Thursday, November 19, 2009

Thoughts on a windswept weekend...

Blimey - what a wet and windy weekend it was in London for the Lord Mayor's show (photo's in the Nov 16th blog-post)...

It was a shame about the weather being so bad - Handler felt it was too gusty and dangerous to take the bike, so we had to drive down - M4, bad weather, Friday night - not the best idea perhaps: it took nearly 5 hours to get there, and the dog felt *genuinely* guilty at it's Man having to do so much driving, at the end of a busy shift...! :(

Still - the dog *loved* the parade on Saturday - despite the gales and rain: standing in the rain in it's damp leathers, protected from the worst of the gales by it's Man's strong warm body at it's back - both of us bobbing and foot stomping to the marching bands (and the dog eyeing up all those shining riding boots and stern-faced mounted Huzzars...!); the RAF guys in their branded leathers where kinda sexy too...!

Then heading for a pizza to warm up - Handler giving the dog a playful cuff when He caught it all puppy-eyed and gazing at Him with devotion across the restaurant table (and greedily watching Him down another pint of lemonade...)

Shame that they cancelled the fireworks - but it was fun donning my 'Art Librarian' hat and dragging my Handler around Tate Modern instead... The deep, womb-like Unilever installation by Miroslaw Balka was an interesting experience - especially standing at the end in the velvet dark-room blackness, wrapped in my Handler's warming arms, watching with dark-adapted eyes whilst the plebs shuffled and squeeled and blindly bumped into each other...


And then all those *other* moments - with my Man as His devoted rubber-dog and faithful k9 companion...

Shamelessly singing and howling along to Abba on the car stereo, whilst Handler shook His head in disbelief... Snuggled up warm under the duvet after the parade - not wanting to be a tease, but also somehow unable to fight it's natural desire to wriggle and squirm and grind it's hole back onto it's Man - despite the relentless 'trouble' that always seemed to result... Dozing and waking to find myself still wrapped safe in His sleeping arms, with His meat still burried deep in my pup-hole... Sat astride Him on the bed, rubbered and sweat-slick after the club, muzzle burried and wuffing into His pits as it helplessly humped it's dog-cock into His belly and smeared it's dog-spunk into His pelt... Stopping at the nighttime Service Station, climbing out of the car to quietly kneel in the dark whilst He emptied His lemon-tanged piss into my waiting throat...
'Transforming' in the hatch-back boot of the car on our way to the Hoist on the Saturday night: climbing in as a man at one end, and trotting out as a fully-formed rubber-dog at the other...

WUUFF!! it was amazing to be able to experience arriving at the Hoist as a proper rubberdog like that - i even got to pad along the pavement and into the club on all fours, fully muzzled and collared and tailed so that everyone from doorman to waiting members saw and reacted to me as nothing more than my Handler's pet dog for the whole night... it felt mean to wait whilst He went to park the car, but amazing to see how everyone quietly left me were my Handler had collared me and told me to "STAY!" - each new guy just giving the odd passing pat on my hooded head, or a 'sweet puppy!' comment...

Sir, Your dog is pleased and proud that You had so many compliments: it always feels so good to be so naturally and simply Your obedient dog that Men comment on our 'Man-and-dog bond' like that - it lets me know that i am doing You proud, and being simply myself, Your dog - as i should be...

And as for the greedy, envious (and sometimes disaproving) looks that we got when the dog quietly knelt and took Your piss, and then deep-throated You without comment or complaint - just Your hand gently letting it know how long and how deep it should go... or the guy who was fascinated watching the dog as it spent hours of quietly focused mouthing and licking, keeping it's Master happy and hard - but who was then so incredulous that it could do so and not 'be drugged out of it's brain!' (i ask - what dog needs chemical stimulants when it has it's Man and His scent and taste?!?). Well - those looks and comments were equally as pleasant to the dog, and made it feel Proud to be able to demonstrate it's training and devotion...

So - thank You for another wonderful weekend Sir - for giving us *both* time away from the humdrum and stress of work and our mortgaged-lives... Thank You for proudly displaying Your dog to Your friends - and for letting the dog wear Your collar for all to see.

Thank You, Sir, for telling the dog that You genuinely enjoy it's company - whether as simply a fuck-toy, Your rubber-dog, or faithfully friendly companion. You make me feel better than anything else in my life right now - and for that i am, and always will be:

YOUR dog - bootbrush

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