Friday, August 19, 2011

Is rubber 'gay'...?



If you've not read it yet, there's an interesting new post from Rubber Canuck discussing a thread on Fetlife: where a straight male fetishist commentated that when he wore rubber everyone assumed he was gay. ('Rubber = gay?').

In the thread that ensued, several people continued the guy's assumption: stating that whilst you often see media and online representations of women in rubber, you rarely see men - and those that you do see are almost always gay (e.g. Matt Lucas' 'Only gay in the village' and the very sexy Jake Shears). For most 'normals' this means that the only male fetish they regularly see is through news coverage of Pride events or the windows of gay fetish shops. So in the public mind, 'male rubber' *does* equal 'gay'.

Several people also made the connection between rubber's way of sexualising of the body, and the subsequent implied sexual submission of its wearer; such sexualised submissiveness is anathema to most straight men, and so any straight male rubber fetishism is kept very private: "For straight men, any perception of their masculinity being soiled by submissiveness is a BIG no-no."

The thread raised some interesting thoughts.


My own experience is mostly the same as speedoguru's: there does seem to be a much higher incidence of women in latex rather than men - at least online, and certainly in porn (there's only 4 or 5 male rubber titles that i can think of - and almost all of those are gay anyway). i've also noticed that at mixed fetish events, markets etc, it is predominantly the women and the gay men who ever dress in rubber. In fact, it is almost always only the women and the gay men who dress in fetish gear at all (my Handler has often commented on how sad and odd it is to see these spectacularly dressed het women in basques and corsets, heels and make-up - and then notice their shuffling male partners, wearing the same old shabby 'street' clothes they might go to the pub in...).


So why is this?

i think several of the commentators got it right about rubber being seen as a predominantly sexual and submissive material. For the wearer, being dressed in rubber is an incredibly sensual experience: as it amplifies any sensation of touch, warmth or movement; for the viewer the visual tighness of rubber and the way its glossy, water-like texture clings to the body is extremely revealing and deeply sexualising. On a subconsious level there is also the connection between rubber and 'protection' / 'containment': from the squeeky rubber undersheets of childhood to the slinky tightness of first condom they wanked into. It's also possible that all that tight wet-looking skin might subconsiouly suggest the wet inner folds of aroused flesh, and the spit-wet smooth skin of their own hard-on....

Encasing a body in rubber simply turns the wearer into a sexual object ready for play.

In our judeo-christian culture, women have always been seen as sexual objects (even when they are dominant), so seem to have fewer problems with the idea of dressing-for-sex; likewise gay men. Both are also much more ready to explore the reinvention of the Self through dressing up, and to be prepared to let go of themselves in the 'let's pretend' of fantasy. This is particualarly so for gay men perhaps: because we have undergone a process of coming out and self-reinvention; we already understand that all identity is fluid, and every persona an invention - we are therefore more ready to empower ourselves by dressing as, and therefore *becoming*, the archetypes we desire.

For both women and gay men, there is also the long established practice of dressing up to attract a mate - and of wearing your sexual desire and availability openly...

But by the same token, straight men are the alpha male: they need to assert their masculinity, and for them, that means dominance. Up until very recently, a man would barely consider putting on aftershave before going 'out on the pull', never mind dressing up in best bib-and-tucker just to get a girl into bed. There is a cultural discomfort to the idea of the peacock male strutting his sexual availabilty - as if this somehow makes him less of a man because it admits that every women will not automatically fall at his feet when he enters a room.

Given this, is it surprising that most straight men are deeply nervous of embracing the sexualising objectification of rubber - or that if they are, then they want to keep it private?

-o-o-


There was one more really interesting point that i wanted to comment on: as to 'why so many gay men might be fetishists in the first place?' to which speedoguru made the interesting observation that: "in our formative years a lot of us had to project our sexual urges onto objects rather than people because we couldn't be honest and open about who we really are/were"

i think that's a really interesting observation.

i certainly know that i channeled my own early sexual urges into objects and gear - and that probably was because i felt an inbuilt shame and inherent perversity in those urges which i did not feel able to share with other people.

i knew that it was 'not normal' to feel excited when i saw my mustached PE teacher in his tight shorts (thick chest hair poking over the top of his bulging T shirt), or to feel 'funny' when watching Magnum PI; i also knew there was something 'wrong' in the way i would guiltily watch in fascination as my brother and his buddies pumped their bodies lifting weights in nothing more than a tight pair of nylon shorts - or sneaked into his wardrobe to stroke and smell his bike leathers and waterproofs...

i also used to sometimes slip into my brother's bike gear - and then stand in front of the mirror and imagine that i was him: big and strong and masculine (and no longer the wimpy, bookish 'mummy's boy' my Dad called me). i guess that extended into imagining myself wearing the same gear as the other Masculine Men whom i idolised: fighter pilots, astronauts, scuba-divers, bike-racers - seeing myself dressed like them, and somehow therefore also become like them too: brave, strong, masculine... Except - dressing and imagining like that made me feel 'funny' too...

Most all though: being a good Catholic lad, i knew that it was very bad that i sometimes woke up all sticky and wet from dreams where big muscular men dressed me up in their gear and then played strangely physical games with me...

As i got older, i realised that these 'funny' feelings were sexual - and slowly realised that these Men that i fantasised about where all 'normal'. i 'knew' that these MEN would treat me with disdain - and that they would be likely to react angrily if they ever discovered my queer fantasies concerning them.

At times, i even imagined that they might punish me in some way: tying me down to beat the perversity out of me - or forcing me serve them as they tried to 'butch me up'. Occassionally i imagined that they might make me eat Their cum so that their extra testosterone would make me more manly - or that they would try to forcefully milk out the gayness from me. A few times i even imagined that they would prove their dominance by using me as their sexual play thing...

Interestingly, such imagined Alpha Male Dominance only seemed to make me feel even more 'funny' - and therefore guilty...

i am sure that such early fantasies fed my submissive tendencies - and so i guess it really was a dead-cert on me turning into the perverted little puppy that i am today ;)



Andendum:

My Handler just emailed to say 'What a nice insight into where my dog has **cum** from!'

i had to reply that i was only sorry that i didn't go on to write about how i later grew up and realised that not only were there *lots* of Men who liked short-arsed submissive guys, but that being a happy well-adjusted pervert is much more fun than being a guilt-ridden, self-hating misery.

Or how He has taught me that rather than 'punishing' you, it is a great deal  more pleasant for you both if your Dominant Alpha Male *rewards* you with His cum and His cock for being such a perverted little randy fuck-pup :D

WUUUFF!!  i *love* my Man!! :))

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Boot-black fuck-pup


i am an eager and excited pup: responding to a text from my Man, telling me to come down and distract Him for a few days. He tells me to bring rubber and biking gear. i am so horny and excited driving down that i have to stop at the services to ease the pressure on my cock: hard from both the plug filling my hole and the tight slickness of the rubber sliding across its sensitive head. i grin as i post up a new blog status of being 'rubber encased and plugged...'

i arrive and He gathers me into a great big hug - carries me around, laughing, with my arms wrapped around His neck and my legs around His waist; then He puts me down and has me kneel whilst He locks on my collar. He gives my smooth and glossy body an appreciative stroke as i strip off my jeans and T shirt - revealing the perversity beneath (and the tightly controlled bulge of my dripping hard-on).

He tells me that we are going out to do some work in the garden, and so i pull on my tall Century waders whilst He dresses in a tight olive-green flight-suit and His own waders and tool belt. He laughs when i drool over a pair of elbow-length industrial rubber gloves - and again at my look when He lets me pull them on to work in. The sun is warm on my glossy rubber skin as i follow Him down into the orchard to tidy up after the work He has done earlier in the week - it is nicely physical work, and the sweat is soon seeping down within the rubber, slicking my skin and making it slide in distracting yet intensely pleasurable ways. It is equally pleasurable watching my Man work beside me - and the way the flight suit stretches across His muscles...

We finish the job and tidy up, then Sir leads me for a chatting stroll around the lawns and orchard - picking fruit as we walk so that i can taste the different varieties fresh from the trees. His garden is such a huge space (just over an acre), and there is so much room for a pup to romp and play in! But we finally find a nice spot in the shade of a huge Mulberry tree - and He slowly opens the zip of His suit to let the pup nuzzle and lick His beautiful cock - and to do its trademark best to turn Him on. As i lick and growl, i look up to see His face, silhouetted against bright blue skies and scudding clouds - and the sun shining bright and golden in His chest hair.

He leads me over to the Picnic bench - has me hop up and lie back so that my head hangs backwards over the edge, wadered legs up and the tight curve of my rubbered crotch exposed; careful of the dog's jaw He lets me work His meat down into my throat, whilst He encourages me in my work by pushing down on my tightly restrained cock - He growls as He feels me helplessly thrust my hips, driving my aching cock up against His palm...

He lets me up of the bench and leads me over to kneel before Him under the plum tree itself - my booted knees spread and my eager muzzle tipped towards Him. He plants His own boots wide and reaches up to hold onto an overhead branch - His arm-pits and chest are beaded with sweat as He orders the dog to use only its mouth and tongue to gently bring Him to a trembling orgasm.

He gives me the ultimate reward for my devotion: He has me lie face down beneath Him so that i can feel the power in His cleated soles as He grinds them down against my rubbered back and arse. He has me brace up into a plank so that He can slip a booted toe beneath my crotch - then growls encouragement as He watches my smooth glossy black rubber arse clench and bob as i greedily grind my cock through the rubber and into the textured toe-cap - growling and whining as i come close to cumming. But before i can cum, He raises me up - sits back onto the bench so that i can sit stride His toe and hump my straining cock and aching balls hard against His booted leg: driving myself to a barking climax with my nose buried in the heady aroma of His waders...

-o-o-


We have a quick supper, and then Sir has to head out for a while (He's a member of an LGBT choir, and tonight is one of their rehearsals) - but He doesn't want His pup to get bored, and so He lines up His boots and leaves me instructions (permission!) to clean them for Him whilst He is gone.

i've always loved cleaning boots - even before i realised it was part of my perversity. My Grandfather was a traditional cobbler, so maybe its in the genes...! There is a beautiful Zen in the process of applying the polish to scuffed leather - watching the swirls as you gently massage it in deeply to the grain - then the amazing way that the leather comes alive as you polish it back up to a wonderful deep glow... That sensual pleasure is all the greater when it is completed with love and surrender: knowing that in caring for His boots, i am caring for my Master - showing them the devotion that i show Him - working hard to make them as beautiful and spotless as i can.


it takes me two hours to clean all 6 pairs that He left - and i love every minute of it. i am just finishing the beautiful 32" monsters that are His Wesco Big Boss boots when the garage doors opens and He rides the bike in - laughing to find His pup smut-covered and grinning with pleasure.

i blush and grin with pride at His praise for having done such a good job - and happily pose for a photo amongst the lined up, shining boots: feeling like one of Tom of Finland's boot-pervert men.



It's been a busy but fulfilling day - and i am still tightly encased in my glistening rubber suit: cooling sweat and my own cum slick against my skin; Sir says that i smell like a true pervert - and i grin proudly.

But He also says that it's time to get the pup calmed down and ready for bed, so He takes us out to the Hot tub to soak off my rubber, then lets me relax back against His chest in the warm bubbling water whilst He gently teases my sensitive nipples and reminds me that they - and me - are His.

It is a beautiful warm evening and we soak for a good hour: watching the stars shine and the moon rise through the trees until we are sleepy enough to finally retire...

-o-o-
Early morning, and i wake to my Masters arms tight and warm around me. It is such a wonderful feeling to be held so tight and secure: feeling His control and His protection and knowing that nothing can harm me. i feel the brush of His lips as He kisses my neck just above my collar - and give a happy wag of my butt in pleasure and submission.

His one hand reaches up to hold my collar and He uses its restraint to guide me down along His body - licking His pits, nuzzling and nipping His nipples, grazing down the fur over His chest and abs, and finally - breathlessly - finding His cock and balls. He smells warm and musky and utterly fantastic - and i am soon lost in a world of smells and tastes and pleasure - with His meat hard and salty and dripping against my face; His hands are strong as he holds my head and drives Himself into my hungry mouth - pumping His hips and pushing me back down into the mattress. He relents to let me catch my breath - and i take the change to caterpillar underneath Him: nuzzling and licking around His balls and straining to work my tongue into His arse crack and hole - He groans and leans forward - pulls His cheeks apart to let that pink wet tongue tease and lick and probe the puckered core of His sex: begging Him with my tongue for Him to fuck me in turn...

He taps the dog's thigh - has me turn and lie upon my side with my butt cheeks tipped towards Him. His hands are hot as He smooths the cool lube against my hole - and i watches over my shoulder whilst He slowly unrolls a condom onto Himself; He is gentle as He slowly pushes Himself in - feels my hole tense and then slowly open up to Him - to His invasion. He feels the pup surrender to Him - rewards my submission with long slow strokes - slowly pushing deeper as i opens up around Him, beneath Him, until He can feel His balls pressed hard against my butt.

He reaches around and under my body - find my nipples, still sensitive from the night before: strokes and then gently pinches them - feels the twitching response of arousal in my hole as it tightens around Him. i reach up with my own hands to find His, and He takes secure hold of my wrist - letting me feel His restraint and the security of His control. His other hand releases its grip on my nips, reaches back to hold and pull my hips back against Him. He fucks His dog long and slow - listening to my panting breath and whimpers of pleasure.

When He has had enough of His pleasure He rolls over onto His back, pulling the dog over with Him so that i lies on His chest - His cock still deep inside me. One hand reaches around to hold me tight and tease my nipple, the other reaches down to wrap a fist around my straining pierced cock. Although i struggle and whine, He slowly, mercilessly, milks me to shuddering release - then scoops the thick streams of my own cum in His hand and smears it over my wriggling chest. He tells me that i will wear the scent of my surrender with pride.

Spent - pleasured - He releases me with a smack on my rump: then sends me scampering down to the kitchen to bring us both a breakfast of tea and biscuits in bed (listening with shock to the news of the riots in London and Bristol) - before He finally has us stir our limbs and make a start to the day.


Sir says He needs to send some more rubber off to be chlorinated, so we spend a while sorting through His closet to make up another batch, then head into the sun to give it all a good wash (chlorination tends to work best when the rubber is completely clear of any lingering residues of oil, sweat or lube). Sir looks amazing in His rubber dungarees with attached waders, and the pup clomps about in just its waders and rubber shorts - bare chested save for the tattoos inscribed deep into my skin and my own dried cum...

It's hot, wet work - but Sir makes sure to keep me nicely hydrated: He stands on one of the low walls in the garden - wadered boots planted and the zip-fly pulled low so that He can piss a great shining arc down onto my kneeling head and chest - the golden stream running down and over my body and collecting in the pouch of my rubber shorts in a hot pool, bathing my balls and arse and marking me with His scent. When He is done, i greedily and noisily lap around His own cock and balls, cleaning them and bathing them in my own eager pup-drool.

The 'Rubber laundry' completed and packed, Sir then decides to take His pup down to the summer house - where He has already set up the sling...

i spend a glorious while licking and nuzzling Him into readiness - then clamber up into the sling when i am ordered. My hole is sore and tender after the fucking He gave His pup earlier that morning, but i am still eager to try to please Him. Sir is careful and slow, but the pup's hole refuses to relax: He finally has to relent when i can no longer hide my winces and He notices how hard i am biting my lip to stop myself crying out. He fondles and strokes my hole instead and strokes the leaking head of my bouncing exposed cock - telling His dog how much He loves it, and that it means too much to Him for Him ever to knowingly hurt or damage it.

His love and care - and the stroking and teasing - make me all the more eager to please Him, and finally i have to beg Him to ignore my rebellious hole and fuck His pup anyway!

i settle back into the sling and let my breathing become slow and deep - gently, i tense and relax the muscles deep inside me in time to the slowing rhythm, letting myself relax. Sir gently strokes my aching ring with a well lubed finger - probing gently when He can feel the muscles relaxing, but letting the dog set the pace for now...

Both of us feel my hole start to relax as He carefully teases it open... i reach down to pull apart my own cheeks - guide His stroking fingers - then reache up to pinch and tease my own nipples; all the while i stare up at Him, knowing that He can read the hunger and the need for submission deep in my eyes. Finally, Sir feels my hole open enough to take Him - and He slowly slides His cock past the tensing muscles - watching the pup's face, reading my reactions: looking for the dilation in my pupils and the dark bruise of arousal around my eyes...

Both of us can feel my inner pup start to take over: rocking myself against Him as my pup-hole starts to pull Him deeper inside it. Responding to my body's unspoken demands, He slowly starts to picking up the pace of His strokes - pushes deeper into my now willing body. He reaches up to pull forward the bungee straps attached to the head of the sling - draws them down and together and clips them behind my booted knees: pulls my legs up to my chest. The dog in me responds instinctively and i reach up to grab the cleats of my wadered toes: pulling my legs up and out to spread my hole all the wider and to give Him deeper access. The pup is starting to growl and pant now - andi hear myself swearing quietly to Him: begging Him to Fuck His dog 'harder, deeper'.

He unclasps the restraints, grabs hold of the rings on my chest harness - and then lifts me bodily from the sling: He takes a few steps back, the dog speared on His cock and suspended in His arms. His legs strain as it takes our combined weight, and His hips clench to drive Him so deep into the dog's insides that i swear i can feel Him pushing up against my ribs. With an explosive grunt He slaps me back down into the sling - both of us gasping and laughing at His strength. My gasps drive Him to fuck His dog all the harder - picking me up and slapping me down into the sling several times more... Both of us panting and sweating now with the exertion - and the dog gasping at how hard and full He is within me...

He Fucks His dog long and hard, watching to see me pushed to the edge of cumming: then reaches down to stroke my dripping cock and push me over that edge: growling encouraging obsenities as i shoot another thick load to join the dried remnants of the morning's earlier milking.

Finally, He lets me down from the sling to kneel panting and cum covered in the grass whilst He milks His own cock to readiness - then feeds His dog the delicious gift of His cum: spilling it onto the bowl of my tongue so that i can savour the taste and the Honour of His service.




He has the pup bound back to the house to finish pacing the rubber gear, then we run down to the Post Office to send it on its way to Gordon. When we get back, Sir decides it would be a shame not to take advantage of the last of a beautiful day, and so He has us pull on our leathers (the dog still with its rubber shorts and two lots of dried cum on its chest) and head off on the bike for an afternoon jaunt.

It's a beautiful ride down to Portishead - where we both admire the new marina development and imagine Him and Geoff retiring to one of the large balconied apartments (and wondering if there was room for a kennel overlooking the boats... ;) ) - then we head along the coast to Cleevedon - playing chase along the way with a very cute bearded cyclist as he powers up the hilly roads - his lycra-clad thighs and tight rounded arse pumping away, no doubt a little paranoid that we keep stopping to let him pass...

In Clevedon the pup's tummy starts to grumble, and so Sir sends me trotting into a chip shop to buy some cheesy chips and onion rings (grinning as the other customers try to sneak a look at my padlocked collar and 'PISS PUP' T-shirt peeking out from its open leather jacket). Sir then finds a nice little park overlooking the windswept bay and the pier - and feeds His grinning pup by hand as the local dog-walkers look on incredulous. But i don't care: i'm proud and perverted and i'm with my Man whom i love and adore and SERVE.

It's a perfect supper - topped only by bananas and ice cream when we get back home!

-o-o-

And before we know it, our 36 hours are over and it is time for the pup to be heading home again.

i kneel in front of Him - try not to let my sorrow show - then give Him *really* big Sad Puppy Eyes - which makes Him laugh and then tell me off for making *Him* feel sad. But i hug His leg tight - and He ruffles my hair - and we both tell each other how much we love our time together, and how *nothing* could ever spoil that or make us regret being with each other.

Then He walks His de-collared pup to its car, and waves me off as i head back along the motorway home - leaving Him to try to catch up on exhausted sleep, ready for a wonderful weekend with His other boy and 'Attack cat' :))

Tuesday, August 09, 2011

Horny fucking dog

Horny fucking dog: hot tight rubber encasing my body, cool glass plug filling my hole and making it twitch - speeding down the motorway on my way to spending a few days with my Handler d eager to be His dog with perversity filling my mind...

Sunday, August 07, 2011

"Porn is not real..."

i recently read a very sad entry from a young pup's blog: threatening to 'hang up his paws' out of frustration that younger pup's are chosen whilst he remains un-collared and feeling unloved - and quoting various blogs and sites as examples of how everyone else is getting it whilst he is not.

It really upset me to read of his depression and self-harming. i guess i recognised some of that toxic blend of obsession and guilt, frustration and unhappiness from my own youth - and so i left a comment:

"Hey pup,
sorry you're feeling blue and unloved. i know depression: i have suffered most of my life, and been mildly medicated for it for the last year or so, so i sympathise.

i was a lonely and unhappy teenager and adult: not chubby, but over-intellectual, anorexic-ally thin, with huge glasses and dreadful acne - not to mention painfully shy and a guilt-ridden catholic :) i hated myself for my sexuality and my growing perversity, yet was also utterly fixated on it too. i was totally convinced that i would never find love, and that i was doomed to live an unsatisfied and miserably short life.

But then i found real love in an ordinary guy - almost by accident. He wasn't physically anything like the men i fantasised about; he wasn't a Master, or big, or sexy or even fantastically kinky - he was just a nice ordinary guy who treated my kindly and showed me the incredible healing happiness there is in *being* ordinary: sans anything beyond simple friendship and day-to-day love and support. His love and normality literally saved my life.
We fell in love - slowly, and without Hollywood fireworks or day-time soap dramas: just a gradual process of learning to live together with quiet compassion and respect. We are still together, more than 20 years later - and each day is as normal and beautiful as the first.   
i was doubly lucky in that i was also found and later collared by an equally beautiful but ultimately "ordinary" Man who taught me to love and embrace my long-hidden pup-self - and that being kinky can be equally playful and stress-free (in fact: the less stress and expectations, the better and more playful it becomes!)
 
It's hard to see the truth whilst you are young and raging with hormones - but honestly: Sex and kink are not the be all and end all of everything. No matter what you read or see (especially on the net!), sex is *just* sex: immense fun though it can be, it does only form a tiny part of what makes for a balanced and healthy life!
Our 'Community' is one based around sex and kink, and the trouble with that is that it makes sex seem like the core of ourselves and the ultimate purpose for everything; but the internet lies: we are not all having fantastic world-shattering sex with beautiful hunks - nor are we living blissful, carefree lives as the collared pets of mysterious and fabulously wealthy Men. That's porn - and porn is not real.
The more you lack something, the more you want it; the more you strive for it, the harder it becomes to attain - it's the same with sex. But even though it feels like it - everyone else is *not* getting it all the time; not even those who boast that they are. So you're not getting to be collared at the moment, very few people are ever that lucky! - and those that do get collared find that it is not the wonderful porn-filled life that they expected but rather just a normal relationship with all the same arguments and irritations - just with a collar on. But, that's what being human and in love is all about...

Don't believe the lie we all tell ourselves: that there's the right Man out there who will collar us, take away our pain, and make our lives happy forever. And certainly don't believe that if you change yourself in some way you'll find Him. 
No-one ever finds completion in someone else.  
Learn to find you - not you-the-pup, or you-the-slave - not even you-the-loved; just YOU your SELF. Don't try to find yourself in someone else, or someone else who will make you love yourself (or punish you and let you transfer your self-hate onto them).   
Don't define yourself by your sexuality, or your kink - by what you wear or who you listen to - not even by whether you take it or give. You are not your cock or your arse...

Know yourself, LOVE yourself.

The rest will come."

Thursday, August 04, 2011

Bournemouth 'Hide and Sea' bike weekend 2011 (Sunday)





Sunday:

Sunday morning was a terrible temptation: lying in my man's arms, trembling and whining - desperate to beg to be fucked again, but wary of missing our early check-out time. i am very sorry to say that good sense won out over puppy-instincts.

We slowly packed and sorted ourselves - with my Man commenting on how useful it had been to have a butling pup to keep His things in order and safely stowed away every evening. We checked out, left my bag with the hotel, and then headed out for a short morning of riding.

Sir has been looking for some new bike socks, and knew that there was a Hein Gerrick somewhere in Bournemouth - so the pup looked up their address on it's phone, and then we headed out to see if we could find them. We spent a fun time riding up and down the Wimbourne Road, but finally gave up and cruised over to Poole Quay for a stroll instead...

The quay was filled with bikers as usual, so we strolled along and looked at the bikes, then stood and watched as one of the ribs from the Poole Sea Safari prepared to leave (and promised each other that we would plan for a trip with them next time we are down!).





By then it was time to head to the Angelique for brunch and the weekend farewell. i think i made everyone envious of my Man by quietly getting Him coffee and subtly tending to His needs; but what was nicer was hearing the comments and compliments when i then adopted my habitual place and happily knelt at His feet to hug His leg and rest my head on His thigh - whilst He chatted to a nice ex-army guy and abstractly stroked my head. Several guys made a point to compliment the "Sweet puppy!" - and to pat my head as they passed - but the nicest compliment came from a kind older gentleman who said: "I have only ever seen such things in pictures - thank you!".

i also had the pleasure of giving Richard a little neck-rub as we waited in line for coffee - and had to grin at his groans of pleasure :D.

Once again, Phillipe and Toby served the two of us veggies first - much to everyone's jealousy - but in truth there was plenty to go around, including some lovely Chiabata toast ably prepared by our President (Sir also tells me that it made the most satisfying of sausage sandwiches!).

It was a gentle and easy going end to a wonderful weekend - but people slowly started to drift away, and so we also made our goodbyes, made our way back to the hotel for the dog's bag and finally headed out on the road home.

---

The ride home is always a little sad: no matter how wonderful the time we have had, there is still that realisation that soon it will come to an end. But we rode and we chatted and we laughed - sharing thoughts about the weekend, whilst the dog made mental notes of what we had seen and done for this blog.

We made a short rest stop in Shaftsbury - but were shocked to find all of the cafes closed! (it was a Sunday after all). But we eventually found one local bakery that was still open - and managed a large cardboard mug of tea and a shared rhubarb pie sat out by the road-side.

All that tea meant that we did have to make another stop as we headed down towards the Toll bridge in Bathampton though (the route Sir often uses for both it's scenic history, and because it avoids the centre of Bath). Sir kindly stopped in an Inn car park so that the dog could hop off the bike and sneak into the bushes to cock a leg for a quick piss - although with the bluetooth headset linking us my Man was still able to croon and chat to me within the helmet, which had me giggling and wondering if He could hear me piss in turn...

He needed a rest-stop of His own as we headed up to Junction 18. We have used the woods around this well known gay cruising site before - one time with the pup taking its Man's piss whilst several guys stood by and greedily watched. Unfortunately there were kids playing there this time, and so the dog had to stand by and whimper whilst all that golden nectar went to waste...!!


For the whole ride i simply revelled in the pleasure of chatting and hugging Him. Several times i could feel Him simply rest His one hand on my Knee as He rode - and had to hug Him tight when He repeatedly said what a pleasure it had been to have His pup with Him as companion and friend. i had equal pleasure in telling *HIM* how much i love Him and love to serve Him.

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Finally we got back to Sir's house, and a grinning farewell - too happy from a perfect weekend to be sorry that it had come to an end... Unfortunately the pup also realised that it didn't have suitable clothes to drive back in, so had to change into its bike waterproofs and riding boots for a rather warm and sweaty (but deliciously perverted) drive back home. ;)


My thanks to the Men of MSC Bournemouth for organising a wonderful weekend - and for making me feel so incredibly welcome. But my deepest thanks, love and devotion to my Man for giving me the honour of being His companion and friend.

Balls to bone Sir - and everything in between.



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Wednesday, August 03, 2011

Bournemouth 'Hide and Sea' bike weekend 2011 (Saturday)





Saturday:

Saturday was the MSC Official Bike-run - and one reason why we had sneaked off early the night before. We even both set our alarms, just to be sure we didn't over-sleep...

Which off course, we did: waking and dozily nuzzling a "good morning", then turning on the radio and realising that we had slept through the alarm and now had less than an hour to get geared up, breakfasted and over to the Secretaries house for the planned gathering time! The pup did its best to hop into its leathers whilst it set out its Man's clothes and He showered and shaved - then it headed down to the local cafe on the corner to order us both a quick breakfast whilst He changed and then followed with the bike.

We wolfed down our toast and egg and then sped off on the bike - but we still got a reprimand for being late (although, ironically, we were the first out of the house and saddled up and ready to leave...! ).

Joe had planned a nice route up into Dorset then down along the Coast to Weymouth. We had a nicely compact pack of eight bikes - including Richard and Ian down from Hallamshire - and the weather was forecast to be fantastic, so we headed off into the sunshine, leather and chrome and steel a-gleam...





The first part of the ride was along to Dorchester, where we stopped at a biker's cafe by Keep for a rest-stop, fag-break and an ice-cream. There were already a couple of bikes there, and their riders showed a lot of interest as we roared in and clambered off - but they went very quiet when i knelt by my Man's boots like a good pup should... ;)



From Dorchester we then headed to the beautiful West Bay for a planned lunch-stop. It was a very pretty harbour, with a whole raft of chip cabins and restaurants - but it was also the first place that we have ever had to pay for parking the bike (we later learnt that the owner of one of the hotels in the town didn't like the thought of bikes parking for free when he had to pay for his 4x4 - and so lobbied the local council to charge them by the hour!).

Still - it was a nice little place, and Sir and i had fun walking around the harbour, and having a good old rummage around a nice little bike shop overlooking the sea - then we watched a crew of divers preparing to head out along the Jurassic coast (the pup even managed to sneak a few photographs of their wetsuits) before heading back to the pack for a chip-lunch - with the pup once more knelt at its Man's side, grinning as He hand fed it chips and mushy-peas whilst the hets and their kids tried not to look...






Back on the bikes, it was then out along the most amazing coast road, with fantastic views out to sea and back towards Bournemouth. We made a short stop on the top of the downs overlooking Chesil beach, so that Mr Secretary could take a photo of the whole pack together (and a nice man offered to take the picture so he could be included in it too) - then it was down hill all the way into Weymouth.





We had a short wander around, then Sir persuaded everyone that we really needed to make a stop for afternoon tea - with us sat at a pavement cafe, being genteel with warmed apple cake and scones and cream (whilst a band played at the bar across the square, and we steamed in our leathers and the hot sun - and both Man and hound eyed up a cute bearded man on an adjoining table).

It was nice that both Joe and Ed made a point of commenting how much fun it was to ride behind us, and how incredibly animated we are when we ride: with the pup obviously talking and chatting away. Ed also said it was very nice watching the pup's padded arse and 'bootbrush' logo'd legs too ;)




From Weymouth, it was then a long ride back to Bournemouth - and the pup finally thought of trying to photograph the pack-in-flight from over its Man's shoulder; i was also able to snap a sweet pic of our shadow along the road: my puppy ears flapping in the wind...





We were both a little tired by the time we got back to Mr Secretaries house, so we decided to skip the kindly offered ice-cream and head back to the hotel for a doze. We did make a small stop in Westbourne though: to check the parking for that evening, and to take a short stroll through the pretty Westbourne arcade. We also had a very funny chat with a Police man who was waiting by the bike when we returned, a little confused by the 'Dog on board' sticker on Sir's pannier; he laughed when Sir said "that's this one here" and i shook my helmeted head to make my ears wag :)

Back at the hotel, we snuggled up for a glorious nap - drifting away into sleep enfolded in the warmth and scent of my Man - and then waking later to slowly lick and nuzzle Him into a second trembling orgasm...

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The evening meal was a brilliant BBQ held at the delightful Patisserie Angelique; they didn't have a drinks licence, so the pup also had the additional delight of marching down the road in full formal leathers to the local Tescos in a converted church - enjoying the stares and the whispers roused by it's leather uniform shirt and Sam Browne, whilst it marvelled at the stained glass by the checkouts.

The meal itself was fantastic - and Phillipe, Toby and their staff made it the most pleasant of evenings. They made a special vegetarian meal for Richard and i, and served it first so that it would not come into contact with the meat juices or the smells from the BBQ itself; as befits a patisserie, ours was a beautiful puff-pastry mushroom volauvent - and i swear it tasted all the better for us veggies being so carefully thought of and prepared for!

The main meal was then followed by an amazingly simple syllabub with fresh-fruit compote - and we had a great time chatting away with the very sweet (and utterly perverse) Ed, which ended up with the pup stripping off it's leather shirt to show him my tattoos - and with Sir trying to encourage him to buy a pair of His knee-pads ;) Ed was a lot of fun, and just our kind of guy, so i hope we get to meet him again soon.

At one point i had to head off to the Gents - and the fun of fighting my way out of and then back into overly tight leather and a Sam-Browne... i was gone so long that Sir threatened to send in a search-party; but when i finally got back it was to find that a beautiful desert pastry had been ordered for me, and that my Man had even had time to take  Phillipe out to look at His bike...

It was a beautiful evening of fantastic food and perfect company - but finally we had to take our leave and head back.

i was a very full pup that night, and a little saddle-sore - and Sir says i was very restless - but it was worth it!



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Tuesday, August 02, 2011

Bournemouth 'Hide and Sea' bike weekend 2011 (Friday)





Friday:


The morning saw us up and out of bed with surprising speed - determined to make the most of our day together.

We stopped for a brilliantly different 'Turkish' breakfast of eggs, olives and feta cheese at a decidedly run-down little restaurant where we were the only clientele and the owner spoke only the most basic of English (it was a nice breakfast, but eaten under an unfortunately dripping roof...!)

Fed and happy, we then headed out for a coast-line bumble to Christchurch - taking in several nice little bays and the Avon Beach as we rode. Eventually we made it to a little place called Keyhaven, where we stopped for a short break amongst the masts and blue hulls of a local sailing club - and where Sir spotted an 'Ancient Monument' sign for Hurst Castle. This turned out to be a large sea-fort out on a 2 mile spit of land a bit like Chesil beach - but luckily, there was a small ferry, and having not much else planned for the day...

We were the only passengers, and so it was rather fun cruising out through the yachts and fishing vessels - Sir with His spyglass like a handsome sea-captain, and the pup pretending it was a swarthy old sea-dog ;)






The Castle itself was rather impressive: originally a circular Keep built by Henry VIII to defend the Solent, then substantially updated by the addition of two extensive Victorian wings built to house huge 38 ton guns (two of which are still there) - and used right into the Second World War for coastal gun batteries and searchlights. There was also a lighthouse, a theatre - and even a cafe with its own resident dogs (both of whom came to beg for bits of our late Afternoon tea - much to Sir's delight and my envy ;) )





We had a wonderful relaxed afternoon strolling around: looking at the huge gun placements and artillery stores, WWII bath-houses and latrines... there was even an extensive exhibition detailing the history of the local lighthouses (which kept Sir fascinated ;) ). We also made it up to the roof to gaze over to the Isle of White - and watched a flotilla of camouflaged Rib-craft speed out to the Needles and back (presumably part of some Special Boat Service manoeuvres for the British Royal Navy).

As an ancient monument, there were also lots of dark and interesting places where a Man and Hound could find moments to be away from the few people also visiting, and alone for a snuggle and lick (including a perfect, slightly derelict look-out room at the end of one of the wings - where both Man and hound could imagine a group of skin-heads camped out overnight: spending the night with one of their new members chained up and fucked into obedience...).

We both thought it would make an amazing place for an overnight fetish party... :)






Best of all was the Tudor keep itself - with its huge thick walls and deep dark cellars. Deepest and darkest of these was the powder store, deep beneath the main Keep itself, where not a sound could be heard and only the barest of light could filter down. We spent a perfect few moments down in that enfolding dark and pulsing silence: the dog kneeling on the shining bitumen floor, almost invisible in the shadows - licking its Man's hand, then His leather, then His cock - quietly but eagerly drinking down His piss - then bending low to kiss and lick His boots: its leather padded arse raised high - feeling the delicious impact as Master paddled and beat its wagging butt with His gloved hand and listening to the amazing echos of leather upon leather as they reverberated around the thick barely seen walls...

Then Sir had the pup cross the room from Him and used the curved walls as a whispering gallery to whisper to His dog what fun He has when it is with Him - and its amazingly talented tongue...


The day almost at an end, we headed to the bike then took a long leisurely ride back to Bournemouth along long winding country roads. The dog released its accustomed grip around Master's waist and let itself ride by simply gripping its Man's legs tightly between its own thighs - feeling the subtle shift of His weight and the movement of the bike all the more keenly as we wove along the empty roads: enjoying the feeling of total freedom and oneness with the machine and with Him. It was a perfect feeling - and both a wonderful bonding experience and an incredible honour to have a little taste of the pleasure He feels in command of such a beautiful silver steed.

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Back at the hotel, we decided to try for a short nap before the MSC meeting that evening.

Horny from the ride and wrapped safe in His arms, i couldn't help but wriggle and moan until He let me nuzzle down under the duvet to tongue and tease Him once more. The taste and feel of His cock, the day of being in the saddle: it wasn't long before my little hole was twitching and i was breathlessly begging Him to fuck His pup.

He entered and fucked me gently - teased me open and had me panting for more; then He ordered me up onto all fours: told me it was "time to be fucked like a real dog!"

He fucked me long and deep - and i was overwhelmed by the incredible feeling of His strong body against mine, His weight bearing down on me as His hips ground His meat deep inside me. He ordered me to push myself up into a plank position and brace my arms - then pressed His chest into my back, wrapped His own arms around me, and forced me to take the weight of both our bodies as He fucked me deep and hard: my arms and body trembling in effort and excitement...

We fucked for ages - intense and beautiful, hot and sweating - and then Sir had the dog hop off the bed and into the bath on all fours for a quick dog-bath.

Sir has never bathed His pup *as* a pup before - and it was an amazing and intimate experience. The feel of the warm water over my skin, the soft touch of His lathering hands - the intensity of the shower hose splashing against my balls and belly - all were amazingly sensual feelings. But most perfect of all was the incredible feeling of being loved and cared for: My Man showing His pup an appreciative devotion of His own, tending to its care and well being, and making it love Him all the more.

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Washed and dressed in our leathers once more, we then walked the short distance to the pub and the MSC's welcoming buffet and evening meet. On the way we were tagged by a small group of lads heading into town, who thought it was fun to giggle and taunt - until the dog turned and growled at them and they ran off laughing ;)

The night started with a wine reception at Tiger white - and it was lovely how everyone was so pleased to see us both again. We had a fun time browsing through the gear and toys (although i must admit i was just a little disturbed by the perversity of some of the straight porn on display! ;)) ). Sir also had a look to see if they had any good knee-pads (since He has a batch of His own that He is thinking to sell...)

Most of all it was really nice how many of the guys mentioned Pride and the photographs we had posted up - and Joe was also incredibly complimentary about the dog's flashing collar that it wore in Backstreet: regaling everyone of the wisdom of making sure Your pup is easy to see and less likely to be tripped over!

The it was over to the Baker's arms for drinks and Sandwiches, chatting and socialising. It was a wonderful evening - but after the President had done His formal welcome speech, we decided to sneak away quietly for a quiet night-time stroll along the Sea-front, before retiring to bed - Man and hound blissfully snuggled in each others arms.



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