Dear Daddy, Please Spank Me - Chara Croft Page 0,1

And for another, I guess I was secretly a bit of a sap. I wanted to find my forever-guy… which was another thing that didn’t seem very compatible with what everyone else was looking for during their college years.

“...I’m sending you the pic right now,” Lizzie said.

I’d missed something.

“What?” I asked just as the phone vibrated against my ear with an incoming text.

“I know it’s him, right?” Lizzie said, sounding excited. “Even if he calls himself ‘Jay’ in the videos?”

“What?” I said again, totally confused now.

“Andy, just look,” Lizzie said, making me laugh because I could actually hear the eye roll in her voice.

When she'd been younger, I would have been on her not to sass me like that, but once William had stepped into my family’s lives and I’d left for college—scoring a small, lease-to-own house with William’s support, since it didn’t make any sense to me to waste money on dorm fees when I could put my housing costs toward an investment for my future—I’d finally been able to get back to something more like a regular brother-sister relationship with the girls instead of having to be their disciplinarian, father-figure, and everything else.

It was nice.

I pulled the phone away from my ear and put the call on speaker, then re-opened my text thread with her to look at whatever it was she was on me about.

“What did you send…” I started to ask, right before all the spit dried up in my mouth.

“Is it?” Lizzie asked excitedly. “Isn’t that him?’

If she meant, had she just sent me a picture of my high school crush, Jordan Wendt, the boy who’d almost made my dick fall off from overuse back when I was fifteen, then the answer was yes… and for the record, my dick was not holding any grudges about how sore Jordan had made it back then.

Not that Jordan had participated in that problem, of course. He hadn’t had a clue about how often I’d jerked off fantasizing about him back then. He’d been a senior when I was a freshman, the co-captain of our school’s cheer squad, and completely oblivious to my existence. Still, there was no denying that all the chafing I’d suffered had definitely been his fault.

Also his fault? Making that the year I’d come to terms with the fact that yes, I was definitely a six on the Kinsey scale.

Jerking off to fantasies of a hot cheerleader—a male one with a pretty face, an amazing ass, and muscles for days—had been my one guilty pleasure amidst all the responsibilities I'd had at home, and, as my perpetually-chafed-at-the-time dick could attest to, I’d indulged frequently.

Lizzie said something that sounded like nothing more than buzzing background noise, because… just… wow. Jordan starred in every single one of my most secret fantasies, and while yes, he still looked like pure sex on a stick, my heart tripped a little at the sight of him because my fantasies hadn’t just included jerking off to him. I’d also always imagined that we… clicked. That he was The One. That we had a connection.

Or that we would have, at least, if I’d ever had the nerve to talk to him.

Or been even remotely in his league.

Or had a single, solitary clue about what I could actually offer someone as beautiful as him.

I swallowed hard, my heart suddenly pounding so loudly that it completely drowned out my sister’s voice. The picture she’d sent looked like a screen capture, and Jordan was caught mid-hip-thrust in what looked like some kind of dance routine, full lips smirking and dark hair tousled and sweaty even though his face was, as always, perfectly made up and… and just… damn.

It hadn’t all been romantic fantasies back in the day. There had definitely been some dirty ones, too. A lot of dirty ones. Dirty ones that my cock still remembered vividly, as evidenced by the way it immediately started to press against the zipper of my pants, eager to come out and play... which, for the record, wasn’t exactly a comfortable feeling with my little sister still chattering away in my ear.

“What, uh, where did you, um, what’s this picture… from?” I finally managed to ask, stumbling over my words like I was right back to being that bumbling fifteen-year-old again as I tried and failed to tear my eyes away from Jordan’s smirk.

“It is him, isn’t it?” Lizzie asked gleefully. “I knew it! The guy you used to pant after back in high school? Jordan Whatsisname?”

“Wendt,”