Tired as we were, Tuesday morning came a lot sooner than either of us might have hoped - and it felt like a *very* early start in the morning! But even the bitterness of 7am is softened and sweetened when you wake still held within your Man's arms - and your first act of the day is to nuzzle and lick and guzzle and swallow: a puppy alarm-clock raising both Your Man and His meat from their slumber... :)
A quick breakfast - literally on the hop whilst Man and hound blearily struggled into their bike gear - then out on the road by 8:30, weaving through the commuter traffic around Bristol and then opening up down the M4: the dog sat as close as it could behind Him, arms tight around His waist and trying not to shout 'WHEEEEE!' all the way. Seeing our reflection in the windows of the cars that we passed: my Handler so tall and upright in the saddle - His dog looking so small behind Him, but feeling proud all the same in my big boots and leathers. Laughing and chatting through the intercom - cussing at 4x4's who hogged the middle lane, glowering at nobs doing 90 whilst on their mobiles, waving at bored kids and coach-loads of tourists - barking excitedly every time i saw another biker in the hope we'd play 'chase' for a bit.
Off the motorway at Newbury and onto the A34, M3 and M275 - down to Handler's old stamping ground around Portsmouth and Worthing...
Finding a perfect lay by between Arundel and Littlehampton: a quiet 'A' road through thick woods - and a Man with a bladder full of piss for His dog... Grinning up at Him as i sank to my knees, the bike and the road just in sight through the trees - getting hard from the smell of Him warm from His leathers and the sweat of the ride - taking Him gently in my mouth as i've been taught - feeling His hand stroke my head as He relaxed and let the thirsty dog gulp down every drop. Letting Him slide deeper into my throat - lubricated by His own piss - fluttering my throat as i swallowed, feeling Him groan at the feeling of being enfolded in pulsing muscle - easing Him back out so i could tease Him to hardness with my tongue: wrapping it under Him to wriggle and tease at His piss-slit, following the curve around the back of His glans where i know it is at it's most sensitive - rewarded by His growl and gasps of pleasure, and the way He held my head still and started to slowly grind down again into my willing throat...
Giving Him the best head He's had, there by the road - both in our leathers, creaking and sweating - hearing the cars speeding past just feet from us (Handler telling me later that He'd seen one cyclist almost fall off his bike when he realised what he was seeing... :D ) - blissfully oblivious to all but making Him happy.
Then back on the bike - down into Worthing to drop the dog off on the sea-front whilst He went to visit family. Strolling through the streets in my full leathers and feeling a 'proper biker' - proudly wearing my collar and flashing my 'bootbrush' T shirt. Having a wonderfully relaxed lunch at the Dome Cafe-bar: sat on their terrace overlooking the sea and watching the world go by - then a stroll down the pier and a nap in the sun with the old-folk, buying some rock and fudge for my partner, then waiting patiently by the Lido: seeing heads turn at the purr of my Man's silver steed - the glorious sight of Him riding down through the crowds to come pick me up again: the sun glinting off both the bike and His glossy black leathers.
A long leisurely ride along the coast to Poole - past the beautiful Arundel and the terrible Chichester bypass - starting to pick up more bikes as we went: all of us heading to the honey-pot of the Poole Bike Night.
The whole Quay at Poole is closed off on Tuesday nights in summer - and access restricted only to bikes and bikers (who come down in their thousands to cruise and stoll, admiring each other's bikes and enjoy the fine weather). There were so many shiney machines, so many sexy guys obliviously perverse in their leathers (thank god for good weather!) - and it was a real joy to ride along slowly seeing all the appreciative looks my Man's new machine got.
We parked up and strolled along too - the dogs heart thumping at the endless roar and rumble, the smell of leather and chrome... Queuing for chips - watching the guys whilst we waited for our order (and the serving girls snickering when my Man stood with His dog in His arms...). Sitting on the wall to eye the bikes and the men - seeing the double-takes of passers by when they spotted my collar, flashing them big friendly disarming smiles - perfectly happy to be who and what i am, regardless of what they may think in their ignorance.
Seeing one bunch of guys - tanked up from the footie and down to laugh at the bikers - nearly falling over when they spotted us; milling about on the other side of the road, giggling like girls and trying to sneak a photo of the 'gay-boy and his dog' - too nervous and rude to simply ask, so snapping a frantic photo and then running away sniggering. My Handler frightening the life out of them by quietly following them down the quay as they texted the pics to their mates - then leaning over their shoulders to growl "So, are you going to send me a copy of that too...?". One guy brave enough to reply: "Only if you will let me wear that collar..." - and me quipping back "You'd be welcome to share my leash, but you might not like were it could lead..."
Weaving through the packs on our way out of Poole - then taking the long scenic route home via Shaftsbury and Warminster: such beautiful roads through the most perfect of English countryside, through beautiful Dorset villages and across the top of the downs - the sun long and low, the bike weaving and humming beneath me, the feel of my Handler's hand as it stroked my thigh or layed over my own gloved hands where they held Him tight...
Hugging Him so close i could feel His chest expand with every breath - resting my helmeted head against the back of His shoulder and sighing my doggish love for Him through the com - hearing the equal pleasure and emotion in His voice when He says he loves His dog too - and that He can't express the pleasure He has in it's company: piss-pup, fuck dog, pillion or friend.
Taking a pit-stop in Bath - finding a perfect little Italian Ice-cream and Crepe parlour for a warm-up and a fortifying tea - the nice guy staying open beyond 9pm to make us 2 *huge* crepes and piling them high with bananas and caramel and berries and ice cream...!! Handler stretching the dog's cramped legs with a short stroll around the town (which i've never been to before): taking in the baths, the Cathedral and Wier - and just catching the tail end of the 'Comedy walk' tour.
Then it was one last zoom home through the gathering night - the sun finally down and the moon coming up - the dog saddle-sore and tired, and trying to stifle a yawn... Even so, the Bristol junction seemed to come up far too soon - and i was quite a sad little pup when we finally pulled into the garage and Sir told the dog to finally hop off... But - it was already heading for midnight, and we'd been on the road for hours (Sir checked the clock and we'd done 350 miles - plus the 50 between the dog's place and Him), and even though i was sad that the ride was coming to an end i really couldn't find it in me to be genuinely unhappy - not after such a *perfect* day...!
Really, it doesn't take much to make a dog happy when you think about it, Sir: some good company, a strong pair of arms, a couple of wheels, a few chips and the occasional crepe or scone - accompanied by the odd 'good dog' words of encouragement - and maybe a few mil of high protein supplement from Your own personal applicator, washed down by a few pints of piss... ;)
THANK YOU Sir for making me Your pup!