I used to let my dog lick me when I had my first boyfriend. I never considered it cheating, even though it clearly was. For three years. So many times I thought about, fantasized about rolling onto my hands and knees for my boy and letting him take me any way he wanted. But at the time, to me, that would have been cheating, would have been crossing an extreme line into a realm of tabooness I wasn't entirely comfortable with. I was still experimenting with zoophilia and learning who I was, what my sexual identity was. 16 years later and that identity has gone every direction but the one I expected it to. After much persistence I gave my virginity to that boyfriend only to find out weeks later he had been cheating. That was the catalyst. This entire time I could have been fucking around and exploring myself and my fantasies but chose to be a good girl and do what was expected of me. Duck that noise. Be yourself. As long as you're happy and no one gets hurt, do whatever the fuck you want. So we broke up. I dumped him. Yet still, somehow, was labeled a slut. If he had only known the extent of what he was setting free. 16 years later and over 30 dogs. I rebounded on that cheating piece of shit with my boy who I had driven wild, and been so patient, letting him lick me for 3 years. When I finally turned over for him, wiggled my ass and called his name for encouragement, let him mount my rear, grab my hips, and just go at it over and over and over for hours across an entire night. That is when that switch flipped for me.