Malcom was feeling all excited like about his meeting with Valmont, his cousin's boss. They had spoken briefly over the phone before deciding to meet at a public bathroom at the Burger King on 12th and L downtown. Malcom was sitting at a table in the back when as he watched his lurid paramour enter, a vision in a tight black rayon shirt that was tucked firmly into his tight, black leather pants. The sound his black motorcycle boots made as he strode towards Malcom sent a tingle up the smaller man's spine. Valmont's long raven-black hair spilled over his well defined shoulders, as he held out a meaty paw and grinned, his eyes shimmering like a predator's.

 "Hey."

 Malcom, stunned into silence, quietly took the man's hand and purred demurely as he followed the large man into the restroom.

 "Hey!" The fry cook called out angrily, "Only one person per bathroom, dammit!"

 With a flip of his hair, Valmont leveled his emerald eyes in a steely gaze, narrowing them momentarily as he gave a soft growl. The fry cook quickly scurried back to what he was doing.

 Once inside, the door sealed behind them with a loud click that sounded off the bathroom tiles. Malcolm gulped as Valmont stood back and sized him up with a sidelong grin. He then nodded and quickly grabbed Malcom by the back of his neck, forcing his cheek down onto the cool, white porcelain of the sink, which was unusually clean for such an untidy establishment. Malcom shuddered and cried out, his eyes tracking a puppet that looked like a little black dog with long, pointed ears that slowly crept over his shoulder.

 In a low rumble, Malcom heard, "Are you my bitch?"

 Malcom, too aroused to be confused at this spectacle cried out, "Yes! YES!!"

 The little black puppet dog's head moved in time with the words, "Say it, bitch boy."

 Unable to control either the tone or volume of his voice at this point, Malcom screamed, "I AM SO COMPLETELY YOUR BITCH!!!"

 There was a dark chuckle as Malcom felt a hot, throbbing hardness against his leg. The painfully sexy voice rumbled, "Good. 'Cause I'm gonna put my hand in yer ham, bitch boy."

 Malcom was practically aquiver with need as the man behind him began growling and making little yipping sounds. Teeth dug into Malcom's shoulder and he could see Valmont's eyes, glazed with an inhuman need as he chewed and ripped at Malcom's off white Juniper networking conference tshirt. The puppet was earnestly working it's way down Malcom's chest, sending little thrills through him. My GOD, this is easily the kinkiest thing I've done, EVER! Wait 'till I tell Shirley!

 He opened his mouth to cry out again, but felt a firm hand press against his mouth, roughly.

 "Shut your fucking mouth, bitch boy. You don't speak unless I tell you to, am I clear?"

 Malcom groaned and nodded quickly, glancing down for a brief moment to find the strange dog puppet sliding between his shirt and his trousers. WOOF!, he thought to himself as he closed his eyes and went with the moment. His cheek slid along the sink as Valmont undid his trousers and pressed up against him, firm and hard. Malcom's head was spinning. Wow! This is SO much better than that time I got fisted at the Dairy Queen back in Oakland.

 The larger man gripped Malcom's shoulders and growled, "First, I'm gonna get you ready for my paw. Open wide, tater tot." Malcom shuddered as the strange, yet entertaining puppet began flouncing about with his nibbly bits.

 Valmont, his raven-black hair covering his face in a silken drape, pressed his tumescent member against Malcom's happily yeilding winkin' pink browniecake and groaned as he slid into the smaller man, his nails leaving raw, red marks along Malcom's pale, white skin. The puppet was a furious blur at Malcom's meat and two veg as the enormous barbarian pumped into him, growling with abandon, flecks of foam leaving a misty trail on Malcom's off white shirt.

 Sweet CHRIST, but this bohunk's giggle stick is a churning swizzle stick of hot man meat!! I don't know what god I pleased lately, but THANK YOU! Malcom's breath began coming in ragged gasps under the dual assault. He didn't know how much longer he could last. Thinking of dead puppies and baseball scores wasn't helping this time. The entirety of sensation was just too much for him to bear, and he felt himself screaming over the edge as his cock jerked in the puppet's mouth. Hot, glistening, ropy strands of semen exploded out of his engorged shaft, coating the little puppet in what appeared to be quite a lot of sperm.

 He slumped against the sink, and cried out when Valmont growled into his ear, "You ain't done yet, bitch. Ever heard of a snowball?"

 Before Malcom could react, the puppet was at his mouth, smearing his face with his hot love juice. As the smaller man began lapping at the puppet hungrily, Valmont began howling at the top of his lungs. The enormous man then jammed the puppet in Malcom's mouth and pulled out, sending shooting strings of opalescent lifejuice onto the wall, toilet, the back of Malcom's head and a small section of the mirror. Malcom found himself actually stunned that a human being produced that much jizz in one go.

 Oh, I think I'm in LOVE!, he mooned happily to himself, continuing to slurp his wetness out of the puppet's cloth.

 Malcom felt the huge man sag into him as the puppet dropped from his mouth. Valmont's heavy breathing seemed to blot out all but the steady hammering of Malcom's own heart. A hand wrapped around his midsection and pulled him close as the puppet gently nuzzled Malcom's meaty love polyp. Valmont seemed to be making a quiet, playful mewling sound as the puppet engaged in what felt, and appeared, like a makeshift production of 'Punch and Judy'.

 Or perhaps it was 'West Side Story'. It was surely frenetic, whatever it was. Within moments, Malcom was rock hard again, and as Valmont pressed him up against the bathroom mirror, his breath fogged it's surface as he began moaning loudly.

 Malcom felt a hot, stinging slap that rang off the ceramic bathroom tiles, and he cried out before the puppet clamped over his mouth. The larger man spanked him with a fiery abandon that left his cheeks rosy and burning with each searing whack of his hand. Valmont's voice was a husky growl as he grated, "Chickens need to learn to keep their fucking mouths SHUT."

 With every blow landed, Malcom could feel himself getting harder, the intensity of sensation bringing him very close to the brink. He'd never felt so...abused before. It was WONDROUS!

 Valmont began looking around the bathroom for a suitable implement to impale the smaller man's secret pussy with, smiling as a Dial disinfectant soap dispenser came into view. Disinfectant soap always made a great lubricant.