In fact, there was more than one message. One lay in the sheer happiness; of course, that could have been due to being underway in a sailing boat; she...knew he was always happiest when sailing but she thought it was more than that. Another lay in the choice of song. Again, she doubted if it was deliberate.She sat in the cockpit, watching his face, trained mostly forward, with glances aloft at the burgee or the sails but also at her. A gybe was necessary as they rounded the point to pass. Thinking back, I don't know if I planned it or not, but I suggested that he and I check out the sleeping cabin at the back of the property. So, with blankets on our shoulders and a candle to guide us, we walked back to the cabin and looked around inside. He finally laid down on a couch in the living room and I flopped onto one of the beds. We were both pretty high.I asked, "How are you feeling?" His reply was a surprise, " I feel like sucking you off!". My response? "Go for it"!He walked. Bruno was bouncing around expectantly and I’m sure he can tell when I’m feeling fruity and it gets him really worked up. I stroked and patted him telling him that ‘Mummy was going to get ready for him’ and that when I came back down I would be his ‘fuckslut for the day.’He was wagging his tail and trying to lick my face as I carried on telling him, “Yes aren’t you a good boy. Mummy’s going to go now and get all slutted up for you, and then when I come down I want your big, cock buried right up. I almost didn't pick up on the light stir of atmosphere that suddenly disturbed the stillness in the server room. I took a deep breath, dragging in a lungful of the dry and stale air.Something spicy-sweet tickled my nostrils, sending every cell of my body into instant alert. The scent was distant and elusive, nothing manufactured by men, breed, or any of the collective sciences. It was dusky warm, like cinnamon and vanilla, but to call it that only captured the smallest fraction of its.
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