Saturday, May 26, 2012

A trip to Manchester: Thursday into Friday



Sir and His pup had originally been booked to go to a puppy event in Cumbria this weekend. Unfortunately, the event didn't quite make the necessary numbers it needed to run, but by then we had already arranged a mid-way stop-over in Manchester and so we thought 'Why not just go anyway...?'

Although our hotel stay was booked to start on Friday, Sir suggested I come down early Thursday evening and help Him complete a few chores. He said that if I was really good, He'd then take me to the bike night at Weston and let me sleep over afterwards... :)

He then double-whammied me by opening the door in a 'new' set of beautiful white one-piece leathers and a new beard-trim that emphasised His handlebar mustache...!

He didn't leave the new leathers on for too long though - just long enough for the pup to get a bit breathless and overexcited, stroking them and admiring how much He looked like the gorgeously sexy Simon Day (from Honda's beautiful 'Impossible dream' advert...); then He smacked the pup's arse to speed me into a quick-change from my civvies and into my rubber sleeveless suit, ready to join Him (now in His own wader-suit) in a little jet-washing of the patio furniture.

It turned out Sir's demand for me to be in rubber was as much from practicality as for kink: I've not used a jet-wash before (poor disadvantaged child), so I was amazed at what a kick it has - and how wet everything and everyone gets from the splashback.



We spent a happy few hours cleaning away in the warm sun and arching rainbows - with a few breaks to let Sir decant His full bladder into His kneeling dog's throat - then, furniture clean, Sir took us out into the front to wash down the bike ready for our long ride up north in the morning.

Jobs done - and Sir deciding that the pup had proved himself a 'good boy!' - it was then into our leathers (the pup cheating and keeping his rubber one-piece on underneath), and onto the now-clean bike to head down to Weston.

There were lots of lovely bikes - and bikers! - about, and we even saw several other Pan Europeans; we also stalked a *very* sexy guy whose massive thighs and bubble-butt threatened to burst out of his unbelievably tight leathers at every step. My proudly displayed collar and 'bootbrush' branded jeans got lots of attention too - including a few parents pulling their kids away in vague fear ;)

We also got snapped a few times by the official photographer:





We were both ravenous by the time the event was winding down, so we grabbed a bag of chips and battered mushrooms from Papa's Traditional Fish Shop and headed over to the cliff-side gardens at Anchor Head.

There were already several guys hiding out in the shelter built into the side of the cliffs there, ostensibly watching the sun set across the Bristol Channel, the Holms and Cardiff - but I suspect they were there for other nefarious reasons... I suspect so, because they didn't leave when Sir started hand-feeding me chips, and calling me a pervert and His 'good boy' - and also because they came for a closer look when Sir then stood to let His pup wash the chips down with His piss and then massage His meat with its tongue and throat. One of them even kindly kept a look-out, to warn us all if anyone else came along...

I love servicing my Man when others are there to appreciate my work. There is a real power in being watched: in the way that their arousal enhances our own, and in the way that their watching makes my service and perversity real. It makes me feel Proud to be seen and known as the devoted cock-sucking pup that I am.

But best of all: I know that my Man feels proud when He is able to show off His pup and have other men appreciate and envy what it does for Him - how completely and devotedly it is His and HIS alone.

Sir didn't let me bring Him to the point of feeding me then - but decided to have us both hop back on the bike (with a cheeky grin over our shoulders to our 'audience') and then head back home.

Although it had been a beautifully warm day, we were both a little chilled by the time we got back to Bristol, so we decided to strip off and slide into the hot-tub - gazing up at the night sky as we let the warm water soak the heat back into our bodies. We chatted for ages too, with the pup nuzzled back into its Man's chest - talking about relationships and trust, friendship and commitment.

Saying that I feel I am able to explore things with Him that I have never felt comfortable doing with anyone else, simply because He inspires such a deep, unquestioning level of trust in me.


Telling Him that His non-judgemental acceptance and deliciously perverted sense of Pride makes me feel so good about my puppy self, whilst His open-hearted attitude of playfulness simply makes almost any depth of depravity feel like 'no big deal'...

It was a deep heart-to-heart, and so it was late into the night when we finally, sleepily, pulled ourselves out of the tub and upstairs into bed. But it was a warm and safe and very very happy pup that slept that night in my Man's arms.


A trip to Manchester:

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