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.
