Georgie The Good Doggy

George Thomas Ford was an absolute asshole! He was the retail store owner. He was a round fellow, with white beard. He is often thought of by his employees as the Evil Santa. In fact, he would dress as Santa Claus during the last weekend before Christmas, faking a jovial "Ho, Ho, Ho," and taking little children on his lap, asking, "Have you been naughty or nice?" The kids loved him because he really did look and sound like Santa Claus.

George went by Butch. He thought it made him sound more masculine. Butch had posted the time table in the employee lounge. Mark Zukowski was livid! He had requested Wednesday off. Butch had approved that leave last week. Fuming, Mark charged into Butch's office.

"There's a mistake with my schedule, Butch. You agreed to give me Wednesday off."

"I don't recall making such an agreement, Mark. I don't have any leave request forms from you." Butch leaned back, folding his chubby fingers over his round gut.

"We talked about it and you said it'll be alright, that you'll put it on the calendar." Mark was practically shouting.

"Keep your voice down, Mark. I repeat, I don't recall discussing this at all." There was a smirk on Butch's face.

"You fucking asshole! You recall damn well. I won't take this. You've been toying with me ever since I got hired."

"I won't stand for such language in my store. There are ways of doing things in a business, Mr. Zukowski, and shouting and cursing are not acceptable. You know the procedures. Fill out a request form and I'll review it. This is a verbal warning, Mr. Zukowski. One more outburst and your employment will be terminated."

Mark struggled to control his rage. It took him months to get a job. He couldn't afford to lose this one, at least not until the economy recovered. "I apologize, Mr. Ford. If I submit a request form right now, do you think you could approve my leave on Wednesday?" Mark kept his eyes averted because he couldn't rid himself of the desire to punch Butch in the nose.

Butch read Mark's averted eyes as submission. He grinned. "Well, let's check the calendar, Mark. I'm afraid we're shorthanded that day already. Losing one person could overly burden the staff. The holidays are already a stressful time of the year, Mark. You understand, of course."

Mark's fists clenched, trembling with the fury he struggled to contain. "What if I can find someone to switch days with me?"

"Well, of course, Mark. I am a reasonable guy. If you can find someone to switch with, I'd be happy to adjust the work schedule." Butch smiled benevolently, superior to inferior.

Mark nodded his head and stalked out without a word. He spent all day asking his co-workers to switch days with him. None of them took the bait. He called others who were off that day, and they too refused. He wanted to cry. He had to have Wednesday off. His mother was undergoing surgery that day.

At the end of the day, Mark lingered to speak with Butch again. He entered the office and pleaded, "Mr. Ford, my mom is having surgery on Wednesday, breast cancer you see. I need to be there with her. Couldn't you make an exception?"

"I gather none of your co-workers agreed to switch with you? This time of year is very tough, Mark. Your co-workers have seniority and so their schedules are pretty well set. I'm sure they sympathize with your situation, much as I do, but I'm also sure they have already made plans." Butch laid his stubby fingers on the edge of his desk and put on a semblance of sympathy on his round face. People who didn't know him well were easily fooled by his many semblances. He took full advantage of his jovial Santa Claus appearance.

"Perhaps we could come to an arrangement. I do so much want to help you, Mark."

"What kind of arrangement?"

"Why don't you sit on Santa's lap and we can discuss it?" Butch rolled his chair back away from his desk. His fleshy thighs were sheathed in gray slacks, a suggestive fold in the crotch. He spread his thighs apart and patted the right thigh, winking at Mark. He spread the fingers of his left hand loosely on his left thigh, his gold wedding ring stood out against the gray.

Mark was disgusted. He wasn't into chubby man, especially sleazy chubby man. So sexual harassment really does occur, he thought quietly. Did Butch plan this? He had never told Butch that he was gay, but he did tell several of his co-workers. So you want to play, Butch? I can play this game too.

Mark stepped in front of Butch, staring down at the fat man. Butch looked up with a glint in his eyes. The fold in his crotch rose an inch. Before Butch could reach out, Mark sat himself down on the desk and kicked off his right shoe. He pressed his socked foot into Butch's crotch, feeling the short, fat cock twitch. Butch let out a gasp. Mark slipped his toes below the testicles and tapped them. They were small but firm. Butch moaned.

Roughly Mark kneaded his boss's genitals, not letting up for a second. Butch gasped, moaned, groaned, whimpered, and tossed his head about. This wasn't what he had planned. He told himself to stop Mark, to grab his foot, kick the chair back, yell. But instead he sat helplessly as Mark tortured his loins. He was horrified that his cock was so hard that it hurt. He could feel a wetness against the flesh of his bulb. He began to pant like a dog.

"Please stop! Please, oh, I'm so close!" Butch began to panic as he neared climax. His slacks were an expensive pair. Besides, how could he go home to his wife with cum stained pants? Fuck, he had to go to the grocery store. He had to stop Mark. He had to roll down his pants. But Mark showed no mercy, kneading with his toes and heel, stroking with the sole.

Butch threw back his head and panted heavily, desperate for some semblance of control. He couldn't stand feeling helpless. And yet, his cock was harder than it has ever been in his fifty odd years. He felt the pressure in his gut. "Please stop! I beg you. Not in my pants. Please!" He couldn't stop Mark. He couldn't stop his imminent orgasm. "Fuck!" he cried out. He gripped the arms of his chair, knuckles white, willing himself not to cum. I'm in control, he repeated in his mind. But his throbbing cock belied his mental chanting.

"Oh, fuck! I'm cumming! God, I'm cumming in my pants! Fuck!" Butch roared as he felt his hot semen spurt against the fabric of his boxers and slacks. Mark rolled the cock around against the fabric, spreading the wetness. Butch bulked his hips as the sensitive head of his penis scraped against wet fabric and the hardness of Mark's sole. Butch felt warm, sticky wetness on his cock, balls, between the thighs, hips, and his pubic hair. Strangely, all of these sensations stimulated his orgasm, making him spew his juices longer than he had ever had.

With a grunt, Butch slouched as the last drops dripped from his piss slit. His head hung slack-jawed, arms dangly against the sides of the chair. He stared as Mark's foot, sock wet with cum, was pulled out of view and revealed the state of his crotch. The bulge had vanished as his cock softened. He was soaked. The cum had soaked through the entire pelvic area. He couldn't help but marvel at this. He had cum before in his boxers, wetting only the crotch. Fuck, he thought.

To Butch's shock, Mark's foot reappeared in his downcast view. The foot rose up slowly toward his face. For some reason, he couldn't react. He couldn't pull back his head or close his jaw. He could only watch as the foot neared, his eyes bulging. Even as the toes entered his mouth, he remained frozen. He could taste the salty wetness of the sock as Mark wriggled his toes against Butch's tongue. That undescribable, organic scent of cum filled his nostrils.

What the fuck are you doing? he screamed to himself as he started sucking on the toes, sucking the juices from the sock. He panted. He licked his tongue from toe to heel. Desperately he kissed, licked and sucked Mark's foot. His mouth followed as Mark pulled his foot back and lowered it to the floor. Butch was down on his hands and knees, Mark's upraised toes firmly in his mouth.

Mark stared down on Butch, amazed at what he saw. Butch freed himself of his wet pants and boxers as he sucked Mark's foot. He reared back on his hunches and stuffed his own boxers in his mouth, sucking on the juices, frantically jerking his fat cock with a thumb and index finger. He did the same with the crotch of his pants. He shot another load on Mark's foot. Butch threw his pants away and dove for Mark's foot, licking and sucking up his second load.

Mark had enough. He raised his wet foot and pushed the side of Butch's head, kicking him away. Butch lay panting on his side, staring up at Mark, mortified. "We suspected you were a pervert." Mark spat on Butch, who remained still, eyes frozen in disbelief. Mark pulled out his cock. Even soft, it was longer than Butch's hard-on, though not as fat. "You like the taste of cum? I got a good load but you'll have to work for it."

Butch crawled hastily over to Mark, mouth agape. Mark held out his arm. "I think we still have an arrangement to make, don't we?"

"You could have Wednesday off, Mark. Ok? Now, let me have that load. I gotta have it."

"Put it on the calendar right now. I want you to write a note stating you approved this leave and sign it. I want a copy of it." Butch motioned Mark to step aside so he could access his computer. Mark sat down on Butch's chair. He watched as Butch typed away, his shirt and jacket hanging over his buttocks. Butch grabbed a printout and signed it. He turned around and handed it over to Mark.

"Good. Now take off your shirt and jacket but keep your tie on."

"I kept my part of the arrangement. Now give me the fucking load!" Butch yelled.

"I don't think you understand our arrangement. You still believe you're the boss, that you're in charge. But you see, I'm in charge now. You do what I say and you get what you crave." Mark stroked his soft cock and then pulled out his balls for Butch to see. They were fine balls. Mark tapped his balls and said, "It's been a few days since I last came. I'm sure there's a big load waiting in here."

Butch groaned. He couldn't believe himself. He stripped off his shirt and jacket. His paisley tie hung around his neck like a collar and leash. Butch was a naked snowman, round head, round torso, and round legs.

"Now, hold out the end of your tie to me." Butch glared at Mark, who tapped his balls suggestively. With a deep breath, Butch held out his tie. Mark took it and yanked, pulling Butch closer. Butch tried to break for Mark's cock, but Mark held him back with an outstretched arm to the forehead. "Now, now. Patience, Georgie." Butch growled. "Bad doggy. If you don't behave, you won't get your treat." Butch ceased growling.

"Good, Georgie. Hold up your paws and pant, with your tongue sticking out." Butch debated telling Mark to go fuck himself, but he could smell the mustiness of Mark's cock. And those balls held such promises. He held up his hands, wrists and fingers limp, stuck his tongue out, and panted. 'Wag your tail." Butch shook his ass back and forth. "Roll over and play dead." Butch rolled on to his back and raised his legs and arms, his leash stretching up to Mark's hand.

"This makes you hard, doesn't it?" Mark noticed, grinding his foot against Butch's once again hard cock. Butch moaned, partly due to the pleasure but also because he was horrified with himself. "Sit." Butch sat up on his hunches. Mark stroked his own cock, letting it harden. "You want this, don't you? You want to drink my juice, yes?" Butch found himself panting again, paws raised. "You want your treat, Georgie? Have you been a good doggy?" Butch whimpered and begged like a desperate dog. He couldn't help himself. He was incredibly turned on.

Mark pulled on the leash, dragging Butch toward his crotch. Butch sucked on Mark's cock as though it was the source of ambrosia. He had never sucked a cock before. He had never even touched another man's cock before. But he was in heaven now. He wagged his ass happily. But after several minutes of sucking, he grew impatient. He wanted the load, the sweet ambrosia. He sucked harder. He whined with whimpers when the juice didn't come. He couldn't stop though. He had to have it.

After a few minutes more, Mark said, "Good doggy. I think it's time for your treat." Butch moaned, wagged his ass vigorously, and kept on sucking. Mark's load was indeed big, thick and juicy. Butch wasn't an adept cocksucker and wasn't able to swallow all of it. Some dribbled out the side of his mouth. Having his mouth overfilling with cum and feeling it slide down his throat drove him crazy. He had an orgasm and spewed small drops on the floor.

When Mark's juices ceased flowing, Butch rushed to gather up the cum that had leaked out, sucking his fingers dry. He then dropped to the plastic of the computer chair mat and licked up his own measly droppings. He watched as Mark stood and zipped himself up. What now, he thought.

Mark tied Butch's tie around the handle of a desk drawer, stripped off his socks, tossing them at Butch, put on his shoes, and walked to the door. Before stepping out, Mark turned to Butch, still naked on the floor, and said, "I hope you understand the nature of our arrangement, now."

Butch sat on his ass on the floor. He didn't cry or growl. He didn't berate himself. Instead, he stared at his tie wrapped around the drawer handle. He wasn't sure what to do. His boxers and pants were wet. It'll be awhile before they dry. He decided he'll pick up a pair of pants from the backstock. Still he didn't move. Did Mark expect me to stay put all night, until he releases me? No way, he thought. But what if I free myself and Mark wanted me to stay put? He wouldn't let me suck him off again. He whimpered, hating not knowing what to do.

He decided to call Mark's cell. On his knees, he brought up Mark's cell number on the computer and dialed. "Hello?" Mark answered. "Hi, Mark. This is Butch."

"Butch? Sorry you got the wrong number. I don't know a Butch."

Butch swallowed his pride and said, "Georgie. I'm Georgie."

"Georgie! Of course, my talking dog! How are you?'

"Good, except I don't know what to do. Am I supposed to stay here till you release me?"

"You got hands, Georgie. I'm sure you can get free yourself."

"But if you want me to stay and I free myself, you'll be pissed and you might not let me suck you off again."

Butch heard Mark laughing hysterically on the other end. His face turned red in anger. He moved to hang up the phone but thought better of it. He couldn't risk it.

"I'm serious, Mark."

Laughing, Mark asked, "So, if I tell you to stay put, you'll stay there till I release you? Because you want to make sure I'll let you suck my cock again?"

"Yes, provided you intend to come back tonight."

"You're a pathetic pig! What makes you think I'll let you suck me again? You're not even good at it."

"But, but, I thought that was the arrangement. I'll be a good doggy and you'll let me suck you. I can become better."

"My cock gets plenty of attention. It doesn't need any from you. The arrangement is simple. When it comes to our business relationship, you are the boss only in name. I am the true boss. I decide my hours and my pay from now on. Otherwise, be prepared to be known as Georgie the doggy by everyone in town."

"You got no evidence! It'll be your word against mine."

"Go on and think that. Nowadays, it is so easy to take a video or snap a few photos."

"Mark, please. I'll be good, I promise. You don't have to blackmail me. I agree to your arrangement. But couldn't you consider just giving me a treat every now and then, you know, if I'm especially good? Please?"

"There's always hope, Georgie. I've always had a soft spot for dogs. Go home before your wife gets worried." Mark hung up.

Butch untied his tie, crawled to where a mirror hung on the wall, and stood up. He gazed at his worried visage in the mirror. "Don't worry, Georgie. If you're a good doggy, he'll let you eat his cum again. You'll have to be an especially good doggy, though. You've been bad for so long that Mark doesn't like you right now. You'll have to get on his good side."

Georgie put on his clothes, including his wet boxers and pants. His cock grew hard, playing out that night's scene in his mind. His clothes weren't wet enough for his liking. He wanted to feel the wam juice on his skin. He saw Mark's socks lying on the floor. He crawled over and sniffed the wet one. He laid prostrate on the floor, grinding his cock against Marks' socks, panting and whimpering. He wasn't satisfied with this. He stuffed the wet sock in his crotch under his boxers. The dry sock he laid on the floor beneath his nose and sniffed deeply as he humped the floor. His hard cock rubbed against the coarse, wet sock. That was better.

He humped madly. He sniffed, whimpered and barked like a dog. He had to practice he felt. One doesn't become a good doggy overnight. He came hard into Mark's sock, the wetness intensified his orgasm. He felt good. He rolled around like a dog, his hands holding the dry sock to his nose. Happy, he crawled to his coat stand. He stood to put on his long overcoat, which would hide his wetness, and stuff the dry sock in a pocket. He returned to his hands and knees and crawled out the store, wagging his tail.