at the quick succession of messages. There was no doubt Sam was eager to fully explore his sexuality now that we were together. Bath time often ended with what he called his night-night rubbies. When I’d asked him about it, he admitted he slept better after coming, and he said Daddy rubbies were way better than doing it himself. It was hard to disagree with that logic. Mornings alternated between him sucking me off—something he seemed to thoroughly enjoy—and lazy mutual hand jobs.
I’m well aware of your feelings on moving things forward, I responded. I started counting the seconds in my head and wasn’t at all surprised when I’d barely even reached twenty before there was a response.
You do, too. Right? You haven’t changed your mind?
I read over the message a few times while I debated how to answer. He knew damn well I was looking forward to the first time I sank my dick into his body. I could remind him of that, or I could be a bit devious.
Do I need to remind you what happened this morning, baby? You were so good for me when I stretched out your back hole. We’re going to keep working on stretching you until you can take Daddy’s cock there, too.
I’d told him repeatedly that not having anal sex wasn’t a dealbreaker for me, but my boy wanted to see what it was like. I’d enjoyed tormenting him in the tub, pressing my finger against his hole. This morning, he’d asked me what it felt like since he knew I loved when he played with my ass, and I’d decided to show him.
That’s not nice, Daddy. Now I’m all hard and tingly.
Good. If he wanted to ask silly questions, I was going to make damned sure to remind him how badly I wanted him.
Then it’s a good thing you’re in your training undies. I bet your front hole is all wet for Daddy. Do you know how hot it is to play with you there and then use it to get your back hole ready? I might want to try that again tomorrow when you come over.
I can come over after work tonight. I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep after you and William talk. I want to know what it feels like to have sex. It would have been easy to quickly agree to having him drive here instead of home after work, but if we started that, I knew I’d never want him to leave and I was trying my hardest to not have him feel like I was taking over his entire life.
Tomorrow, brat.
Then can I PLEASE have permission to play with myself tonight?
I laughed. The boy got credit for asking, instead of doing it and telling me later. Because I knew him, if he had decided to masturbate when we were apart, the guilt would eat at him until he came clean. And then I’d have to punish him, which wouldn’t exactly be a hardship. So far, he was a little too well behaved for my liking and I was looking forward to when he eventually let his guard down enough to slip up.
Tomorrow. I planned on taking my time with him, and I wanted him so desperate he was begging.
The doorbell rang, so I tucked my phone in my pocket on my way to the front of the house. “William, thanks for coming over.”
I ushered him inside. The two of us weren’t besties or anything, but as I led him to the kitchen so I could finish making dinner, I wondered why I hadn’t made more of an effort to hang out with him. He was a good guy, and obviously we had things in common.
We chatted about mundane topics while I cooked. I knew I was stalling, but it felt bizarre to invite the man over so I could ask his permission to have sex with the boy who’d shared my bed more nights than I’d slept alone recently.
“How are things going with Sam?” he asked once we were sitting at the table. It was a damn good thing each of us had a beer, because I felt like a teenager facing down my boyfriend’s dad. I snorted when the thought entered my mind that his question sounded close to ‘what are your intentions with my daughter?’.
“They’re good,” I confirmed. My gaze drifted to the living room where there was a half-assembled project on the coffee table and Legos stacked into piles,