fucking my dog: Chronicles of Courage, Love, and Discovery

“fucking my dog” turns sunrise yoga into pure eroticism. Downward dog shows the outline of her pussy through thin leggings; when she rolls onto her back for happy baby pose in “fucking my dog,” the fabric is visibly soaked. She doesn’t bother hiding it. Fingers slip beneath the waistband, rubbing slow circles while holding the stretch. The flexibility in “fucking my dog” is obscene—legs behind her head now, completely open, fingers pumping hard and fast until she comes with a muffled scream into her own thigh, body trembling in the perfect bridge position.