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A Man at Play part two:
Playing Puppy
Warm afternoon sunlight flitted through the open blind and warmed the black blazer stretched across Sufjan's broad shoulders. He was dozy, only half-aware of the office. It was co-joined to the next-door office of Mr. Davie: the boss. A maze of fantasies and images spun around his mind, engorging his stiff phallus in his luxury briefs and tight suit trousers. His legs almost automatically swayed back and forth to squeeze each ounce of pleasure into his groin. Three weeks and no word, no passing reference to his erotic display, or the authority over his sexuality that Davie commanded. No hint of desire from him. But Sufjan, he had a desire for more.
His mind played an image on his desk. Davie was slamming his cock into Lionel the secretary, his ex-boyfriend. Lionel moaned as Mr. Davie's body bonded with his. Then Sufjan would discover them both and fuck Mr. Davie's ass as he deserved. He longed for his cock to meet his boss's flesh, to be absorbed in his body. He longed to hold the cheeks of his boss's ass he me met them with his youthful hips. He dreamt of the sighs and cries of delight as he filled his dominator's anal passage with milky young come.
His hand began to fondle his crotch at his desk. He could feel the body of the older CEO sitting up on his own, his ass checks spread over his waist. Sufjan started fucking his cradled hand and let his hips buck. He unzipped his fly and rubbed his hard cock against the desk. He was driving his cock up his boss's ass: the ass he lusted for so long.
The phone rang. Sufjan was startled.
It rang again. Reality snapped back into his head like an overstretched rubber band. He swiftly covered up and professionally reached for the phone.
"Robert Davie's office, how can I help you?"
"Don't stop." It was Mr. Davie's voice. But it was husky, it was beautiful. It was lustful, not hateful and boring like on other days. "I've been waiting for this. How long did it take you crack?"
Sufjan's Earth was suddenly spinning at twice the speed of everyone else's.
"It's been three weeks to the day, Mr. Robert sir, I mean boss."
"Don't stop, Sufjan."
Sufjan reached for his crotch and started rubbing again. "Oh, sir. You're watching me, aren't you?"
"Yes, McCoy. I've been watching and waiting. You're very controlled. Usually you go in the bathrooms at around 3pm. Lionel knows, he hears you jacking off in the cubicles."
"The little faggot!" Sufjan rubbed his cock through his underwear nonetheless. He was glad his boss knew. He needed his boss's attention in more than one way.
"I saw your erection in your trousers as you passed through my office. You are a handsome man, a very handsome man..."
"Fuck sir, I need you. I need to - "
"Strip."
Sufjan lay down the phone. He stood up, and pulled his trousers and briefs to the floor, showing off his smooth thick thighs. His cock was wet, long, and brick-hard. Next he slid off his blazer and pulled of his silken neck-tie. His shirt quickly unbuttoned, he threw his clothes haphazard on the office floor. He swiftly stepped out of his slip-on shoes and pulled off his white cotton socks to nudity. The strips of afternoon sunlight lay on his broad back and little round ass. His body was impeccably well-kept. He eagerly awaited his next instruction as he picked the phone up from the desk.
"I left a gift in the filing cabinet. Open it, and put it on."
"Yes, sir."
Sufjan went to the cabinet and pulled open the top drawer. There was a brown leather dog collar and leash. He fastened it around his neck: the leather against his tingling skin sent shocks through his system. He felt cheap, and used, ready to obey. He picked up the receiver.
"Now, Sufjan, you are my pet. From this point on, you will not speak: you may growl or bark. Hang up the phone, and crawl into my office on your hands and knees."
Sufjan remained silent. He was excited. He put down the phone and took to his knees. Maybe at last he would fuck his boss. His dick jostled and bumped against his stomach as he padded across, opened the door and arrived in his boss's office.
"Oooh Sufjan, who's a good boy?" Mr. Davie rubbed his hands through Sufjan's hair and over his smooth face, shutting the door behind him.
Sufjan panted aloud. He wanted to seduce his boss, to tell him how much he needed to fuck his ass. To tell him how much he needed his flesh around his cock, how he longed to hold his ass in his hands. But, he could only bark and growl. So he did: Sufjan barked. And barked. How could he communicate his desire?
"Quiet boy! Stay."
He stopped.
Mr. Davie leant against his desk. Sufjan's eyes followed his hands as he rubbed his suited body, and felt out his stiff prick. He groaned and rubbed it, masturbating himself gently. There was a wet patch in his designer trousers. He had clearly been enjoying the show so far.
Sufjan sat up on his hind legs and panted. He watched his boss make love to his own cock, saw the desire spasm across his face, and locked lustful eyes together.
"Beg, doggie. Beg for me."
Sufjan growled and rubbed his chest. He put his front paws together and made soft doggie noises. How could he make his boss want to get fucked!?
"Now roll over!" Mr. Davie undid his fly and top button. "You'll get a treat if you're a good boy." His trousers and woven boxers fell to the floor as he pulled out his hairless cock and balls. He let out a great sigh and thrust his cock forwards, fondling gently.
Sufjan rolled on his back, and sat up, looking expectantly at Davie.
"Bark!"
Sufjan did his best bark.
"Louder!"
He roared like a bloodhound.
Mr. Davie turned around, and bent over his desk. Sufjan's cock grew harder, his precome oozing in expectation. Desire possessed his whole body, his whole mind.
"Sniff me like a mutt."
Sufjan stuck his nose deep into Mr. Davie's smooth soft ass. He lapped his hole with his tongue.
Mr. Davie signed and moaned, "Good boy, gooood boooy..."
His body urged him to rise, to mount, to fuck him like an animal. He was overcome, but when he pulled back his head, his boss sat up and pulled his cock back around to his face.
"Sit, Sufjan, sit."
Sufjan sat back and panted with his mouth open. The taste of his ass was fresh in his mind. He leant back on his hind legs and awaited his boss's command. He couldn't think past his boss's orders: he wouldn't dare move in case he displeased him. He wanted that treat, but he had to obey.
Mr. Davie was walking to him. His hand felt around Sufjan's ear. Sufjan growled, almost purred, in response. Davie grabbed the collar at the back and pulled hard, choking him a little.
"You're a good doggie, Sufjan. Lionel said, you never let him fuck you. Poor guy, neither did I! So your the top type... but you're my bitch here, understand?"
Choking on the collar, Sufjan nodded a response.
"You know you fucks who. And you're gonna lust for my cock in my office. Understand? Now, beg."
He threw Sufjan to the floor with the collar, but held onto the short leather lead. Sufjan sat back and put on his puppy dog eyes, and whimpered. He felt pathetic. His cock full, glorious, streaming clear precum, stood erect between his legs. It longed for contact, for swallowing, for deep flesh. But he knew, he was begging to suck on his boss's own meat.
"On the ground, boy!" He pull on the lead and jerked Sufjan's head to the floor, took a step forward. "Now lap me up bitch!"
Sufjan barked joyfully and he licked and licked the boss's genitals. Davie led him back against his desk, where he leant back and enjoyed ride. The mutt drank up his precum, lubricated his smooth balls. He swallowed the cockhead, the shaft and the base. He did his duty: he did it all. He whimpered and moaned and growled his way through it.
"Good dog, mmmm, gooood dooog... you want to fuck me don't you bitch? No fucking way... waste a good bitch like you? Mmm suck me good... fuck that's nice..."
Sufjan lapped up Davie's comments. He was going wild, desperate for attention, but he refused to pleasure his own cock.
"Mm... puppy, I'm gonna come... ohhhhhhhhhh!" Come flew from Mr. Davie. Sufjan pulled back and let it fire over his body, his shirt, his hips, his white skin. Then he licked it up like a Labrador drinking from a stream, wiping his tongue all over his boss's old skin.
"Good boy," Davie panted. He stroked Sufjan's head as it lay in his lap. "What's that boy? Oh, your cock is so hard, now look at that."
Sufjan growled. He whimpered. He looked up, bright-eyed and hopeful.
"Pity," Davie said, pulling up his pants and trousers. "Oh look, it's three o'clock. Sufjan, return to your office. When you come back in here, you will be a man again."
Sufjan crawled back to the door that led him to his office. On the other side, he stood up and took off his collar. He laid it in the filing cabinet. He felt a strange shame, a frustrated disappointment wash over him. His long, aching cock teased him. It asked him, who's the big man now, huh?
He walked over to his pile of limp clothes. The sunlight was fading into sunset and his office was gloomy.
He stepped his muscular frame into his briefs and pulled them up over his brick-hard dick. The soft material clasped tightly against his man-parts. It rubbed against his glans. Suddenly a wave of ice went through his blood and a sensuous orgasm burst through him.
"Ohh! Oh shhhiiit!" Pleasure errupted from the depths of his manhood and out into the cold underwear. He held onto his office chair for support as the strength was sapped from his knees. He breathed in quietly, then peeled off the wet briefs, cleaned his genitals with tissue, and sat in his high leather chair: alone, broken.
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