It was always the same except for those truly bad times when Maggie came home different, sad. On those days, if she had long ears and a tail, they wou...d be drooped low and the eyes would be sad still. Maggie looked tired when the door opened but then she saw and she changed. Maggie’s good. He endured the squeezing of his neck. Anyone else and he might growl defensively. Even that thing she does with her lips on his snout. What is that? But it’s something she likes, something he thinks she does. "Pretty good. I’m going to arrange Teri, to pose her and I want you to paint her in a way that tells me, your viewer, something either about her or about your impression of her. Can you do that?” The group murmured a response which was not positive but more like a "we’ll have a bash at it" sort of reply. Isobel arranged Teri so that her right breast, the one furthest from us, was exposed, the left covered in the thin material of her dress. Teri’s right arm was extended to point, her left. Marla went to her booth and got some leg shackles, that would fit a pony. They met Heather at her kennels in the darkness of the fair tent. The dog bitch that fancied Bruce again presented her backside for his inspection. He did not hesitate and got down to his knees behind her and held her hips firmly massaging them and her back legs to relax her. He dropped his trousers and his dick rose to the occasion. They were all in a wild mood and Carla urged her husband on. Heather told him to angle. Her tongue was thick in her mouth. She mumbled: “I’m close…UNH…Oh God it’s good! He’s good. He’s so naughty and hot and his…tongue...licking...my...[gasp]...cunt!....…OH! OH!” I smoothed her cheek and whispered in her ear: “He’s fucking you with his tongue.“ Sherry smiled. “It’s so strange and good,“ then with inaudible grunts, she stiffened and held and convulsed and came, grabbing both our hands, flexed and came again, holding herself, then releasing with more grunts, her body.