Author's Comment: This story was written for my Puppy who calls me her Sir. I am keeping the title for the Owner in the story even though I've gotten comments expressing confusion about her gender. I am sure there are other women out there would enjoy being called Sir if some beautiful young thing whimpered it the way my Puppy does.
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I was standing by the sink with my hands deep in the sudsy water. The sound of the water through the faucet was so loud that I didn't hear Puppy pad across the kitchen tile. I did feel her presence when she settled to rest at my feet. I didn't acknowledge her; instead I continued to scrub the pans in front of me. I heard her whining softly. I smiled. Puppy wanted attention. I dote on her far too often. A friend of mine trains with firm military precision and she likes to offer me advice. While I appreciate the beauty of a well trained pup, I was first drawn to her precocious nature. My puppy nips and mouths at me. She's forever rolling around and I enjoy watching her play. However, she requires a great deal of patience and at that moment, she needed to know that it was not play time yet.
Without moving to look at her, I spoke over my shoulder, "I need to finish this first." I received an unhappy bark in return. I shook my head and continued. This is the part that is the hardest for me. I didn't look down at her face but I knew how she was kneeling next to me. I knew she was looking up, fidgeting but not bold enough to move from her position. My puppy has a deep brown face with round lips that she licks when she's irritated. She's lean, with small pear shaped breasts and wide set hips. She has a head full of braids that she pulled back into pigtails because she knows how much I enjoy tugging them. I thought about tugging at her now and taking her out into the backyard.
We play outside when the neighbors are sleeping. There is a tree on the edge of the yard away from the streetlights. I take her behind it and she'll roll in the grass until her skin is wet with dew. I'll tie her to the tree, wrapping around, pressing her back into the trunk. I watch her struggle to free herself. It excites me to watch her thrash until she has tiny bleeding scrapes all over her body. She pants and growls to herself, desperate get free. If she does break free, she falls to the ground with a sloppy grin as if to say, "Alright, what are we doing next?" I was thinking about her, naked in the wet grass, exhausted and bruised when I felt myself getting wet.
I became aware of the fact that I was naked underneath my nightgown. I could hear Puppy bark so I looked at her. She could probably smell me and I was embarrassed at how fast my body betrayed me. I'm supposed to be cool and collected. I was a little angry at her for turning me on so much simply by being there. As I watched her, I saw an impish flash in her eyes for a moment before she became the picture of innocence. But I know what I saw and I wasn't fooled. "What are you up to?" I said with a smirk that was also a warning. My puppy simply blinked at me. Then, never breaking eye contact with me, Puppy crawled forward and I watched her head disappear under my night gown. Before I could speak, I felt her nip just where the bottom of my ass meets the back of my thigh.