Friday, October 12, 2012

Northern fuck-pup (Manchester redux: 3)

Another perfect morning: waking up beside my Man within the crisp white hotel sheets of our Wanderlust (to mis-quote Ms. Mitchell)

I gave a happy puppy-rumble of pleasure which made my Man open a sleepy eye, and reach over to fondle my hair - so I snuggled over to nuzzle against His shoulder and stroke a warm hand down along His back. He gave a lovely deep growling sigh - and then quietly rolled over onto His belly, with His head on His arms: opening up His back and shoulders to my gently kneading fingers and softly smoothing palms. 

Back in the day I actually qualified in Therapeutic Holistic Massage. I never did it professionally, but some part of me still remembers the techniques; a great deal of a good massage is to do with 'feeling' the body beneath your fingers and 'reading' the body's response - gently working with the body and the breath to ease the muscles and tendons into relaxation and increased movement. As the masseur you fall into a deeply meditative state - and it can feel as relaxing for the masseur as for the one massaged. There is a childlike fascination in feeling how this muscle attaches here, a curiosity in seeking out where each body holds their tension - and a deep pleasure in feeling that tension slowly dissolve beneath your fingers... 

There was equal pleasure in feeling the heat of my Man's body beneath my Hands - the breadth of His back and the depth of His muscular frame - and my hands looked so tiny and so pale against His warm brown skin.  

I kneaded the knots from His shoulders, and the kinks from His back - then carefully climbed upon Him to sit astride His hips, and let my fingers quietly ease into a more sensual exploration of His body - caressing his back, thighs and furred arse with my hands and lips.

He rolled over then - let me bury my questing tongue into the fur of His chest as I searched out His nipples: then set to grazing them with my lips, teasing them with my tongue, nipping them with my teeth - teasing them to hardness and sensitivity until I had my Man twisting beneath me in pleasure.

With His attention focused on my tongue as it flicked at His nipples, I stroked my hands down along His richly furred abs to find His cock beautifully full and hot - His foreskin already partly pulled back to expose the slick heat of His head. I teased one wet finger under the tight skin: traced along and inside - between the skin and the ridged edge of His glans - felt the shudder of pleasure that racked through His body, and the subtle thrust of His hips as He tried to fuck Himself into my hand. With Him gently held in the arched fingers of one hand, I gently circled the other around His beautiful balls - pulling and pressing slightly so that His gentle thrusts would force them rhythmically back against His G-spot - timing the circles of my fingers and the gentle pull on His balls so that they matched the rhythm of my flicking tongue and the gentle nips of my teeth on His nipples - teasing every extremity until He could feel each part of Him connected and merged into one erotic current of pleasure.

And then I gently reached around, underneath His balls, and gently stroked His hole as well. Nips, balls, head and hole - I knew that the intensity must be almost too much for Him to bear for long - and He finally had to place a restraining hand on my own: raising His head with a grin and a regretful "
I don't think the human body is designed for such excessive levels of simultaneous stimulation, boy...!"

Sir decided to give me some payback though: with a grin He flipped me over onto my back and pinned me down to the bed - arms spread wide and legs pinned with the weight of His body - whilst He beard-rubbed me into squealing submission.

Still laughing, He told me to hop off the bed, and had me wait obediently on all fours whilst He went to explore through the 'bag of tricks' that He had brought 'just in case'. I was very good, and didn't look too disappointed when He pulled out several scenes worth of toys that we hadn't got around to playing with - and then I was too busy enjoying the beautiful padded-blindfold and muzzle that He fastened around my head.

The blindfold pressed gently against my eyes whilst the muzzle cupped my jaw and filled my mouth - the soft leather-scented darkness filled my senses and quietened my mind, and I found myself opening into that wonderful stillness of submission that only bondage can bring. He let me suck on the leather gag whilst He played with my exposed nipples with gauntleted hands - obviously enjoying my muffled groans and blind-questing head. The He released my mouth from the gag and replaced it with His own leather-gloved fingers - stuffing them into my eager mouth to let me hungrily suck and lick and breathe in their heady scent.

Then He told me to 'Speak!' and I had us both choking with laughter at my somewhat muffled growl of "Vegetarian Sausages!"


Sir finally had the pup make some tea, whilst He turned on the radio - which is when we realised that we'd been playing for hours, and were probably late for the loosely arranged meeting with my parents for the planned 'wallet swap' in the Ikea half way between Manchester and Liverpool (which was indeed true - as I found when I turned on my phone and found yet more increasingly grumpy messages from my Dad wondering where we were...). 

Late as we were, it was a quick hop into the shower (with Sir only then noticing that the shower door had a hole bored through it for a handle - which would have made for a very interesting 'Glory hole' had we had the time to explore it), then a frantic pack and checking-out - whilst I phoned my Dad and made apologies - blaming our delay on difficulties in getting the car out from the multi-storey car-park without our ticket, which was still in Sir's wallet (as it happened, when the Security guard heard our tale of woe he was very sweet and let us out without paying!).

We got to Ikea before Mum and Dad, so we sat in the car park and learnt a few of the songs for Sir's next concert with 'Sing Out Bristol'. There were quite a few old favourites on the CD, and it is always such a pleasure to hear His wonderful tenor voice - and both of us where making quite a fool of ourselves singing along and practising the 'Choral-ography' hand movements when my parents finally drew up.

We hadn't had a proper chance to say goodbye the night before - what with the heavy rain keeping us in our respective cars - so it was really nice to be able to see them both for a proper farewell. I should have thought to take a photo of us all together, because they both looked so sweet with my Man towering over them. I also got to share a conspirational grin with my Man when my Dad commented on my leathers and Sam-Browne - and Sir's full leather uniform - saying how smart we looked, but how it also made him feel slightly nervous... But best of all was my Mum's gently restraining hand on my Dad's shoulder and her quietly diplomatic "Don't ask, dear..." when he noticed my padlocked collar and dog-tag (my Mum is very cool and knows most of my kinks, but my Dad is still just a wee bit too 'Catholic' to be told about most of what goes on in my life. What they don't know, they can't worry - or pray - about...)

Wallet-swap complete, it was then handshakes from my Dad and hugs from my Mum, and a genuine 'Thank you!' from them both to my Man 'for bringing David up to see us' - and then it was time to be heading off home.

It was an uncharacteristically smooth drive down the M6 home - but that meant we had lots of time to chat about the weekend and to write some notes for this blog on my iPad as we drove. 

Sir was yawning much of the way back, which made me feel guilty knowing that He was working late that night - guilty and sympathetic, since I was also going on with Geoff to a late night party in Goring for a friend's 40th birthday. We promised to keep each other awake though - which we did by spending the night giggling and grinning over sneaky texts and reminders to each other of what an amazing time we had had - and how much fun it is to be Man and hound.

Manchester Redux:

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