Her tongue was a much better tool for this than her paw was.
So good of a tool, she didn’t hear the shower stop or Maddie step out. She didn’t realize her wife was done with the shower, until the door opened and Maddie caught her red handed and hairy-tongued.
“Oh.” Maddie paused. She was naked in the doorway. Trish was curled over on the floor with her own head between her legs, frozen, tongue still out mid-lick along her dog muff.
Trish’s ears drooped back and she slowly uncurled. Maddie had to bite her cheek to keep from grinning at the utterly ridiculous sad puppy look Trish was giving her. It was the same look she’d get from a dog when they knocked over the trash can or shredded the couch cushions and knew they were wrong, but were so lost in the moment they went wild anyway. On Trish’s part, that’s exactly how she felt.
“You started without me?” Maddie said. She put her hands on her hips.
Trish balked. “What?”
“If you’ve been such a horny bitch why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t want to be the one to bring it up! I didn’t want to pressure you or anything!” Trish whined.
“Well I didn’t want to bring it up to you and make it seem like I was a weirdo who wanted to tonguefuck a dog!” was Maddie’s riposte.
"Ugh!” Trish bounced up to her paws and barked. “Fuck me!”
Maddie lead them to the bedroom. It wasn’t far, it was literally right there. Trish jumped up on the bed and Maddie grabbed her and rolled her onto her back and crawled over her. They kissed again, and this time Trish pushed the tip of her flat, wide, hot tongue into Maddie’s mouth first. Maddie’s breasts rested on either side of Trish’s narrow, deep canine chest and Maddie was big enough that even doubled over like this, her knees were behind Trish’s legs.
Trish hooked her forelegs over her wife’s much wider shoulders. They stopped to catch their breath, and Trish looked up at Maddie. Her wife’s hair was still wet. Her skin was warm to the touch and she smelled like strawberries.
Maddie rolled off Trish and onto her side in the bed. She hooked her arm around Trish’s thick, fluffy neck and pulled her close, nose to nose, and her other hand started combing through those trusses of silky, envy-inspiring fur.
“How long are you going to be Lassie?” she asked her wife.
“Probably… Erf, months? A year? Until the reshoots and whatever publicity are done. If they don’t want to renew for a sequel.” Trish had tried not to think about it too much. She tried to live in the moment. Everything was much easier than she’d read on the internet. Especially since she and her wife were solving the intimacy issue in real time like this.