She had wavy auburn hair, dark eyes and skin as smooth as as marble. Every man in the bar had his eyes on her and
he couldn’t believe how easily he’d gotten her to come back with him to his bedroom. He hoped she didn’t notice that his fingers were shaking ever so slightly as he unbuttoned her blouse. She reached behind her and let her bra slide to the floor.

She oozed out of her tight jeans and quickly stepped out of her black thong. Then she pushed him back on the bed, unbuckled his belt and whispered for him to close his eyes.

She tugged on his zipper, nuzzled his ear and softly kissed his face. She was all over him.

Soon her kisses got wet. A kid’s rhymn came to him: “Say it, don’t spray it.”

She kept kissing and licking his face, his eyes—even his nose. What the hell was she doing?

He finally opened his eyes, shook himself awake and saw that his Pug Goblin was only inches from his face. The dog’s wet tongue was still protruding from his dark mouth.