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My heart is thundering. I can feel the aching wetness between my thighs. I had hoped Dean would touch me there, too.
“Down on all fours.”
I drop to my knees and then place my palms on the dusty boards.
He says, “Crawl.”
I crawl in a slow circle before him, my face burning with embarrassment. It’s degrading and humiliating. My ass and pussy feel horribly exposed as I turn around. I can feel Dean looking down on me, and I wonder if he’s laughing at me in his head.
But he doesn’t laugh. When I chance a glance upward, I see his cock straining against the fly of his trousers, so thick that it looks like a soda can shoved down the front of his pants. A tiny wet spot soaks through the material where the head is pressed.
My mouth waters even more.
Quietly, Dean asks, “Do you know how to suck cock?”
I sit back on my heels, looking up at him. And shake my head.
“You’re going to learn.”
He pulls off his own sweater and lays it on the dusty ground. He sits down and whistles for me, pointing to the space next to him.
I start to stand up and he barks, “No!”
Understanding, I crawl over to him on hands and knees.
He grabs the ring of my collar and pulls my head down so I’m curled up next to him with my head in his lap. Then he unzips his trousers.
His cock springs out, as pale as the rest of him. The shaft is thick and white, veined like marble, while the head is smooth and faintly pink. Clear fluid beads at the tip. I want to taste it.
“Suck it like a popsicle,” he tells me. “Gently. Don’t scratch me with your teeth.”
His cock is bigger than any popsicle I ever put in my mouth. But I want to try.
I close my lips around the head. I lick it with my tongue, tasting the sharp spark of salt from that leaking fluid. More saliva floods my mouth, and I’m able to run my lips and tongue smoothly over his cock while I suck gently.
My head lays in his lap, my ear pressed against his thigh. Only part of his cock fits in my mouth, but Dean doesn’t force it any further. He lets me suck on the head while he strokes his fingers in my hair.
His touch is incredibly soothing. The sucking and his strong fingertips against my scalp put me in a trance state.
Dean takes the pins out of my hair so the curls are loose. He runs his fingers through the hair in slow, lazy swirls, sometimes with pressure, sometimes with light swoops.
Warmth floods through my body. Every muscle relaxes.
He’s petting me.
And I like it.
I keep sucking his cock.
After ten or twenty minutes, Dean reaches down between my thighs and rubs my pussy. He rubs me in time with my sucking. The harder and faster I suck his cock, the more pressure he applies against my clit.
I moan around his cock, grinding my pussy against his hand.
The dual sensation of his warm flesh in my mouth and his warm hand against my clit is phenomenally satisfying. I want to keep sucking and I want to keep grinding against him.
I feel half asleep, floating in this erotic dream-state where I’m a good little pet earning my reward.
After all, is it so bad to be a pet?
