Bad Dog - Too Bad It's Fake

I had been lying to her by omission for weeks about Benny being my dog, at the expense of a sweet little boy missing his dog.

It made me feel like a monster.

I wouldn’t blame her for thinking I had done it just to get into her pants. Mostly because I had, at least at first. Then I actually started to fall for her. Despite the fact that our relationship was based on a lie.

Ronda was quiet for a long time. There was really only one thing I could think to do, which was to keep babbling.

“I’m so sorry I lied about the dog. I was taking care of him, but he was never mine, even though I did get kind of attached. But everything I said was real, Ronda, I-”

“Warren isn’t my dog, either,” she blurted out suddenly, startling me.

“What?” I asked, in shock, genuinely confused.

“I lead you on. I mean, I lead you on, too, just like you lead me on, I guess. Warren isn’t mine. He belongs to my friend Sharon, who lives across the street.”

“The Scottish lady?” I asked.

“Yeah, she’s a friend of mine. I was actually wearing her dress on our first date. She did my hair and make-up too.”

“So your borrowed her dog – ”

“To be with you, so we would have something in common. When you said we should take our dogs to the park, I thought it was be the perfect opportunity to get to know you better, with both of us walking pitties at the park! I just thought you were so hot when I first saw you in the waiting room, I couldn’t let you out of my sight and would jump on any chance to se eyou again. But the way you were looking at me made it seem like you wanted me, too, and so I just… I spoke without thinking, to keep things going.”

“Oh, I wanted you from the moment I saw you too,” I confessed, “and that’s why I let you think Benny was my dog. So I would have a reason to see you. I completely understand.”

“You didn’t have to make up a reason,” she said, taking my hand.

“Neither did you,” I replied, squeezing her hand gently.

Suddenly, like lightning, we both burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all. Both of us using the dogs to get together when we could have just been honest to begin with.

“Truce?” I asked.

“Truce,” she said.

“No more lies, of omission or otherwise,” I proposed. “Now, come on, let’s go finish breakfast.”

A little while later, when we were done eating, I scraped my chair back from the table.

“How was it?” I asked, picking up Ronda’s empty plate.

“Scrumptious,” she said, leaning back in her chair and stretching, “but you really should have let me cook, though; you’re going to spoil me.”

“Poppycock, I like cooking. And I especially like that look you get on your face when eating something I’ve made,” I said, plunging my own dishes into the hot soapy water.

“What face?” she asked.

“Well-”

“Yes?”

“It looks a lot like a certain face you make in the bedroom,” I hedged.

“Oh really?” she asked, her wooden chair scrapping against the hardwood floor.

“Yeah, a bit,” I said.

“Want to be sure it’s the same face?” she asked, cupping my cock through my jeans.

By way of reply, I turned around and scooped her up into my arms, making her laugh with surprise. That laughter turned to contented silence, then slowly to soft moans as I kissed her all the way down the hall to the bedroom.

Ronda started stripping down as soon as I set her down on the bed. First her shirt and bra disappeared, revealing her beautiful tits, and then she started on her jeans, struggling a bit with the button. I reached over and did it for her, then whisked them down her hips.

Her jeans hit the floor followed quickly by her panties, rendering her naked and open before me. Removing my own jeans to even things out a bit, I knelt on the bed beside her. Ronda leaned over and wrapped her lips around the head of my rock-hard cock, sucking hard as I reached down fingered her tight little pussy, slipping my thumb down to give her asshole some love as well.

She tensed a bit, as if surprised by the new feeling, but didn’t object, closing her eyes with the added pleasure.

“I have something for you,” I said, gently stroking her cheek.

“Really?”

“Wait here,” I said, kissing her on the forehead.

Quick as I could, I got the box out of my jacket hanging up by the door and returned to the bed.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Open it.”

Untying the ribbon holding the box shut, Rona slid of the lid, putting it on the night table.

“Is that-”

“It’s called a butt plug, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” she said, as her cheeks turned pink and her eyes widened.