his Colorado trip. “He’s doing great. Don’t be hard on him if his team loses though. It’s not his fault the rest of the team doesn’t have you for a mom.” He told her. She sighed with exasperation, lifting the tumbler back up as she stared anxiously at the field. The current batter was on track to strike out. She was fixated on the field, mesmerized, her eyes darting from player to player like she was a real sports analyst. When the game finally ended it was dark, the sky had a pretty view of the twinkling stars on the purest black. Ben’s team had won, but only just barely. He calmly congratulated his son and gave his teammates some modest praise, Trent being the ever-stoic father and husband. Meanwhile, his wife was the loud, noisy, soccer mom that couldn’t contain herself. She was living vicariously through their son. He had no idea what life would be like if they’d had a girl instead, especially one that was an actual girl and not a tomboy like momma. She’d be driving their daughter nuts if they had one. “Ben played great tonight, he was hustling.” A familiar face named Tony told him. Tony was the coach for his son’s team, a tall great dane that worked for a construction company professionally but volunteered for little league in the summer as that was his passion slash pet project when he wasn’t working a job site. “I know, he played like he knew it was important.” Trent replied, totally in agreement. He was proud of his son for hustling so hard, he just hoped that hustle carried over into other things in life. Like school, or a job. All the parents were hanging out to enjoy the post-game while the kids from both teams had ice cream and pizza, which had been brought in by the other team’s coach. Both teams pooled money so everyone got a piece of the pie after the game was done, so all the kids were having a good time, even the losers. It was good that everyone was promoting good sportsmanship. They were all having a great time, but he knew Ben would be out like a light soon as they got home. Exhausted from the game and crashing out from the calorie overload. “He been acting like he wants to keep playing baseball?” One of the other dads then asked, another dalmatian, much like his own wife. Except this dalmatian was the parent to a pair of fraternal twins. Only one was a boy so his daughter was the only child eating pizza and ice cream that hadn’t earned it through playing sports ball. “Not so far, I don’t think he’s thinking that far ahead.” Trent replied. “Mine is. He’s been blowing his allowance on baseball cards and talking nonstop about his favorite players. He says he wants to go pro.” The dad then laughed at his own words. “He’s gonna have to hustle a lot harder than he did out there.” Tony told him. “Whose gotta hustle?” His wife’s voice suddenly came out of nowhere. Brandy approached, hooking her arm in with her husband’s. He didn’t let it show, but Trent had caught the look she’d given the great dane. The two didn’t like each other ever since they’d gotten into an argument over letting her help as an assistant coach. He’d told her no, that he didn’t need one of the moms playing favorites in front of the other boys. That had led to an ugly argument that almost resulted in Ben not being allowed to play this year. Again, something snapped in her when she popped out a boy. Honestly, Trent was a little upset by it too, but he had to play peacemaker. His wife could be a handful, could be very opinionated at times. Someone had to do the thinking while she could do the feeling. “Mine. He’s got Babe Ruth dreams I think, wants to go pro.” The other dalmatian explained. Her eyes lit up at the news. “Let him! You just mean him playing on the school team when he’s old enough to try out?” She asked. “I guess that’s what he wants. He’s just playing with his baseball cards like their Pokémon cards. Fantasy baseball teams.” The dalmatian said, speaking to all of them really. “Oh, is he really?” The dane laughed at the card comment. The dad shrugged. Brandy was delighted though. “Well, good for him! I wish Ben would open up like that and get excited. I don’t think he’s even thinking about it.” She replied, looking over to her husband like she wanted backup. “We could probably start asking him what he wants to do.” He told her. “Ben has it in him, at least the ability. He’s got to have the heart for it though if he wants to play several more years of it in school.” The dane cut in, his wife now noticeably giving him the stink eye. Unsubtle. “Your sons a good kid, if he really wanted to he’d hack it.” The other dalmatian added. The adults continued to talk, with his wife eventually migrating from his right side to his left to put distance between her and the dane. His wife alternated between living vicariously through their son, insinuating that she was hoping he’d continue to play baseball for the next several years, and then talking up the other dad about his own son’s future as a potential Babe Ruth. Trent didn’t try to stop her, it was her hobby, and so far it wasn’t doing their son any harm. He had to feign a polite smile whenever the other dalmatian worked in a compliment towards Ben, noticing how the dog would then find subtle ways of turning it into a flirty compliment towards his mother. It was very passive, very subtle, but Trent was an equally red-blooded male and noticed the advances. He’d seduced Brandy himself after all; experience pays off when you’re successfully married. The two dalmatians were equally good looking, and would have made quite the couple, so the tabloid rags would have said. But Brandy was still standing on his left side with her arm hooked in with his where it belonged. “I think we should look into some summer camps for baseball, I’m sure there are sport camps like that. There’s a camp for everything!” His wife turned to look up at him expectantly, like it was foregone that he’d agree with her. He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure there are, but we can look into it later. We got time.” He told her, and she huffed at him. “I know a few, I can give you a list to check out when you have the time.” Tony told him then, avoiding his wife to look right at him instead. Brandy didn’t say anything, suddenly sour about the whole thing. Later that night, after they were finally home and with Ben crashed out in his bed with exhaustion, Trent savored the feeling of his wife running her blunt fingernails up and down the fur of his back. He had to savor moments like this, as they weren’t common or prolonged. But Brandy was in an especially good mood and feeling especially generous tonight. Lying on top of his wife, he continued to rock his hips against hers, the fingernails trailing up and down his back until he began to feel the sensation of an orgasm build up tight behind his balls. For all her tomboyish spirit, she lacked the sex drive that would have made her any match for a man. Like a stereotypical woman, she could go through lengthy dry spells without any complaint. It didn’t bother her to not have regular sex with her husband. It was just a thing her husband liked, and so she put out occasionally for his benefit. However, she was also predictable, and he knew when he was going to get laid before she even gave him a single hint. Their son had won his baseball game, so she was high on that adrenaline spike of victory. Any time she got a big mood booster she would pass him hints. That was her celebration, let her husband cum in her. That, and any time they were going to be away from each other for a few days or longer. He had that trip to Colorado coming up and would be gone for a few days to help close the acquisition of a new branch of his company. His bosses on the top floor wanted to gobble up a small competitor in another state and add them to the list of properties that dragged in revenue. He needed to be there as a specialist, it was his job to understand business development, to help manage the managing. He was a lot like Lumberg from Office Space, except he actually did the work. It was his job to make sure the organization had all its nuts and bolts with clear definitions of job responsibilities, feeling almost like he was a mayor of a town handing off the key to the city. His wife had a good eye for how close he was to finishing, so when she felt the moment was near, she reached down to grab him by the base of his tail. That always got a gasp out of him, especially with her grip. She was the one that helped the kids learn to play baseball, volunteering to be the resident mom that showed you how to properly hold the bat. When she made moves to make him roll over, he complied. Their bodies shifted, his cock slipped free of her naturally as they changed positions. She was straddling him by the time they finished the rotation. Her slender body was ivory white, the finest coat of fur you could ever see, now matted by a day of outdoor entertainment. She looked disheveled, but a beautiful flavor of it. Despite being a dalmatian, her black spots weren’t all over her body. She stood out for how spotty her back was, from her neck down to her tail. But apart from the spots on her back and legs, the rest of her was pure white, save the small handful of spots that managed to make their way to her front. Those spots were his favorites, because they reminded him of beauty marks he’d see on women of other breeds. She had a small spot under her left eye, and then another one on her right breast right beside her nipple. Another spot there, one over here, little beauty marks of black fur on an otherwise pure white coat when view from the front. It was like God had decided to make her look like Marlyn Monroe from the front, and only the front. He couldn’t think of a celebrity her backside reminded him of. He reached out and grabbed her breasts, exploiting the only time she’d let him grope her. She’d gone from being a slender woman with a modest bust, to being top heavy dame after her pregnancy. She used to be a medium-ish size, maybe C cups at the largest, but then they grew. As she let him grope her large breasts, she lifted herself up and grabbed his cock to slide him back into place. Most of the time they finished with her on top, she preferred it that way. She’d told him it felt better for her when she was on top, and that it didn’t matter where he was at because his dick was in her pussy. That was true, he was going to get off no matter the position, and now his wife was rocking her hips over his. Faster and faster she worked them, too, intending to pop his work so that she could go to bed. When he came, she’d already leaned her body down, putting her hands over his ears to massage them between her fingers. As his cock surged, rhythmically draining inside her, he was panting. She didn’t waste time after that, waiting only as long as it took for her to feel his climax fade to a dribble. She let go of his ears and rolled off him, her legs spreading to look down at her crotch as his cock slipped free of her. “Messy.” She muttered, irritated at what he’d done to her. He chuckled, not at the mess he’d made in her, but that she was still bothered by it after all these years. Now it was time to get some rest, and so she was going to slide out of bed to run to the bathroom to wipe herself up before coming back to sleep. Except, this time she didn’t. She closed her legs back then scooted down the bed until her head began to dip low to his crotch. His heart started beating faster when he realized she wasn’t done. When her lips touched his cock, he felt himself grow excited, very excited. His cock responded by going from half hard to full erection quickly, filling his wife’s mouth up as she began to give him a blow job. She wasn’t this affectionate very often, but when she was, that really got him going. It didn’t last long, only long enough for him to cum a second time into her waiting mouth, but it was nice. Whenever the mood struck her to go the extra mile, by her standards, then that meant he was in for a treat. It was nice, simple, but nice. Not everything had to be stellar and sensational, sometimes simple was all you needed. Brandy shifted, throwing one of her legs over his chest to straddle him while she sucked his dick clean. Their love making was never anything crazy, but Trent was happy he had a wife that wasn’t so cold that she turned off the lights for good once she got a kid out of him. He stared at her pussy as it dripped his cum over his chest. He blushed, then brought his face close to her crotch before giving her a kiss on the lips. “Oh! What’s gotten into you?” His wife asked, stopping what she was doing to turn and look at him. Still feeling his face burn a bit pink, he ignored her question and continued to clean her up just like she’d been doing for him. ---------- The doorbell rang, and Brandy hopped up from the couch and started towards the door. She was brushing her hands down the front of her shorts, a little pair of the gym variety that she often wore around the house. She stopped at the front door and peeked through the peephole to see who was out front, then twisted the deadbolt and opened the door to greet the new arrival. “Hey.” She said, coldly. She stepped aside, and let the visitor in. The great dane that entered was tall, a towering figure, standing with more than a foot of height over the dalmatian’s. In his hand was a child’s baseball mitt, and a hat. “Thanks for dropping them off, Ben thought he’d lost them.” She said next when the items were offered to her. “No problem. Is the Sport around?” The dane asked her. She shifted her weight to one leg, her posture oozing mild irritation. “No, and neither is my husband.” She told him flatly. “Uh huh.” He replied, taking a step further into the foyer before swinging the door shut behind him and pushing it closed with the back of his heel. She seemed to bristle at him, lifting Ben’s mitt and hat to grip them in both hands. She pivoted, then left the foyer and the dane behind, moving down the hall towards the living room. The kitchen was nestled right next to the living room, creating a large open space with a kitchen island in the middle, surrounded by countertops to one side, and a large sectional sofa on the other, flanked of course by cozy cushioned chairs. A nice arrangement for entertaining friends and family. The dane followed her, watching as she put the two items on the island. The kitchen was a small mess, as was the living room. Both needed a bit of tidying up. Neither mess stopped the dane from continuing his approach until he was standing behind her, reaching into his pocket. “Got you that list of summer camps to look at.” The dane told her, reaching around her from behind to put a folded sheet of notebook paper on the counter. “Thanks.” She replied, the dalmatian now distracting herself with the list. She snatched it off the counter and folded it open, looking at its contents. The dane meanwhile stepped closer to her, moving his hands up to touch her. The moment he put his hands on her shoulders she bristled at him. She slapped the list back down onto the counter, whirling around to eye him sharply, glaring at him angrily. “How much time do we have?” He asked her without so much as flinching, a gentle wag now set into his tail. Still bristling, she broke the gaze and stormed off through the kitchen. The dane followed her, tail still going, while she entered the living room. Without saying anything she reached the ottoman, a large broad piece of furniture set in front of the sectional couch, and stopped to pick up one of Ben’s discarded shirts. She tossed it from the ottoman and over into an empty chair, and then the dane was behind her again, his hands now gripping her by the waist. “You show up awfully quick the second you know he’s not around.” She told him with irritation. Instead of replying to her with words he reached under her arms and groped her chest. “Asshole!” She cursed; her hands snapped to his wrists as he took two big squeezes of her heavy chest, copping the biggest feels he could. As he kneaded her through her shirt, she thrust her hips back at him to knock him away, her hands futility tugging at his hands to break his grip. Both efforts failed, the dane being so much larger and stronger than her. Both of his hands were working her breasts like dough. With a strained growl she was then doubled over, the great dane bending down and physically forcing her to submit to him. She silently protested, struggling against him until he finally let go of her breasts. He shoved her chest flat to the ottoman, the wind leaving her lungs with an audible oof. “You’re such a prick!” She barked up at him, struggling to rise even as one hand firmly planted itself between her shoulder blades. “You text me to come over, and then you act like a bitch.” He finally replied, taking a free hand and slapping it across her ass. The clap of a hand on a cheek echoed in the room, her yelp following it right after. Her protests continued, followed by several vulgar epithets as he dropped to a squat behind her, his free hand reaching down to cop a feel of her ass while the other continue to pin her flat to the ottoman. “Zip it!” He growled at her then, the hand between her shoulder blades slipping free and up her back until it found the back of her neck. He took her by the scruff, gripped her hard, and she was sharply silenced. Her body still squirmed, her legs kicking out behind her as the hand on her ass slapped her again. She barked, then yelped, as a third slap landed. When he finally let go over her neck she remained put. The dane grabbed her shorts by the sides and yanked them down to her knees. “You give me so much shit and lip and you’re not even wearing any panties!” He was protesting at her now, delivering a fourth slap to her now bare ass. “You’re a piece of shit, Tony!” She shouted, and then the dane leaned himself over her exposed ass. He knocked his hips forward, connecting his with hers with a dull clap, the dalmatian now pinned her between the dane and the ottoman. She was trapped, stuck between them as the ottoman slid forward across the floor until it bumped into the sectional, all the man’s weight holding her put. “I said zip it, slut!” He barked back at her sharply, reaching up to find her muzzle. He snapped her mouth shut before she could cuss at him again, while his free hand snaked down to slip between their bodies. The dane wiggled his hips, loosening his jeans, until he began to work his pants down his thighs. She struggled against him, physically protesting his manhandling of her body until suddenly she froze. The dane shoved his hips forward and she let out a muffled yelp. His hand withdrew from between them and he planted it over her bare hip. When he let go of her muzzle she shouted. “You fucking mutt!” She glared at him from over her shoulder, drawing her arms under herself on the ottoman, pushing herself up onto her elbows as his second hand came to rest over her hip. “Yap yap, honey.” The dane mockingly replied and then bucked his hips. She shouted another slur at him, and he bucked into her harder. The dane was hunched over her back now, fingers digging into the sides of her hips while she bowed her head low to the ottoman, her muzzle buried into the cushion as the big dog behind her slammed himself inside her. With every noisy impact of their hips the ottoman inched forward, applying pressure to the sectional. One square piece of the couch began to inch along with the ottoman, breaking the unity of the couch until the back of it tapped the wall. The dalmatian clutched at the sides of the ottoman, barking and grunting as the dane used her like a toy. “Bastard!” She shouted, pushing herself back up onto her elbows. He hitched his hips hard, cramming himself right up against her petite dalmatian body, and she let out a strangled grunt. The dane was shifting gears, his grip on her sides like a twin pair of vice clamps, his knees spread wide behind her as his doubled up the speed of his thrusts. “Yeah, that’s it!” He grunted, voice almost a rasp as he panted over her. The sound of their bodies colliding was now a continuous wet slapping, an ugly noise pollution unfit for a household’s ears. The dalmatian clung to the ottoman, her back arched with ass backed up against the dane’s pummeling strokes. “Mutt!” She shouted, panting beneath him. The dane stopped, leaning his whole body against her. She was pressed flat to the ottoman while his hands roamed up her sides to grope at her tits again, sliding his hands under her chest to grab and lift her shirt up and over the swell of her breasts. He snapped the clasp of her bra with his teeth, and start pawing at her tits until her bra was loose and bunched up above her breasts. “Asshole.” She growled through clenched teeth as he continued to fondle her chest, his hips gently rocking into hers. His gentle rocking continued, slowly gaining speed as his hips began to resume a proper humping tempo. When he was satisfied with the feel of her chest, he pulled his hands away and planted them back onto her hips. When he started up again, the noise of their union was even louder, even wetter. He continued to fuck her, hunched over her back while his piston sank itself as deep as he could make it go. The dalmatian grunted through clenched teeth, occasionally letting a shout or a slur escape her lips as she let the dane cram himself up against her backside. When the dane start growling, digging his shoes against the floor like it was soil, she began to push herself back against him. Her ass was held high, her elbows dug into the cushion, the dalmatian holding her eyes shut. Her teeth were still clenched, her nostrils flaring as she rapidly sucked in air and blew it out again. The dane slammed hard against her, his hips clapping against her ass hard enough to make the dalmatian yelp. She straightened her arms, the strain of exertion visible in the now taut muscles of her arms. She fought to hold herself up on the ottoman, the big dane slamming himself into her again and again, the sectional couch knocking against the wall with a heavy rhythm. “Fuck!” She shouted, her body trembling under the dane as he continued to violently work his hips against hers. The tempo increased, the volume grew, the couch slapping against the wall so hard that the wall mounted décor was rattling. Finally, her body caved, the dane’s hips surged forward in a single rapid stroke that left the dalmatian screaming. She shouted, her entire body seizing up sharply before melting into a quivering mess of shuddering. Her arms gave out, the dalmatian collapsing down onto the ottoman as her body continued to writhe along with her howling. The dane stood up, legs straight, lifting her ass higher and higher until her feet were dangling over the floor. She was stuck to him, a knot firmly tied, and the dane was reduced to quick jabs of his hips. He came shortly thereafter, a quick snarl, holding her hips tight to his own as his own legs began to buckle from the pleasure of release. The dalmatian was breathing heavily, panting against the cushion as a dark damp spot slowly grew where her drool was collecting. The pair stayed that way for a while, until the strain on his legs became too much. He turned himself around, dragging the dalmatian with her, until he could sit down onto the ottoman with her resting in his lap. For the moment he seemed exhausted, but she was recovering. The dalmatian stared down her body, spreading her legs to offer up a view to herself, a view of her pussy split open by the girth of an enormous knot. The great dane had filled her up, a bulge resting in her stomach, the swell of his big dane knot stretching her lips so wide the pink flesh of her labia had turned white from the strain, the root of his dick nice and visible to her as it throbbed with every pulse of his ongoing release. She seemed mesmerized by the sight of herself being so thoroughly stuffed full of another man’s cock, the view of his heavy hanging nuts gently pulsing and twitching in sync with the rest of his orgasm. The dalmatian planted her hands on her knees and kept her legs spread, just staring down at where their bodies connected, visibly catching her breath. “Such an asshole, Tony.” She finally broke the silence between them. “Beats being a bitch.” He replied shortly after, leaning back and planting his hands on the sides of the ottoman for support. They pair went silent again, letting his orgasm continue to draw itself to a close until a narrow stream of white nectar began to dribble out from her pussy. It rolled down the underside of his knot and over the rise of his nuts before falling to the hardwood floor. “We going upstairs?” He asked once the puddle on the floor had grown to the size of a pancake. “Guest bedroom.” She replied. The dane sat up, and began to stand, drawing her up with him as his knot wasn’t going anywhere without a fight. ---------- Trent sipped at his beer. He always bought a six pack at the nearest convenience store whenever he left out on a trip. Something he could squeeze into his room’s mini fridge to avoid paying the absurd prices the hotels always charged. Lounging in the chair in the corner of the room, he had his feet kicked up onto the bed with his laptop resting in his lap. What was left of his Chinese delivery sat in a Styrofoam clamshell on the nightstand next to him. He reached for the touch pad and gave it a rub with his finger, moving the cursor over to one of the most recent files stored to the cloud. The free internet at this hotel was fast enough for Netflix, so when he double clicked the file icon, it opened quickly and began to play. As the video started, he was treated to the view of his wife entering the guest bedroom. Brandy was half-dressed and perched awkwardly on the hips of an equally underdressed great dane. Her feet weren’t even reaching the floor as the dane carried her into the room. She hadn’t wasted any time at all after he’d left for his trip, his Ring cameras capturing this footage not even a full 24 hours after he’d left for Colorado. The pair climbed onto the bed, and as they began to have another round of sex, he took another long sip of his beer. So far today, she’d given him three recordings he’d have to save to his laptop before deleting them off the cloud. The rest weren’t worth anything, as they were just the normal comings and goings of his household. He watched the video play out. The camera capturing his wife’s infidelity was tucked securely inside a decorative vase with a fake flower arrangement. It never needed water and his wife never went into that bedroom except to wash the bedding. He used to never understand why she wasted the effort on a room they never used. Then he installed the cameras. Trent had a clear view of the bed, and the great dane was again hunched over his wife to hammer his cock home. The coach’s stamina was as good as you’d expect it to be, a construction worker on weekdays and a homewrecker on the weekends. This continued for several long minutes until they changed positions, and then it continued. The evidence of the pair’s previous orgasm was leaking and oozing all over the bed now, ruining the bedspread with glossy dark stains. They eventually separated again, the pair sliding off the bed so she could get on her knees while the dane grabbed her by the face. Trent watched between sips of beer as the dane proceeded to fuck his wife’s muzzle. He watched for a bit, then paused the video. He lifted his laptop and sat it over on the bed so he could stand. He drained his beer and crushed it, tossing it into a waste bin as he stepped around the room to find the mini fridge. He took out a fresh beer and cracked the seal with a wet pop. He loved his wife, but he’d known about what she was doing behind his back for months now. He returned to his laptop and tapped the play button, taking a seat right as the dane started to fuck the dalmatian’s face as roughly as he had her pussy. The audio was muffled by the vase, but he could hear his wife gagging and gulping around the dane’s cock as she let him use her mouth like she would have any other hole. Hearing her gag like that sent shivers up his spine, shivers he hated that he enjoyed. She never made those noises when she was with him. As he sat and watched the video play out, he sulked. Brandy knew he’d installed Ring cameras at the front and back doors to the house, but he never asked her about the times he’d catch Tony coming over to visit. It was obvious something was happening behind Trent’s back. He’d see the great dane show up at their front door with a time stamp and then see him get welcomed inside by his wife, and then the recording would end. When the next recording showed Tony leaving, the timestamp would be an hour or two after the first. Sometimes even longer than that. That’s why he installed the other cameras in the house. Trent didn’t even need to be out of town, he just needed to be out for longer than it would take for a great dane to use another man’s wife. Sometimes Brandy would tell him that Tony had come by, maybe doing it out of guilt. There was always a reason for the visit, something that sounded sensible, usually something to do with their son’s little league team. His wife never pushed the issue, but the way she’d always put out a little more sex right before he’d leave on a trip, or when he’d come home after a long day at work with her suddenly insisting that they go out to a nice restaurant for a family dinner. The timing of her affection always lined up with the Ring cameras timestamps. He never said anything to her about Tony, he played dumb as the evidence of her cheating grew larger and larger on his hard drive, but she must have known that her husband was suspicious of her. He just couldn’t understand why. Brandy hated that asshole with a passion, and yet there she was letting him fuck her like a whore. That bastard’s cock was buried in her muzzle like it belonged there, doing things to the dalmatian that Brandy had never let her husband do to her. If it weren’t for him knowing how much she hated him, he would have already filed for divorce. He’d have let the dane have her all to himself while Trent filed for as close to full custody as the law would allow. But as it stood, he only felt envy. He only ever got to make love to wife, and only occasionally. He’d never been allowed to fuck the whore that was currently choking on a great dane’s dick. He’d never been allowed to test the limits of his and her own stamina, or to slap her across the ass, or make her cough up a load of cum while a trickle of dog cum drool out her nose. Watching Tony use his wife like a sex toy left him feel hot and cold, like the two temperatures were dancing back and forth across his skin, the cold making his fur rise on end while the heat left him with a tight feeling in his gut. He took another sip of his beer, watching now as the dane picked her off the floor before throwing her onto the bed. It was easy to sit there and pretend he had a cool head, especially compared to her hot temper. Even as he watched the dane press his cock right back into his wife, he tried to play it cool, to be the stoic husband that he was everywhere else in his relationship with Brandy. It was only when she reached up to grab Tony by the face, pulling him down so she could kiss that asshole on the lips, that he couldn’t pretend any longer. The hot and cold dance he felt across his skin came to an abrupt end, until all that was left was an even greater heat that settled over him like a blanket, a deep shuddering heat that broke him as his hands moved to unzip his pants. Brandy hated Tony, never missed a chance to bad mouth him, complained about his coaching, cussed at him in their home, called the dane slurs while he fucked her in the living room. It was only after the dane had fucked all the hate she had for him right out of her body that she’d finally put her lips to his. She’d love him after that, and keep loving him right up until he left, and then she’d go right back to hating him as the cameras filmed her cleaning up the mess they’d made together. The only reason Trent hadn’t divorced her. When she was alone and had no one to lie to, and there it was. She obviously hated him as one recording after another showed her tearing off bed sheets and comforters, or mopping the hardwood floors clean of their body fluids. And yet she just kept fucking him, just like she was now in the video with the dane snarling into her kiss, his body going rigid and tight. Trent watched as the dane emptied himself inside of his wife, the great dane holding Brandy down as she hit her climax. The two of them locked together and cumming while her husband watched them from a hotel room chair. There was another thirteen minutes left on this recording, of the pair doing only God knows what. Kissing as they waited out the tie, probably. After this one, the camera in the master bedroom had a forty two minute recording. Brandy sure had been busy today.