Literotic asexstories – Puppy-girl Ch. 02 by kittygirlxo,kittygirlxo
If this is your first time reading this series, I recommend you head over to my profile and read the first chapter.
As always, constructive criticism is welcome! Tell me what you think – it lets me know if I’m doing a good job, whether the story is being well-received, and whether I should continue.
My mind was trapped — it was like she was quicksand. I couldn’t get her out of my head. I kept envisioning her coy smile, her little whimpers, her obedient puppy pose as she perched on my bed waiting for me. I threw out the bottle of orange juice the day after she left. Every time my eyes fell upon the half empty bottle, I remembered how cute she looked with her hands wrapped around the glass and her soft lips pressed together as she drank the orange liquid. I didn’t need the reminder.
It had been nearly a week since she left my house and travelled back to her parent’s house an hour out of town, and in that time, I swear I had jerked off to the memory of her pussy gripping my cock a billion times. I had tried to watch porn to get her out of my head; to try and distract my thoughts onto something else. All the usual stuff — the face fuckings, the spankings, the gangbangs — none of it worked. Every porn star, no matter what she looked like, ended up being replaced with Violet in my mind. My puppy-girl. Jesus, I had even gotten hard at work when I was busy laying some roof down because she was stuck in my mind that concretely. It was frustrating and distracting.
It was made worse by the fact that I had now gotten into a routine of texting or calling her before I fell asleep. She was funny and witty, making little jokes and telling me about her sociology degree at college that she was studying for. Her focus was on gender studies — we both had a chuckle at the irony of her studying feminism and while enjoying being treated like a whore. Her parents, around my age in their 40s, were near impossible to live with apparently. She told me about how they were avid Christians and they forced her to go to church every Sunday, and afterwards she was forced to attend a church group BBQ. Despite my sympathy, I couldn’t help but smile — their pious little girl wasn’t as innocent as they wanted her to be apparently.
Sasha sat next to me on my couch, her legs crossed, as she watched TV.
Eventually, her eyes fell on me. “Who are you texting?” she asked, leaning over to try and look at my phone.
I pulled it out of her line of vision. “I’m texting work.” I quickly answered.
Sasha’s eyes narrowed, and she attempted to reach for my phone. “Bulllshit, Joel. Why are you being so secretive? Who are you texting?”
“No one!” I insisted. My arm shot upwards, holding my phone out of her reach.
Sasha eventually stopped, returning to her place on the couch. She frowned at me, her blonde hair pulled into a bun that made her look severe, like a high school teacher. Despite her being the same age as me, somehow she seemed to have aged less than I had. Maybe all that pussy eating was a natural anti-ageing treatment.
She had a right to be suspicious — we had been friends for years and generally, we shared every detail of our lives with each other. She ran by every girlfriend she had with me, and usually we debriefed each other after dates we had. I had tried it on with her years ago when we met at a party, but very quickly I realised that wasn’t going to happen. That didn’t stop us from having a drunken kiss every now and then, but I knew now that it was all in the name of fun, rather than expecting anything more to happen.
Her eyes felt like they were boring into mine. Finally, I relinquished.
“I’m texting that girl who turned up the other week — Violet.” I answered.
Her eyebrows shot up. “Really?” she said incredulously. “The girl who came to you for help from her psycho boyfriend?”
“Ex-boyfriend,” I said quickly. “But that’s not important. We’re just friends. I’m … supporting her.”
“Joel,” Sasha said, her voice flat. “How old is she, like 19?”
“She’s actually 21,” I snapped back. “And that’s not important. We’re just friends!”
“Did something happen between you two?” she suddenly asked. “When she stayed here?”
The question made me balk. I hadn’t told Sasha about my evening with Violet. I had told her that I gave her some money to catch the train to her parent’s house and she went on her way the next morning. I was sure guilt was written all over my face right now.
“No!” I answered and I internally berated my body for giving it away — my voice, usually deep, came out cracked, like I was fucking teenager whose voice had just dropped.
“You’ve got to be kidding me, dude.”
“Okay, fine!” I eventually said. My phone was in my lap now and I raised my hands. “But she seduced me. Not the other way around.”
Sasha produced a dry laugh. “Oh yeah, and I’m sure you fought her off tooth and nail, right? You’re twice her age!”
“I’m not sayin’ I said no. I mean, Jesus, tell me you’d say no if a girl like that fell into your lap.”
The little sigh that came from Sasha told me the answer before she did. “Probably not,” Sasha said, smirking slightly. “So … was she any good?”
I couldn’t stop the grin that crossed my lips. “Yeah, she was alright,” I answered.
“Come on, dude! If I’m going to ignore the fact that you’re morally bankrupt, you’ve at least gotta give me some details.”
I had to choose my words carefully here. As much as I loved Sasha and as much as I shared things with her willingly, the darker side of my sexual escapades were very much a personal detail that I kept to myself. I wasn’t sure how she would react. Sasha was a feminist at heart. It wasn’t like I wasn’t one either — I tried my hardest to be inclusive and to support women. But this was different. Sasha was right — Violet was half my age, and she came to me for support. If I told Sasha that I fucked Violet like she was a filthy little dog, I wasn’t sure she would appreciate that.
“It was … kinky,” I answered finally. “She liked it … rough.”
Sasha nodded appreciatively. “Good for her,” she said lightly.
“Yeah, she wanted me to … take charge.” I was getting more confident after Sasha’s response. A little detail wouldn’t hurt. “Like with spankin’ and stuff.”
“Spanking?” Sasha said in feigned shock. “My, how kinky of you, Joel. Be careful you don’t pull her hair a little bit next.”
“All right, whatever. There was more to it than that. But I’m a man who don’t kiss an’ tell.”
“Whatever, man. You keep your secrets. But I have to admit, I do like the vision I have of her being spanked. She was a hot little thing.” Sasha smirked again before turning back to the TV. “Pass the remote. I wanna see what else is on.”
My phone buzzed two weeks later, and I saw Violet’s name flashing up on the screen. I tried to ignore the little flutter my heart did at the sight.
“Hey, sweets,” I finally answered.
“Hey, Joel,” came her trilling reply. “So … guess who’s coming back to your neck of the woods?”
“Mm, I don’t know. The muffin man?”
“The muffin ma — jesus, you are such an old man.”
“Easy,” I warned her.
“Anyway,” she continued breathlessly. “I’m coming back, and I wondered if you wanted to meet up for a drink?”
Her voice was high and tight — it sounded unnatural. There was something off here, I was sure of it.
“What’s going on? Has something happened with your parents?”
“Um … no. Actually, Hugo called. You’ll never believe this, but he wants to try again!” Her response ended with a high lilt as if this were the most normal thing she could have said to me.
“Your ex? The psycho drunk you just got away from?”
I began to pace around my living room, my heart beating a little faster. As the silence extended over the phone, I found my spare hand reaching for a cigarette in my pocket. I lit it, still inside, before opening my sliding door and stepping out into the chilly evening air. The smoke exhaled from my mouth in lazy tendrils.
“Well, he’s not really that psycho,” she said quietly. “He was just going through a hard time is all. And he promised me he’s not drinking anymore, so …”
“Violet,” I sucked on my cigarette again and found the two fingers it was pinched between were almost squishing the little foam end of the smoke. “You do remember what he did right? Throwin’ stuff? Gettin’ all angry and drunk? That don’t just go away magically. It’ll only lead to more bullshit.” I hated how the twang of my accent returned when I was getting worked up.
“Don’t be dramatic, Joel. I’m telling you, it’ll be fine. Plus, it’s not like I’ve got anyone else who wants me, right?”
The meaning of that statement was clear. The last time we had spoken, I had told her in no uncertain terms that our relationship was purely platonic from now on. Like I said to Sasha, we were just friends. Sure, I could fantasize about her, but in real life, we were nothing more than friends. She was too young, too addictive, and I knew we wouldn’t be able to stop our relationship from becoming all-consuming. It was for her benefit and mine.
“Jesus christ, kid. You’re killin’ me here. I’m tellin’ you now, it’s a bad idea.”
“Why can’t you just trust me?” She was near yelling now. Her petulant voice being thrown into the phone abruptly. “What are you, jealous or something?”
“I’m not jealous. And you’re pushin’ your fucking luck,” I growled. “Simmer down, Violet. Or else.”
I wasn’t jealous, that much was certain. If she wanted to be with that punk, then she was fucking welcome to it. He was a no-good loser, and she was an idiot if she thought running back to him was going to work out.
“Or else what? You gonna spank me again, Joel? You said it yourself, we’re friends. Platonic. You don’t get to be my Daddy anymore.”
“Oh, and this is how friends speak to each other is it? Screamin’ down the phone about how they’re runnin’ back to their psycho ex?” I was fuming now, near chain smoking the cigarette that was pinched in my shaking hand. “I’m tellin’ you, he’s bad news. But if you wanna be a fool and make the same mistake twice, then go ahead.”