She wasn’t going to peep on her own wife, of course. She just wanted to listen. Her own furnace was burning, after all, and there was nothing better to do. It’s not like there was anything she was missing on TV. But she could enjoy the sounds and imagine the familiar sight of Maddie leaning against the wall of the shower, water running down her body. Her brows furrowed just a bit, more like a look of concentration than anything. Her lip quivering, a hand tucked between her leg and her thighs squeezing together, her other hand on her breast.
Trish hadn’t quite managed to figure out her own alone-time in this new body. She had dainty paws, though, and as she laid there against the wall listening, she tried to curl over a bit. She was flexible as a dog and she didn’t have much of a problem sliding her hand down her fluffy front, but nothing was in the same place, really, and her limbs weren’t cooperating. Her nipples were in that deep silky fur somewhere, down her stomach, but she didn’t really bother to try and comb through it on her own with just her paws to find them. Besides, she had to bend a strange way just to—oh, she had to bite back a yip as her claws, then her pawpads brushed against something that made all the fur down her spine stand up. There it was.
Her pawpads were softer than her claws and she was trying to maintain some touch. She was just rubbing the outside, however. It was something, but she didn’t have enough flex in her digits for anything more. It was the first time she’d gotten to explore herself, or Lassie, like this. She’d been so distracted and shoving those thoughts down for the last few weeks.
It was clumsy going and she was just making herself more frustrated. Maddie seemed to be having a much better time in the shower. The only things keeping Trish from giving up were Maddie’s scent and her own scent. She thought about standing up and trying to rub herself against the doorjamb of the bedroom or the corner of the hallway, but that wouldn’t be able to give her very much, either. She wasn’t a dumb animal, but there wasn’t exactly a manual written on ‘how to get yourself off when you’re Lassie’.
Male dogs probably had it easy. They could rub that thing on anything. What a mess. Not that, in all honestly, Trish wouldn’t make a mess if she were presented the opportunity. Male dogs also were able to just lick—That’s it!
Why hadn’t she thought of that sooner? She was already almost there just to touch herself with her all-but-useless paw. She easily had enough range left to get her nose and her tongue there. After all, most canines could curl so tightly they could use their own tail as a pillow, right? She turned on her other side and went for it. Face-to-face with her own fur-covered rear end, claws digging into the carpet and one hind leg hiked, she managed to touch her nose to her muff and get a snout full of her own canine pheromones. It wasn’t that bad. It was comforting in the way one’s own smell usually was, which was probably another of the tiny ‘quality of life’ changes that were worked into her brain.
She kissed herself and, hesitantly, stuck her tongue out. Her own taste was… well. It was different from when she was human. It was different from Maddie’s taste, too. But that electric shake she got from the sensation, that’s what she was there for. Her tongue was a much better tool for this than her paw was.