We were both happily exhausted by the time we got back from a fantastic evening of pup-play and frolics at Gear.
The pup just about managed to clamber out of the back of the car and crawl into the house before collapsing in a soggy heap of sweaty rubber - giggling breathlessly as Sir laughed at His useless dog lying in the way and threatening to trip Him up as He carried in His bags and gear from the car.
Sir tidied away some of the gear, then helped the pup out of its dog-hood. Unfortunately, as He did so we found that the glue securing a couple of the press-studs appeared to have melted - a possible unfortunate consequence of having the hood chlorinated...? The hood is now off for repair, so i'll let you know both what the prognosis is, and the expert's opinion as to the cause.
With the car unpacked and the dog finally able to breathe freely again, Sir headed up the the playroom - patting His leg and calling the pup to follow him: its body lithe and shining in the full rubber as it trotted up the stairs on all fours, its nose bumping the side of His leather-clad leg.
Sir sat on the edge of the bench, then called me over to kneel between His boots - my padded paws resting on their rough grain. He told me then what a good pup i had been - how everyone at the club had complimented Him on how obedient and sexy His dog was, and how much fun it was to have his sexy little pup scampering around. i couldn't help but grin up at His proud words - my puppy-butt wiggling and my tail thumping happily - tongue lolling in a true doggy-smile.
He leant forward, kissed the top of my head - then tipped my face up to kiss my cold doggy nose too. He then held my chin in His hands and stared deep into my eyes - and told me how much He loves His dog.
i have never felt more happy or proud.
He grinned down at me - then cocked His head and nudged my sheathed and cod-pieced crotch with His boot-toe: watching as His pup let out a big sigh, then pushed itself back into His leg. His voice deepened as He crooned 'good boy!' - then His gloved hand reached down to release His own meat from His now straining leather cod-piece...
He let me work over His meat then: contentedly licking Him - bathing His balls in my doggy-spit, licking and nipping and sucking each beautifully full globe or flesh and manhood. I could feel His cock hot and hard against the side of my cheek, rubbing into my beard and moustache.
I worked tirelessly, until He finally pushed me back with a gentle hand on my head - then wordlessly, He climbed off the bench and guided me up onto it in His place - my belly pressed into the padded leather and legs braced wide: open, ready, surrendered: HIS.
He was careful at first: even quoted my own blog posts and teasing me in saying "Don't let me hurt you" - knowing that little phrase will always only make me want to take Him all the more: pushing myself to take Him, to want Him - to please Him deeply and fully.
My surrender only stirred Him all the more - pushing Himself into me, deeper, harder, more urgent. My whimpers only made Him more hungry until He was fucking me hard: powering away - telling me that this time He would use me - that this time He would give me what i write that i want and need. That this time He will ignore my struggling and cries and fuck me until He cums.