Tuesday, November 08, 2011

...and then down to Worthing

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...

Back in the car, and both of us blessed the heavy rain that finally washed over us - testimony to the wisdom of our joint decision to take the car after all. 

As we drove, the pup had it's own chance to hand-feed my Man - filling His mouth with chunks of handmade clotted-cream fudge and making Him smile. Sir then directed me to a waiting notepad and pen in the glovebox - and had us both laughing and grinning as we tried to scribble down some notes on the previous 28 hours together - reminders for the account the dog would give on this blog.

The dog also took the chance to confess that the sorry state of its split jeans had not been an accident at all - but a shameful attempt to test the comment on His profile: "If you wear denim jeans with hole(s) in, expect me to rip them off you..."

But he forgave me - since, as He said: "We don't do blame - we say 'thank you very much!' "

And i did... :)

"A butt-plug, a toothbrush, and a smile"

"Just bring a butt-plug, a toothbrush - and a smile"
That's the text my Man sent to me: a spontaneous invite to an overnight trip down to the South Coast, in response to my own sad text telling Him how much His pup missed Him. i was grinning so hard on the drive down that evening that it started to get painful around Michaelwood services - and was so big and bright by the time i got to Filton that i almost didn't need my headlights...

i took Him at His word, and packed light: no gear, just my bike leathers; but i had craftily chosen to wear my oldest pair of denim jeans to drive down in: the ones with holes at the knees and a tear in the arse... It didn't take Sir long to discover the split - with a chuckle and a "What's this: moths?!" - hugging me tight to His body whilst His one hand widened the split so that He could push down inside, between the tight denim and my bare thighs - stroking up to find my puppy-butt rubber-covered and plugged ready for Him.

Sadly, the pup was a bit later than planned and there was bad weather forecast for the rest of the evening, so we decided not to travel down immediately - opting to stay home in the warm and dry and travel down to the South Coast in the morning instead (and spoiling Sir's intention to have the pup stay with Him in a nice hotel in Arundel that He and the Cat had found - but then, i got to stay in my Mans arms instead, which was probably the better deal anyway :) )

So instead we had a delightfully domestic picnic-supper of scotch-eggs, cheese and apple - with Sir hand feeding His pup as always - then a little winter treat of warmed apple-crumble and custard! Finally, tired as we both were, it was time to retire to bed ready for the early start in the morning.


Whilst Sir heads for a shower the pup strips out of its rubber shorts and slips its jeans back on -  then sprawls patiently at the end of the bed for Him. When Master comes back into the room - still damp and warm from His shower - He can't help but laugh to find His dog there: head resting sleepily on the edge of the bed and tight denim butt wagging a welcome. He climbs up to kneel on the bed behind my head, enfolds me in His arms, gives me a huge hug and kisses the top of my head - then slowly turns me so that i can bury my eager snout into His furry belly and chest - then work down that treasure trail of manly fur - down to His waiting cock so that i can surround it with my long warm wet tongue...

He climbs off the bed, calls me over to the corner of the room - tells me to "Stay!", then leaves me kneeling obediently whilst He goes to prepare Himself and change into boots and cap. When He returns i bark my excitement and pleasure - then He calls me to heel and leads me into the playroom on all fours.

Down on my knees on the padded floor - back where i belong: deep throating Him whilst He rubs and tweaks at my sensitive puppy nipples; i take His prompt and reach up to squeeze His pecs and then feel for His own hard tight nipples in turn: roll them between my fingers, tug on them, hear and feel His deepening arousal at this little peak of pain.

He orders me up onto the bench, and i leap up on all fours then roll over to "play dead". He taps the end of the bench and i wriggle back to stretch my neck over the edge - exposing the silver glint of my collar and opening my throat to Him. He reaches around and under my body - finds a heavy chain with which He locks my belt loops to the bench: chaining me down and restraining me; another chain goes around under the frame, its crocodile clips pinch and grip onto my exposed and tender nipples... As His strong hands explore my restrained body i soon find myself helplessly writhing in the building pain, the denim tight around my crotch.

He leans over me, His meat stiff and beautiful in front of my drooling tongue - waiting for permission; He gives the command, and i eagerly guide Him into me with my tongue - warm and muscular and rippling underneath Him as it pulls Him down into the heat and hunger of my mouth and throat. He pushes inwards - feels the resistance as my vocal chords slide open around the head of His meat - feels His dog struggle to relax and surrender as He fills its throat and blocks its airways with His meat - knows that it can now not breath or swallow until He relents - that NOW He is in complete control of it's body, it's mind.

His meat spears down into my body, restrained and helpless and bound in both chains and devotion. With His meat hard inside me, He reaches down to stroke over my exposed chest - feels where the weighted chain grips my nipples - squeezes my thighs trapped within the tight denim - strokes up to grope and massage my aching crotch; i know He can feel my cock stiffen down the tight leg of my jeans, that He can see the spreading dampness of my dripping pre-cum as it oozes into the fabric.

My chest spasms, i choke and He finally relents - unclips the chains and lets me sit up to swallow and take a few shuddering breaths. He climbs up behind me - astride the bench with our legs hanging down; He has me scoot backwards so that i can nestle into His chest and arms - He holds me tight as He rubs His chest against me - scouring my back with His chest hair. i lean my head back onto His shoulder, give a groaning whine as He nibbles my ear and strokes my exposed throat with His hand: feeling where He has just been...

He traces down my neck, over my chest and sore nipples - a line of fire where His fingers touch - finally He strokes down over the waistband of my jeans, reaches under to cup my damp denim crotch in the heat of his Hand. i groan once more and try to raise myself up a little: begging Him with my body. He trails one hand around my thigh and then cups under and around my arse - as His other hand reaches for the back of my head and slowly pushes it down towards the bench: raising my butt up towards Him. i groan into the leather padded seat as He traces the outline of my plug where it presses through the denim - easing His fingers under its edges to pull it slightly outwards, then pushes it deeper in: teasing my hole and making me shudder with hunger. He reaches down to stroke the naked skin of my thigh where it is exposed through the split seam of my jeans - teasing at the frayed edges - pushing His hand in under the denim, trying to gain access... then, slowly, i feel Him take a hold of each torn edge - imagine the bunch of His muscles as He applies His strength to the weakening fabric. i feel the denim giving way, starting to tear, and curve my back up towards Him further - presenting my arse to Him - inviting Him, begging Him...

He reaches for a knife - slices through the weakened middle seam, then pulls: the ripping tearing sound is almost frightening as He applies His strength to the denim - there is surrender in the feel of the fabric giving way to His demand: opening up, tearing open - exposing my naked venerability and hunger.

He stands, moves to the front of the bench - His beautiful cock inches from my doggy nose - tantalisingly close. He makes me watch as He slowly rolls on a protective skin: watching that beautiful meat teasingly sheathed and glistening - knowing that it will soon be mercilessly invading my inner core.

He slowly climbs back onto the bench behind me - traces the length of His body against my own and traps me beneath Him; i feel the muscular strength in His legs, strong against my own still tightly enclosed within the remnants of my shredded jeans - the tightness of the denim across my thighs only seems to amplify the naked vulnerability of my helpless arse... His legs grip mine as His sheathed cock rubs and bumps against my now exposed plug: pushing it deeper into me and making me growl and sigh - roll my head so i can look back over my shoulder to see the intensity and burn of His gaze. He takes hold of the plug, exerts a gentle pulling pressure as He stares into my eyes - hungry and demanding; i relax and let Him take it: draw it slowly from my straining body.

And then the inanimate coolness of the plug is replaced by the pulsing animal heat of His Head, resting against the newly empty ring of my self. He doesn't enter at first - doesn't push himself upon His dog - not yet... He lets it - MAKES it - wait. Makes it take time to feel Him, to want Him - to NEED Him inside me.

Only when He can feel my hole trying to open and pull Him in - only then does He start to push and slide Himself slowly, millimetre by millimetre, into the hot trembling eagerness of His dog's inner core.

My hunger and eagerness make it hard to accommodate Him: i struggle to relax - pant and breath deeply. He takes His time, teases out the pleasure: pushes inwards inch by inch - waiting for each rippling wave of my twitching arousal to pass before He pushes deeper in. He is gentle but merciless - stringing out the sensations as He slowly enters and takes what is only and truly HIS.

The soft animal of my body yielding to HIM and HIM alone.

The deeper He enters me, the further down into the bench i feel myself sink - melting into the leather, into the heat and the surrender - relaxing and opening - into my sub-space, my true place: under Him, pleasing Him - my body my sacrifice, my surrender my gift. Fully given to this deep feeling of being where i must - my blissful return. i sink down into the bench - opening up deeper and deeper until i feel He is lancing up and spearing into my heart: opening my soul and filling me with loving Him - serving Him - being HIS.

He takes His pleasure from my body - gifts us both OUR pleasure - His whispered gasps and muttered obscenities the greatest compliment i could ever wish for. Fucking me deep, slow, merciless - my mind lost in the bliss of it - whilst my animal body pants and throbs and moans around and under Him. His legs gripping me down onto the bench, His arms wrapped around and under my chest, pinning me down under Him whilst He thrusts deep and deeper still - pounding His masculinity into me whilst His sharp teeth find the soft skin of my neck and He growls His dominant possession of everything that i am.

His arms slip under and around my hips as He pulls my belly up from the bench - draws me up before Him and onto all fours - His cock still buried balls-deep inside me. His hips buck and His body wraps around me as He fucks me doggy-style - reminding me of the dog that i gratefully am; i raise my knees off the bench, brace my shoulders and push up into a knee-lift - raising my butt up those extra few inches to match the beautiful length of His own legs, so that He can push Himself deeper into me in comfort - i feel His growl at how He can feel His dog's strength as it holds up our combined weight with its arms - the flex of His jock-pups shoulders and back and the increased tension in it's muscles...

He has us both edge backwards until he can step off the edge of the bench - pulls me back towards Him until i am able to lie my chest and belly along it with my legs braced and spread: my hole wide open - He fucks me deeper still until my hole is burning and dripping with hunger and need.

Finally, He relents - slowly withdraws whilst the dog pants and whines and trembles. He has me turn and kneel before Him whilst He pulls off the condom; His meat is dripping: full and raw and straining with hunger. i stare up at Him with dark-ringed hungry eyes, my tongue already hanging ready for Him - great drops of dog-drool splatting the floor between us, pooling with the lube that drips from my abused hole.

He gives His dog permission and it covers Him in kisses - then lets Him feel the hot hungry tightness of its breathless throat... He is already edged so close, it is not long before He is telling His pup "Steady - careful now - feeding my dog!". His cum is the sweetest i have tasted it, and i lap every drop with hunger and tears in my eyes.

He holds my head close against Him - tells me how much He loves fucking His dog - how much He Loves His dog. i whine and wag my throbbing tail - letting my body say what i find i cannot find words to fully express.

He tips up my head, leans down to kiss my nose - then takes hold of my collar to guide me up onto my feet. Quietly He leads His boy back along the landing and into the bedroom. Fed, complete - crawling into bed with my Man - snuggled and happy, wrapped safe in His arms: i am the happiest dog in all of the world.

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