Despite the fun and excitement of the previous night's play we still managed to wake early - both of us stirring just before the early morning alarm, the pup sighing at the pleasure of being wrapped safe under the duvet, my Man warm and furry behind me. As He felt me start to wake, He pulled me back into His arms - and indulged and endured my snuggles and nuzzles before sending me off to make tea and breakfast and prepare for the drive down to Worthing and the sea.
As expected, the weather looked bad for the afternoon, so we decided to play safe and take the car - which was a shame, since the pup loves its time on the bike with its Man - but it was warmer and safer, and as Sir pointed out: getting soaked on the way down would mean an entire miserable day and a horrible ride back. Besides, it gave us a chance to properly chat all the way - and for the pup to rest a paw in His lap for the entire 160 odd miles (excepting a short break at the services for tea and a flapjack - and a curious chat about the sartorial Independence of Goth style - inspired by a gentleman in plus-fours and a wing-collar...).
Off the Motorway, we took the scenic route down through beautiful Arundel, before finally getting to Worthing itself - where Sir dropped His dog off on the seafront whilst He attended to the family duties that had brought Him down.
Unfortunately, with the curious and 'unexplained' demise of the seat of its one pair of jeans, the dog discovered that it now only had either its bike leathers or a *very* tatty pair of old gardening jeans to wear - and Worthing is far too polite a place to be seen in creosote-stained denim! So the first task of the day was to hot-foot into Beales to find some nice new black 501s to match its Man's own; the lady behind the counter was delightfully polite about my jingling dog-tag and collar - and kindly snipped off the labels so that i could change into my new purchases immediately...
Feeling much more comfortable, it was then a pleasant - if slightly damp - day of window shopping and windswept walks along the sea front. As predicted, the weather only worsened throughout the day - but the whistling wind and crashing surf only served to draw me out onto the pier, to feel the shudder and crash as each wave reverberated against the superstructure below - and to watch the white-capped swirling water seething over that curious under-pier space where my Man and i had played on our last low tide visit: rubbered and wadered and high-vis'd - but now completely drowned beneath violence and sound.
But eventually even the dog had to retreat before the pelting rain - retiring to the calm gentility of the Denton Lounge at the entrance to the pier for a warming cup of tea and a sneaky read of my Kindle whilst the rain lashed at the windows - before my Man called me back out into the rain to be picked up and whisked back home again (and to say how very impressed He was with the dog's new jeans...)
Despite having driven through the outskirts of the 'ports many times, the dog confessed to having never actually been into Portsmouth itself - and so Sir decided to take us off down onto Portsea and the Gunwarf Quay.
We had a truly enjoyable stroll around the shops, then Sir suggested we take a trip up the marvelous Spinnaker tower. The sun had just set, and the views across the night-time city where simply breath taking: with the world spread beneath us and the storm clouds darkening the sky above us - and the city and Isle of Wight picked out in the yellow blaze of street lights. We even got to watch as the ferries glided in and out of port - and the hovercraft sped and roared across the channel.
It was shortly before closing, and so we also got a quiet moment up on the top 'Crows nest' floor - taking the privacy for a kiss and a snuggle whilst the cold wind whistled above our heads. On the 170ft return to earth, we got roped into a little 'customer survey' from the young lift attendant - who was trying to persuade his bosses that he should be allowed to play his guitar up on the viewing deck to give the visitors some entertainment... He was a very polite and friendly young Man - and never minded that the pup spent most of the ride down held tight and warm in its Man's arms, it's tail gently wagging and a huge grin on its face...
Back down on earth, dinner was a fantastic super-food salad extravaganza at the curiously named 'Giraffe' - where we were served by the endearingly hairy Luke (who also had the delightful habit of kneeling down beside the table to take our orders, his jeans stretched across his thighs and crotch in a most pleasantly distracting way...). They also did a brilliant bruschetta sharing platter, that Sir hand-fed to His pup whilst it grinned back at the other customers...
Nicest of all was the wonderful little poem, scribed across the large mirror at the back of the bar:
Every giraffe knows...
that smiling is infectious: you catch it like the flu; someone smiled at me and I started smiling too.
I looked around the tables and someone saw me grin, and when he smiled I realised that I'd passed it onto him.
I've thought about my smile a lot and realised it's worth:
a single smile like yours or mine could travel around the earth.
So if you feel a smile begin don't leave it undetected stat an epidemic quick and get the world infected!
After our meal, Sir took us both on a stroll around the quays and then over onto Spice Island and old Portsmouth - where He led us out to roam along the battlements that front onto the navigable channel. We eventually found a nicely seated area overlooking the basin, where the pup sat astride its Master in His lap - nuzzling against Him from the cool wind across the sea and wagging its plugged hole against His thigh - as we both waved at the passengers in the Isle of Wight ferry as it slowly cruised by in the darkness...
But eventually the cool evening drove us back down into the old brick corridors and night darkened passageways - lit only by the sulphurous burn of the sodium lighting and the effervescent sea (those dark spaces easily the equal of any Dark-room, and leaving us both astounded that they were not heaving with guys cruising for trade).
i lost track of Him for a moment in the darkness, whilst i took a crafty piss against the old brick of one corridor - then turned to find my Man waiting silent and brooding behind me in the dark. In answer to His unspoken command, i silently and obediently knelt before Him - opening my mouth to take His piss and then His cock, with the murmur of the waves against shingle the only sound...