Bad Dog - Too Bad It's Fake

Fortunately, I was saved from the wages of guilt by Sam. My knight in shining… wool? Cashmere? Whatever his suits are made of, I guess.

“This one,” he said, standing in front of a cage, holding a three-month-old Bichon-Maltese cross.

“They can be difficult to train,” the volunteer warned.

“I like a challenge,” Sam said, staring at the puppy with a gleeful expression.

“He hasn’t had his shots,” the volunteer said.

“Oh, I think we have that covered,” Sam said, grinning over at me.

“So, where do you think he should live?” I asked, carrying our new little bundle out to Sam’s Jeep.

“With me,” Sam said without missing a beat, “and so should you.”

“Really?” I asked, tears stinging my eyes.

“It’s been six months, honey. I think it’s time,” he said, with his characteristic quiet confidence.

“Agreed,” I said, snuggling our new pup, who happily proceeded to lick my face.

“What should we call him?” Sam asked.

“Fake,” I blurted, after a moment’s thought.

It sounded strange but it really did make sense, considering that it was having fake pets that had brought us together in the first. Now he was ours for real.

Sam and Jim had made up, once Jim had had some time to calm down. He had told Sam that he understood that this was just one of the crazy things people do for love. And he even thanked Sam for taking good care of Benny while Vicki warmed up to the idea of him and keeping him at his house even though Benny had destructive tendencies.

But now we had our own real pet, and I was sure that even though there was going to be a lot of destroyed furniture, but it would be worth it.

“Makes sense, under the circumstances,” Sam said, mulling this over for a moment. “But maybe we’ll give him a cute nickname, like Fakey.”

“Little Fakey,” I agreed, liking the sound of it.

It was no small thing, moving my stuff into Sam’s house. Luckily, he hired a moving company to do most of it for us, the only things we had to do being packing and unpacking all my stuff. I still saw Sharon regularly, stopping in for coffee on the way home from work during the week and longer visits on the weekends.

Fakey settled well into his new home and, despite some stubbornness when it came to the concept of being walked, sitting down every few step on the first few attempts, he took to training fairly well. We never had a single mess on the rug, though, so Sam liked to joke that the pup had come house trained.

When the move was finished, with all my stuff added to Sam’s stuff in his giant house, we decided to have a 1980s Fantasy film marathon, my idea that Sam was grudgingly going along with, each cheesier than the last. He had campaigned pretty hard for his collection of classic horror films but when it came right down to it, I won the coin toss fair and square.

“What do we do now?” I asked, when the last movie had finished, Fakey long ago tucked into bed in his crate.

Sam turned and looked at me, with a particular glare in his eye. He didn’t even have to touch me for me to get the message.

“Race ya!” we said in unison.

That time we made it all the way up the stairs and into the bedroom, Sam close behind me all the way. I made it to the bed first, yanking off my pants as soon as I hit the mattress. Sam was in hot pursuit, his shirt already off and his pants in progress.

We kissed passionately, only breaking so that he could pull off my shirt. I had all but stopped wearing a bra when at home. Working his way over my chin, Sam kissed his way down my neck and down to my tits, working his magic with his mouth and tongue, a hand tucked up between my thighs.

Slipping a finger inside my pussy, he kept working my rock-hard nipples with his lips and tongue as he fingered me.

His hands worked their deliciously dirty magic, making pleasure crest inside me rapidly.

I came hard, shuddering against him.

He held me while I came down from the bliss, kissing me all over, letting me know I was truly loved.

Laying me down, Sam started at my feet, gently sucking my toes, before working his way up my legs, kissing and licking every inch of my skin. Arriving at my thighs, he kissed his way up to my pussy, slowly lowering his head between my legs and running his tongue the length of my pussy lips several times, working my clit deftly with his tongue until I nearly screamed with joy.

Pleasure built inside me again and I knew I was close once more. His tongue worked in magic little circles around my clit, and with each pass, the ecstasy builds until I reach a second, screaming climax.