Michelle grabbed and tugged the bunched panties from her crack. “Goddamnit, my asshole itches,” she said to no one, and continued flipping the channel on the kitchen television. In her other hand, a wooden spoon with an amalgam of flour and butter bounced up and down, splattering little bits of dough on the counter.

She generally watched television while she cooked, but for a Wednesday morning, there really wasn’t anything too terribly interesting on, so she just left it on the news and tossed the spoon into a pile of egg shells on the counter to tend to her itches. You see, her asshole had been burning all morning. Finally, she said “Goddamnit!” and stuck both hands down the back of her jeans. She used one hand to hold the cheeks separated and the other to vigorously scratch the asshole. “Ah, now that’s the stuff,” she said aloud again. The tense muscles around the anus had been sticky with semen and not showering since last night had apparently made an acidic paste throughout the area. Nevertheless, it felt good to scrape off the film that had congealed from her asshole to her vagina.

“If she were not able to sexually satisfy him tonight, he would beat her.”

Michelle went on scratching to no certain alleviation of her pain. It seemed as though it would never feel clean. Then, she heard the front door swing open; and she ripped her hands out of her pants and stuck them in the dough to begin kneading again. Appearing normal was the important thing, and nobody likes to be caught scratching their asshole.

“Hey honey,” her boyfriend said kissing the back of her neck, which was exposed via a ponytail, “something smells great!”

“Oh! I’m baking cornbread for tonight,” she said, smiling to herself. She had intentionally stressed the “corn” in “cornbread” to make a little joke for her own benefit. “Why are you home so early?”

“I decided to cancel class today. It’s too nice out and nobody wanted to sit inside.”

“You keep that up and the dean’s going to fire you.”

“How can he? I’m the most popular TA on campus!”

Michelle turned around to face her boyfriend. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”

“Yep. Well it looks like you’re busy,” he said in his flippant way, grabbing the newspaper off the top of a bowl of overripe bananas. “I’m going to go grab a beer, maybe hit a few balls.”

“Alright, stay out of trouble, Sugar.”

“You know me,” her boyfriend said and left the house.

Looking in the dough, the young wife decided that she had a good bit of time to clean up before dinner had to be ready, so she decided to wash off her hands and call the dog. Michelle stepped to the sink and turned the knob for the faucet. The water didn’t work.

“Shit,” she said, but realized shortly that this was a problem that could be easily solved. She called, “Charlie! Charlie!” then puckered her lips and made a few fast kissing sounds.

A big German Shepard darted in the room, slipping as it turned the corner around the kitchen’s big tile island. It pounced on Michelle. Her asshole still itched terribly.

“Come on Charlie, I’ve got something for you.”

She offered her hands to the dog, who happily cleaned off the bits of egg and asshole from her fingers. Then the thought came to her: she wouldn’t be able to properly clean off her asshole before her boyfriend returned, drunk and horny. This was a real problem; if she were not able to sexually satisfy him tonight, he would beat her (as he had read somewhere on the internet that this was the justification for beating). Michelle knew that she wouldn’t be able to sexually please her boyfriend if she didn’t feel clean. And of course, she couldn’t feel clean with the gummy substance all up in her business.

So, pulling down her pants, Michelle bent over and presented herself to Charlie. The dog immediately recoiled. Imagine never seeing a human asshole in ten years of living and then having one stuck in your face. Not a very fun circumstance, indeed!

Well, as fate would have it, a little jar of strawberry preserves had been open near the bowl of corn bread batter. Strawberry preserves would have to lure the dog to clean off her naughty parts! So, Michelle stuck two fingers in the jam, which made an oddly sexual sound (like fisting a jar of mayonnaise or poking a cadaver with a dildo), and she proceeded to smother her vagina and asshole with jam.

This apparently made it a bit more pleasant smelling, as Charlie snuck suspiciously up to her crotch; however, the dog still wouldn’t lick. Was he too smart? Was he not hungry? Michelle’s anger increased and because her incensed pleas for a thorough tonguing became too intense, the dog scampered out the door into the yard to ironically chase a few squirrels.

With jeans down to her knees, Michelle had only one more trick up her sleeve. It was a last ditch effort. An act of desperation, which she knew had a slim chance of success. However, as her grandfather once said: desperate times call for desperate measures. So, Michelle hopped to the telephone and dialed the number of an old college friend: Nick Gaudio.

Nick answered, “Hello?”

Michelle sighed, “Nick?”

“Yep, that’s me.”

“It’s Michelle,” she said. “It’s happened again.”

Nick smacked his lips and said, “I’ll be right over.” The only other sound: the clashing of Nick’s phone on his receiver.

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