Heaven must be missing an angel, because she's here with me humping my boot. She's pressing her face into my thigh, weaving her...

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Heaven must be missing an angel, because she’s here with me humping my boot. She’s pressing her face into my thigh, weaving her little fingers into the material of my pants. Holding on for dear life. Whining, begging with her big wet doe eyes. Gazing up at me in such complete and utter adoration, the likeness borders on that I have only seen in the most pious of church dogs.