Monday, March 10, 2014

London, February 2014 - Saturday at Spitalfields and Brick Lane

I slept better than I have in a long while: snuggled with my Man whilst the wind howled and rattled outside.

Luckily the storm had blown itself out by the time we awoke on Saturday morning. Not that we noticed for a while - since Sir kept His pup somewhat distracted and busy, letting me feast on His beautiful meat once more...


When we finally dragged ourselves out of bed we decided to hop on a bus up to Ealing - passing the famous Ealing studios on the way (very interesting for a Film-Librarian pup!). Breakfast was a great combination of sour-dough toast, organic eggs and a huge salad at the Farm W5, overlooking Ealing Green - then we strolled along Ealing Highstreet, window shopping on our way up to the Tube and on into the City for a day sight-seeing. At least, that was the plan: the storm had knocked out power and blocked the lines, so we spent a wee while shuttling between platforms until we finally found a train that was actually running... and then had the joy of sitting opposite a rather unpleasant child who kicked the seats and gringed at his parents for most of the way - with Sir growling in His best Child-catcher voice, wanting to be allowed to set His crop on the rude little monkey... ;)


It was raining when we got to Liverpool Street, but it didn't last long and we didn't get too wet as we walked to the Smithfield market. 

I've not been there before, so Sir had a very enjoyable time leading me around the many different stalls, laughing as His dog 'ooh!' and 'Ah!' 'd over the vintage clothing, toys, objet d'art and other tranklements on offer. The dog got especially excited over a fantastic stall selling vintage hats (I've always wanted a Topper!) and we tried to squeeze Sir into a rather dashing vintage red waistcoat (no luck of course - it would have been a stretch to even get it on the dog!) - then we grabbed some street food and settled down to watch the world go by for a while.




Then we strolled on over to Brick Lane and did the whole thing again ;)

Best of all was the tube journey back: riding a cramped central line train, the other passengers oblivious to the panting dog squeezed into a corner with my Man's gloved thumb pushed into my mouth and holding my jaw,  His leg pushed into the hard bulge of my crotch with the dog quietly growling as the shaking carriage ground me down onto Him all the harder... ;)

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Back at the hotel, and Sir backed me into a corner with His gloved hand around my neck - kissed me hard and long, then stepped back with a growl whilst I sank to my knees and watched with hunger as He slowly unbuckled His jeans, and pushed down His bike jock - revealing His beautiful cock...

Sir let me lick and nuzzle that beautifully scented, swelling meat to my hearts content for a short while - then patted my wagging rump and told me to run and change into my rubber shortie suit and tail. I padded into the bathroom to clean-up and change with a grin - but when I scampered back out on all fours, thick tail wagging in my hole, my Man was nowhere to be seen!

I gave a questioning bark; a gloved hand grabbed my neck and pulled me to my feet, another pressed over my mouth and nose - and I was pulled back hard against the hot body of my Man, hiding behind me in the hall.

I could feel that He had changed into gear - feel the brush of His chest and belly hair through my suit, and the press of a jock-strap and harness. He lent back against the wall, pulling me off balance - one booted leg wrapped around mine, trapping my legs and letting me see the high shine of His tall Dehner dress boots. With me safely restrained, and one hand still tight across my mouth - making me struggle to suck in enough leather-scented air - He released my neck, and set to exploring my chest, nipples and stiffening rubbered bulge with the other. My tail wagged and bumped between us as I huffed and growled my pleasure - and my pain as those strong fingers teased and probed and roughly pinched. I was in doggy heaven.   

Finally, my Man set me back down to the floor. He told me "Stay!", then stalked across the room to settle down in the one armchair. Gods but He looked stunning in His tall black boots, leather jock, harness, gloves and Muir - smiling across the room at His pup with my yellow leash in His gloved hands. He waited a moment - enjoying my silent obedience to His command - then finally tapped His crop against the side of His boot and gave me the quiet command to "Come!"

I scampered to His feet - tail wagging and bumping against my back and thighs - and sat obediently at His boots, waiting for His next command. Sir stroked my newly short hair, and I turned my face to kiss His palm then lick His gloves. Then He gently pushed my head down to the glistening smoothness of His Dehners and told me "Good boy: lick them like a good little pervert!"

I have the pup name for a reason: I fuckin love a beautiful tall pair of boots - love to get them nice and wet with my mouth and tongue, then rub them to a shine with my beard and face. My Man settled back to watch His pervertedly blissed out boot-brush - face down, butt high - growling and moaning as I wagged my tail to show my pleasure; He reached out with a still wet boot-toe, pressed the smooth sole into the soft flesh of my rump - tapped against my tail and made it swing. I growled and wagged and licked all the harder - grinning to hear my Mans laughing growl of satisfaction.

Finally He used the toe of His boot to push me up from my drooling attentions - let me shuffle closer and rest my head upon His knee; the other boot He slipped under my arse so that my rubber-covered cock and balls rested against the smooth, wet leather. Helplessly horny, I couldn't help but wriggle myself down upon His toe as I stared up hungrily into His eyes.

"Pervert!" He growled - then reached down to unsnap my codpiece - releasing my straining, dripping cock; I shuddered as His hand stroked the tender end - smearing my precum in a slick film across the head and flicking the ring through my glans - then He trapped that tender flesh between His booted ankles, grabbed my chin, starred into my eyes and said "Go on then - fuck my boots, Dog!"

I was already close, but I tried to take my time: slowly humping myself against His leg: my cock lubed with my own spit and precum, sliding against and between the smooth grain of His boots; the taste of Sir's glove rich on my tongue as He held my head and growled His encouragement - His eyes boring into mine as I let go of my hunger and humanity and finally covered that beautiful leather with my perverted cum.

And then He ginned and let me clean His beautiful boots all over again...



London, February 2014

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