This is a story about being a mom who thinks about getting face-fucked during dog walks, which is probably not what you're supposed to think about at Marymoor Park at 4:47pm on a Tuesday. But here's the thing about desire—it doesn't care about your Trader Joe's list or that you're wearing your husband's puffer vest because yours smells like applesauce. My fantasy stranger doesn't ask permission before using my throat like something he owns, and maybe that's the point. Maybe we all need to be ruined sometimes, thoroughly and without apology, then walk back to our Subarus with evidence drying on our faces while other dog owners pretend not to notice. The Labradoodle always knows. [F4M] [Rough oral] [Suburban ennui] [Public degradation] [Facial] [The kind of shame that feels like freedom]