Samantha
Kong was a c*ck blocker. We had put him on a dog bed on the floor at the end of our bed. Every time Dashawn and I started kissing and getting frisky, Kong would whine and pop his head above the bed. Dashawn said he couldn’t concentrate because he could feel Kong judging him. I burst into laughter. So we put him in the walk-in closet. Kong whined and scratched at the door. I couldn’t stop giggling. We relented and Kong slept with us, right in the middle. Dashawn was not a happy camper.
I had just walked out of the bedroom the next morning and was walking down the hall when I heard Dashawn talking.
“Look, we have to come to some kind of compromise. You let me get between her thighs for a couple of hours every night, and I’ll cook you a steak every Friday when we get to t
