Doggies Don't Wear Clothes

They'd just gotten done with body-pump class and showered and decided to go across the street to the coffee house. Adam ordered a dark roast, black, no cream. Lily and Craig both ordered nutty caramel lattes, which made them laugh as always. They joked again that maybe Craig and Lily, not Adam and Lily, should be the married ones.

They made conversation. "We finished the basement," said Adam. "Put in a full bathroom, drywall, wall-to-wall carpet. Place looks great."

"You act like you did it yourself," said Lily, "instead of hiring a company."

"You could have hired me," said Craig. "I'd've given you a deal."

"We still couldn't afford you," said Adam. "A writer and a high-school teacher don't make too much money."

"I'd've found a way to make it pay," said Craig. "How's it look? Not some brother-in-law job, I hope."

Craig had never been to Adam and Lily's house. Checking out the new basement seemed as good an excuse as any. Adam and Lily drove home in their Honda Accord, Craig following in his Ford F-150. Adam parked the Honda as close to the garage door as possible to give Craig's Ford the room needed to fit in the driveway.

Downstairs, now, with Craig examining the bathroom, sipping what was left of his latte. "Pretty good. I'd've gotten you set up with tile, though. Both for the floor and the shower. You wouldn't have had to go with linoleum."

"I suppose," said Adam. Even with a deal, tile would probably have cost too much. They spent a few more minutes in the bathroom, Craig asking questions about plumbing, grout, wiring, Adam trying to answer. Guy talk was a chore. He hardly ever knew what to say.

They came out of the bathroom to the television room. The room had the new-carpet smell of castor oil. Lily was sitting on the broad, blue couch, sipping her own latte. She wore dark-rimmed glasses, her hair in a bun, comfy sweatpants and sweatshirt. She looked exactly like a high-school teacher relaxing on the weekend, which is what she was. "Thought you boys would never get done in there. What were you doing in there, anyway?"

"Mostly schooling Adam on how he got ripped off," said Craig. Then he punched Adam in the shoulder, just hard enough, to show he was only kidding.

"Hey," said Craig, stepping away from Adam, a weird smile on his face. "What's this I hear about you getting a new dog?"

Lily sighed sharply. Adam raised his eyebrows. "This is the first I've heard of it," he said.

"All right, Craig," said Lily. She was clearly annoyed. Then she spoke to Adam. "Adam. Look at me." He did. "Doggies don't wear clothes: Strip, doggie."

Adam's mouth fell open, and the noise "uh" escaped. His face slackened, and his eyes glazed and widened. He pulled his sweatshirt over his head, kicked off his gym shoes, pulled down his pants and underwear and stepped out of them. For a moment he was wearing nothing but white socks, but then those came off, too.

Adam stood nude in front of his wife and his wife's friend. The downstairs was cool, so his cock and balls were small. And shaved bare, just as Lily had told Craig they would be.

"Jesus Christ," said Craig. He studied Adam's eyes. Adam stared back expectantly, like a friendly barista waiting for an order. "I don't fucking believe it. Is he faking?"

"No," said Lily. "He's really under."

Craig walked around Adam, his eyes running over the body of Lily's husband. "Can he hear us? See us?"

"He can," said Lily. "I mean, he's sort of sleeping. Well, except he's still awake and listening, but it's not really him, anymore. He's this other thing, now. He wouldn't be much use to me if he were just asleep."

"'Use to you,'" said Craig. "Yeah, I bet." Craig stood at Adam's side, running his fingers down Adam's torso. Adam shivered. His cock stirred, then lengthened.

"Well, there's something going on down there," Craig said. He ran his fingers lightly up and down Adam's side, his back, his thighs. Adam shivered but said nothing.

Lily watched Craig walk around Adam. Adam was tall, pale, almost lanky. Not much body hair. Large hands with long, delicate fingers and big feet. He used to be simply skinny, but a regular gym regimen over the last few years had toned him up nicely. Craig was about a head shorter than Adam. Short and meaty but not fat. He had a workingman's thick build and ruddy coloring. She liked the contrast—her delicate English-looking husband and their sturdy Irish-seeming friend. She wondered what Craig was going to look like naked.

Lily and Adam had met Craig about three months ago during body-pump class. Adam had farted noisily picking up the bar, Craig had laughed, and Lily made some weird joke about too much air getting up there. Lily and Craig had hit it off pretty well. Lily came from a family of contractors and workingmen, so she knew how to talk with Craig. Adam went along with it. Usually all three of them hit the class and then got coffee, but sometimes Adam needed to sleep in, so it'd be just Lily and Craig working out and then talking over lattes. And that's how Craig learned how Lily made money on the side, by whoring out her unwilling and unknowing husband.

Craig hadn't touched Adam's cock—Lily guessed he probably wouldn't at all—but it was standing straight out, a bead of pre-cum at the tip. Craig looked nearly as dazed as Lily's husband. "Jesus. So this is real," he muttered. "So now what?"

Lily knew exactly now what. "Are you sure you want this?" she said, knowing that the burrito-sized erection in Craig's jeans was screaming God, yes. Craig inhaled and nodded sharply. Lily could see his pulse racing in his neck.

"Doggie," said Lily. "This man in front of you needs a blowjob. Be a good doggie and make him happy."

Adam got on his knees, unbuttoned Craig's jeans, unzipped his fly, and tugged his pants halfway down his thighs. Then he pulled down Craig's gray boxer-briefs, and Craig's cock sprung out and bopped Adam in the nose. Craig's cock was thick, ruddy, and circumcised. Not as long as Adam's, but definitely wider. His balls were a tight little sac hidden in thick, brown hair.

Adam put his nostrils against the head of Craig's wet cock and took several slow, deep breaths. Then Adam grasped the cock, squeezed it lightly, and rubbed his thumb beneath the base of the head until beads of precum came out. Then Adam rubbed it all over his face.

"Why's he doing that?" Craig asked.

"He's marking himself," said Lily. "With your scent. It turns him on. And it means you're his boss."

"His boss, huh," Craig said. He liked that. He liked it a lot. "Have him keep doing that."

"Tell him yourself," Lily said. "I'm his owner, but you're his boss. He'll do anything you want."

Craig peered thoughtfully at Adam, then cleared his throat. "Adam—"

"'Doggie,'" said Lily. "He doesn't know who 'Adam' is. You have to call him 'Doggie.'"

Craig nodded and cleared his throat again. "Doggie. Keep rubbing my cock all over your face. Get my smell all over your face." He spoke carefully, clearly. "I'm your boss," he added.

Lily smiled. Every time new guys tried out her husband, they used a tone both commanding and insecure. It took a long time for new guys to relax into it, to accept that, yes, this mind-fucked puppet would do anything they wanted him to do.

After about a minute, Craig said "Stop, Doggie." Adam let go of Craig's cock. Craig stepped back and shed his shoes, pants, and socks. "You mind if I sit down?" he asked Lily, gesturing at the couch.

"Hold on," she said. "Doggie, lay out a towel for our guest." Adam walked on his knees to a wicker chest at one end of the couch. He pulled out a dark blue towel and laid it across a cushion. Then she said to Craig, "Now you can sit."

Craig set his firm, squat frame down between Lily on the couch and Adam on the floor, his cock pointed up. "Doggie," he said. "Suck."

Adam brought his mouth to Craig's cock. He began by kissing the head tenderly, his lips providing light suction. Soon his tongue came out, running over the head and then the shaft. Adam looked up at Craig, his big brown eyes watery and horny and eager to please.

This made Craig uncomfortable. "Doggie, don't look at me. Just blow me."

Adam turned down his eyes and pleasured Craig's cock.

"Self conscious?" said Lily, smirking.

"I'm no faggot," said Craig. "I just want a blowjob."

Lily got down off the couch. "Tell me if this is okay," she said to Craig. She put her hand on the back of Adam's head and brought her mouth to his ear. "Good doggie," she cooed. "You're being such a good, dumb, horny doggie. Doggie loves cock, doesn't he?"

"What're you doing?" asked Craig.

"He needs encouragement," said Lily. "Positive reinforcement. Doggie training."

Craig pursed his lips thoughtfully. It made sense. He owned three dogs himself.

Lily kept cooing praise into Adam's ear, sometimes scratching his head and running her fingers along his back. Every so often she would reach down and trace her fingers along the crack of his ass. Once or twice she grazed his balls. But she never touched his cock. She didn't need to. Strings of pre-cum oozed from Adam's cockhole, pooling on top of the carpet.

Craig's breathing quickened. His thighs tensed, and a light sweat bloomed on his chest. It was going to happen soon. "Good doggie," he started muttering. "That's a good fucking doggie. Make me cum, doggie."

Craig grunted. He grabbed Adam's head and started pounding his crotch into it. Lily wasn't surprised. She figured Craig for a skullfucker. The shorter guys usually were, acting like they had something to prove. Which she guessed they did.

Craig's eyes scrunched tight, his toes clenched, and he lifted his hips off the couch as he finally blew. He pulled Adam's face down hard on his crotch and held it there, forcing his cock in as far as he could. "Take my fucking spunk, you stupid faggot doggie. Take all my fucking spunk in your mouth, you fucking faggot." Not for the first time, Lily was grateful she had worked to suppress Adam's gag reflex.

Then Craig was done. He pulled Adam's head off his cock, pushed him away, and lay back on the couch with his forearms covering his head. His reddened, glistening cock began to shrink. He was breathing heavily and covered in sweat. Adam burped up a little air, then swallowed, a teaspoon of Craig's spunk sliding down his esophagus into his belly.

"Does it burn going down, doggie?" asked Lily.

"A little, Ma'am," said Adam, present but distant at once.

"Jesus fucking Christ," said Craig, sitting upright, now suspicious. "What the hell. He can talk?"

"Only when we let him," said Lily. "I asked him a direct question, he had to answer."

"So he's not awake?"

"No, he's not. Well, he's not Adam right now. I mean, it's really not like he's asleep. He's someone else right now. He's doggie."

Craig took this in. This was all just way too fucked up.

"All right," he said. "Hey. This was fun. But I'm gonna go. You know?" He stood and began putting his pants on.

"Sure, not a problem," said Lily. She'd known this would happen. Craig's curiosity satisfied, his homophobic fantasy fulfilled. Now he was out of here, away from this crazy woman and her fucking freak of a husband.

He pulled up his pants, looked Lily in the eyes. He wouldn't look at Adam. "So this is all real? He's not faking it?"

"That's what I said."

Craig nodded tightly. "All right," he said.

She showed Craig out the side door, watched his truck back out the driveway quickly. He didn't quite peel off, but it was close.

As she walked downstairs, she mulled over what Craig was probably thinking: Get me out of here. I'll never fucking come back. Goddamn it, I'm not a faggot.

But then give it a week or so. The shame would fade. Craig would remember what it felt like—not just the physical sensations but also the thrill of having a whole other person do exactly what you wanted. No negotiation, no uncertainty, no ability to say no—just give an order and it's done. Craig was the kind of guy who mostly took orders, not gave them. Give a guy like Craig the chance to give orders, well—that's like a drug to a guy like that. Craig would be back.

Lily stepped into the room. Adam was on the floor, waiting. She sat on the couch where Craig had been and shucked off her sweatpants and panties. She kept her cute little pink booties on—her feet would get cold, otherwise.

She could smell her own musk. Adam's straining cock told her that he did, too. "Doggie," she said. "Make me cum."

Adam brought his head to her lap. Her rich, brisk scent filled his nostrils, taking him down deeper. Lily closed her eyes and rubbed Adam's head. She replayed what she had just seen: the amazement in Craig's blue eyes, his thick cock springing up to hit Adam's nose, skullfucking his cum into Adam's belly. She had noticed that Adam's balls jerked in rhythm to Craig's pounding of his head. Another memory for the pile.

Adam's tongue ran along her labia, toyed with her clitoris, poked into the entrance of her vagina. As always, she was grateful that Adam's knowledge of pleasing her had transferred into doggie's open and willing brain. Muscle memory of the tongue, she guessed.

As he licked, she remembered the pool of precum Adam had oozed onto the floor. She'd need to make him lick it up. Then she'd make him dress and say the phrase that would put doggie away and bring Adam back. He wouldn't remember anything. He'd just know Craig had come over, they'd had a stilted conversation about home maintenance, and then Craig had left. Adam would have a little heartburn, which he'd blame it on the coffee. Again.

Lily put these thoughts aside. She conjured up Craig's cock springing free and Adam wrapping his lips around it. "Good doggie, that's my good doggie," she murmured, both to the doggie at her pussy and the doggie in her mind. And then she shuddered, and grunted, and gave off clenched screams as she fought for every last second of her orgasm. When she couldn't take it any more, she put her heels up against her doggie's shoulders and pushed him back on his ass. She lay there on the couch, breathing heavily, coming down. She realized she still had her glasses on.

"Good doggie," she said, eyes open but not really seeing. "That's a good, good doggie."