And the dog made three

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The dog started it, really.

Tracy Turner was sunbathing beside the swimming pool at the back of the house. The girl was young, but already very nubile and sexy, with the sort of body that had caused nearly all of the boys at school to frantically jack off while pretending that their fists were Tracy's hot cunt or sensual mouth. Gallons of cum had been spilled over fantasies of her – and Tracy would have been delighted had she known how many hand-jobs she had inspired, because she was a naughty little girl who aspired to be naughtier.

She had a heavy mane of dark, curly hair, almost black but shot through with reddish highlights, glinting copper, bronze, rust as the sun fell over her. Her eyes, closed now, were mahogany brown, heavily lidded and lashed. Her cheekbones were high and rather exotic, with a speckling of freckles just a shade darker than her suntanned skin. Her mouth was wide and full and sensual – the sort of mouth that automatically made a young man think of blow-jobs.

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