Puppy Curiosity Pt. 01

Author's note: While this story is pure fiction, I recently have been curious about Puppy Play, so I decided to do what I do, and write about it. I have been researching and what not, but as always, I welcome critiques.

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I have been struggling with life for a while now. I was suddenly all alone in my two bedroom house, and I won't go into why or how, but it's been a terrible year.

My job was finally starting up again, and I was able to go to work every day, which helps, but at home, in the evening, I was left alone and to my thoughts.

I made a decision in January that I couldn't stay where I was at. I need a new fresh start as a new fresh guy. For some reason, I decided to move to Washington. It was across the country from me, and I decided to apply for a couple jobs and managed to snag one.

My last two weeks of my job came and went, I sold nearly everything in my house except for what I could pack in my car as what I determined were essentials.

I have been saving money for the past 6 months, so when the day came to start my 4 day drive, I packed my car, hugged my friends goodbye, and started out down the road.

Two weeks later, I hadn't started my job yet, and still had another two weeks before I did so I spent my days exploring the cities I live in and nearby.

I had a small studio apartment, which is what I wanted, and enough furniture to call it home, most of which I found at second hand stores.

I found myself at a bar, just observing the behavior of others and sipping on a coke, I wasn't much of a drinker.

A burly man soon approaches me as I was sitting all alone in a corner. I was wearing a t-shirt and jeans with a simple leather vest. Yes, it was THAT kind of bar. My new life meant I could be anyone I wanted to, so I was.

"Hey there, names Mike, what's yours?"

"Oh, Um, my name is Mason," as I stuck out my hand.

He shakes it and asks, "mind if I join you? Sitting here all alone doesn't look nearly as fun as you're trying to make it."

"Um sure." I reply, scooting over in the seat I'm on.

He sits down, and we sit in awkward silence because I'm a weirdo who can't talk to people very well. I always say the wrong thing, or at least think I do.

He finally reaches over, sets his hand on my knee, "I come here often, you don't look familiar, are you new here?"

"That's your line? Pretty generic," I say as I laugh.

"No, that's not my line, just trying to make small talk." His face changes from friendly to annoyed in a second.

"I'm sorry, I, just, am really weird around new people." I stammer through.

His face changes again, he cracks a smile, "that's okay, you just need a bit of training. Here, give me your phone."

I look at him, he makes a face that he better not have to ask again, so I fish out my phone and he programs his number in, calls his own phone, and hands it back to me.

"There, if you decide you want that training, just send me a text, Mason. Have a good night, be careful though, things can get a little rough around here late at night."

He gets up from the bench we're sitting on, and walks away. I see a few other guys eyeing me as he walks away, suddenly I feel like a broken fawn surrounded by a pack of lions. I scoot from the bench and leave the bar, rushing to my car and driving home.

I sat in my apartment, which had a decent view of the water, and something he said sounded interesting, "training," as he called it. I wonder what he meant. I know what that word meant to me, I was into the BDSM scene, after all, I was in a leather bar.

I brushed it off as him making a joke and went to sleep. The following week came and went and nothing exciting happened, and as I was feeling particularly horny and needing some attention, I texted him.

"Hey there, it's Mason."

He texted back, "yes Mason? I programmed your number in my phone, are you ready for that training?"

"Um, I was really hoping I could just come over? I'm really craving some man on man attention."

"Bold, honest, I like it," He sent back.

His address came in right after and he only lived thirty minutes from me. I drove over and parked in the garage, and rang his floor on the elevator. He lived in an apartment building on the 9th floor.

When I approached his door, I suddenly got nervous. It had been too long since I had been with a man, submissive or not, and didn't know what to expect. I knocked on the door anyway and waited on trembling knees.

The door swings open and he's standing there in leather football shorts, all black, with padding on the thighs, waving me into the room. I walk in, and I'm in a decent sized living room, and as I look around, I see a dog bed and toys piled up next to it.

"You have a dog?" I ask.

"Not anymore. I just haven't gotten around to cleaning this up. Here, take a seat, you thirsty?"

He sits down on the couch, motions next to me, "No, I'm good. Thanks." I say as I sit down.

"So," he says, "you just wanted some male attention? I'm afraid I'm not into vanilla sex. I'm into leather and domination, so if you just want someone to poke your little holes, then you might want to find someone else. The door is always open for you to leave."

"Oh, um, that's fine. I'm a submissive, so I'm good with all that. Remember, I met you in a leather bar?" I reply, confidently.

"Yes, well, they don't always run hand in hand there boy. You're a submissive? Let's see how well you follow directions then. Get off the couch and get on your knees in front of me."

I do, and he reaches down, grabs the bottom of my shirt, pulls it up over my head, and tosses it on the opposite chair, "go fold that shirt boy. Stay on your hands and knees."

I crawl over to the chair, fold my shirt, and come back to him, sitting on my heels in front of him.

"Hm, just as I thought, a little chunky, good. I like a little meat to hold on to, I always felt I'd break a twink if I really handled him." He said as he ran his hands up and down my chest, pinching my nipples. My jeans holding my erection back a little, but still pushing a tent up.

He reaches down, grabs my erection through my jeans, and I moan.

"Stand up." He commands, with a deep voice like he could control the weather if he stood outside and screamed at the sky.

I do so and he pulls down my pants, and I'm wearing my Neoprene Jock Shorts. They are red and black, my ass completely exposed, and a codpiece barely containing my little erection.

"Very nice, step out of these jeans," he says, tossing them over to the chair, "go fold those too boy."

I do so, walking over to the chair, folding the jeans, and returning to him, he snaps his fingers, and I'm unsure what that means.

"When I snap my fingers, that means I want you down on your knees. Understand?"

"Yes Sir." I say as I drop to my knees.

He leans back, pulls open his shorts and grabs his cock and balls. His cock isn't one of those jaw dropping dicks, you know, 9 inches, thick like a beer can type statements that you usually get. He's a respectable 6.5 inches and not overly thick. I've never been a "size" queen, just know how to use it, and get hard.

He just looks at me, and I lean forward, but he puts his hand on my forehead, "no, no, you must wait to be invited to play with my dick."

I sit back on my heels, frustrated, but I wait. He just stares at me, as if he's reading my soul through my eyes. He slowly strokes himself, pushing his skin up and down his hard cock, and I'm starting to drool.

He pushes upwards and a small drop of precum glistens the top of the head, "Lick".

I lean forward and brush my tongue against the head, grabbing the drop and swallowing it.

He pats the couch next to him, and I get up on it, sitting on my butt and just waiting. I feel like I'm staring at my most favorite thing, but I'm not allowed to touch it, when all I want to do is touch it.

"No, get up on your hands and knees." He commands.

I do so, and he finally pushes my head down onto his cock, I take it in my mouth, greedily, I might add, as I finally get it. He moans as I take him as far down as I can go.

He rubs his hand over my back side, slowly rubbing over my ass and lower back, "that's a good boy. Keep licking that bone."

I pick up my speed, and he starts to massage my exposed hole with his fingers. He never pushes into me, but he gets close, and I'm pushing my hips back into him.

"Come on, I'm close, I'm going to cum, eat my cum, come on, be a good boy, don't make a mess." As he starts bucking his hips and filling my mouth with his thick cum. He grunts, shudders, and holds my head in place.

I finally lift off his cock as it softens in my mouth, "on your back." So I flip over, he pulls my codpiece off, exposing my hard cock. He takes it in his hand and strokes it.

"You've been a good boy, you deserve a reward. You get to cum for me now."

He picks up pace, reaching down and pinching a nipple, my head resting on his thigh, and I'm getting close. I start shooting my cum and it spurts out of me and a little lands on my stomach, but most is on his hand. He lets me finish, and as my chest is rising and falling rapidly, he moves his hand over to my mouth, "clean."

I lick the cum off his hands, he sticks his fingers in my mouth and I suck on them, he then scoops up my cum from my stomach and pulls my jaw down with his free hand, he lets the cum fall into my mouth, and I swallow it.

He rubs my stomach, "that's a good boy. Now get dressed and get going. I'll be in touch."

He puts his junk away, I snap on the codpiece, and walk over to my clothes and begin dressing.

I'm standing at the door, waiting for him, and he walks over to me.

"From now on, if you're in my home, you'll be on all fours unless invited to stand, you also need to wear those jock shorts, and that's all you'll wear when you're here. Understand?"

"Yes Sir. Um, I hate saying it because it always sounds funny, but thank you Sir."

"Yes, it does, but you're welcome, you did well. Maybe you won't need as much training as I thought you did. I'll get a hold of you later. Get going."

I left his apartment, satisfied, and feeling something strange. I felt like I just wanted to turn back, go to him, and lay down next to him. I've never felt that way before with anyone, so it was a new feeling.

I got back home, and thought through what just happened. He rubbed my ass, kept calling me a good boy, rubbed my stomach, which was oddly enjoyable. I shake my head, whatever, I thought to myself, probably just his "unique style" as a dom.

A few days go by and I start going to work finally. I am going through the daily routines, and when I'm getting my stuff together, I get a text from Mike, "Hey cutie, wanna meet me for dinner? Say 5:30?"

I look down at the text, and reply back, "Um sure, where?"

He texts me an address, and I google it, and it's a local cafe. I head to my apartment first as I'm usually done with work and home by 3:30. I dress in my neoprene shorts, just in case, and regular jeans and my button down from work. I arrive at the cafe a little early, and he's already there, in the corner booth, and even though there's plenty of people, there is no one sitting near him.

I approach and scoot into the booth after he taps the seat to his right, "good boy." He whispers in my ear as he places his hand on my lower back.