Puppy Stays

He was on his haunches, the big Black man called "Puppy"—muscles bulging beneath that brown skin, his balls dangling, stiff prick jutting forward. A bead of precum dripped off of his purple cockhead and splashed on the newspaper. Lois Lane leaned forward, tongue extended...and the smell hit her open mouth.

It wasn't an unclean smell, but it was a distinct body odor. Lois Lane had smelled it before, interviewing a homeless man who subsisted mostly on dog food. The fatty, low-grade meat had given him a particular pet-store smell, and that was what filled the reporter now as her tongue slid under his sensitive glans, gathered up the salty pre-cum and washed over his piss-slit.

Puppy squatted effortlessly, brown eyes fixed on the naked bitch that now shared his cage. The slim white woman with the dog collar whose pink tongue licked all around his head, slipping behind the rubbery glans. Whose lips formed hot kisses on the cock as she slowly worked over every inch of the head, not even trying to put the thick erection in her mouth, just getting it wet and ready...

Ready for what, Lois didn't know. But she could feel how impossibly wet she was right now, the dampness trickling down her thighs, pussy quivering in anticipation.

Behind her, there was the click of a camera. The old Black woman cackled.

"Looks like this bitch is in heat, Puppy! Bitch like that, she just beggin' ta be bred...Black bred..."

Lois Lane paused in mid-slobber, her eyes wide with sudden fear. Swiftly she calculated where she was in her cycle. The reporter felt a bit of relief wash through her as she realized she probably couldn't get pregnant tonight, but...was the Black woman serious?

"Good Puppy," the Black woman said. "Good boy. Time for you to play with your new bitch."