Page 24 of Spencer's Satisfaction
Except not even I believe that.
No; I was into it. I felt so taken care of in those moments, enveloped by his larger frame, looked after and prioritized and worshiped by him, and I’d just blurted the name out in my excitement.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Spencer says when it takes me too long to respond. “Like, I’m not expecting you to suddenly be ready to dive into age regression experimentation. Or ever, even. I just…” he licks his lips, “it sounded to me like you liked it. Calling me Daddy. Or maybe I’m just being hopeful. And, you know, itcanjust be a title. It doesn’t have to go hand-in-hand with age play.”
“No, I…I did like it,” I confess, trying not to sound bashful as I do. I just had the guy’s impressive cock sliding between my thighs, after all. “It feltright. And not just because I know you’re a Daddy. But you were taking care of me. You know, last night and then again today.”
And let’s be honest: evenIcan see that I naturally seem kind of childish at times. Being little probably wouldn’t be that big a transition for me, especially if I was in the right mood to start with. But I keep these thoughts to myself, not quite ready to share them yet. Spencer said we’d do things at my pace and I’m not ready to explore that side of my interests yet. Jerking off while I listen to stories is one thing. Trying out the kink in reality is something else entirely. At least in theory.
“I don’t think I’m ready for the age regression stuff,” I tell him after a moment of contemplation, “but…I’d like to still call you Daddy, if that’s okay?”
Spencer brightens even more, his eyes shining with delight. “You can’t possibly be real, angel. You’re too perfect. I’d be honored to be your Daddy, age play or not.”
Not wanting to ruin this happy post-orgasm bubble by correcting him about how imperfect I truly am, I just grin and, still feeling brazen, ask, “Want to shower with me?”
* * *
Is it too soon to want Spencer to stay the night? Or is it normal to get this clingy with the man who just gave me my first real taste of carnal delights?
Is it lame to use the phrase ‘carnal delights’? Even in my thoughts? I feel like it is.
Oh, God, I’m overthinking things.
We’ve just shared a very pleasurable shower, where we soaped each other up and took our time exploring one another properly. I was a bit shy when it came to touching Spencer’s cock, but he didn’t pressure or rush me. If I didn’t want to touch it, that was fine.
But I did. Oh, I really,reallydid.
And, okay, I know I have one of my own, but his is a thing of beauty. It’s long and straight, not overly thick, but uncut and veiny. And responsive as hell. There’s something addictive in making him harden. Knowing that it’s me doing that, that I’m the one with the power to get his already impressive length hotter, purpling at the head and pulsing with need is a heady thing indeed.
I just want to keep doing that over and over again, finding out all the secret, special ways to make it happen.
But then there’s this part, too. The part where, after we’ve stepped out of the shower, he takes my towel off the rack and starts drying me off with an expression I can only describe as besotted.
It’s funny how I’ve always thought I was pretty bad at reading people’s expressions, but I find reading Spencer’s as easy as breathing. He’s just so open, I guess.
He scrubs my hair dry first, making me giggle, then carefully mops up every rivulet and drop of water possible on his way down my neck, shoulders, chest and back. My arms, then my belly, my dick and balls, then my ass. Then my left leg all the way to my foot, and finally my right leg.
By the time he’s finished, I’m starting to understand that this Daddy thing is ingrained into him. Whether I’m a Little or not, he’s going to take care of me any way he can.
And, God help me, I love it.
I should probably worry that I’m getting too invested in Spencer -in this relationship, even- too fast. But how can I worry when he looks at me like I’m the center of his universe?Nobodyhas ever looked at me that way. Never. I’m going to take advantage of it while I can. Especially when it’s Spencer Rhodes. Highland. Whatever.
I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I was attached to his voice before I ever met him. Yes, I’d imagined someone bigger, bulkier, bear…ier. But now that I’ve met him, now that he’s shown me what a wonderful person he is, I don’t want the fantasy. I want the real man. For as long as I can have him.
He wraps me snugly in my towel before he hastily dries himself off, then he confidently takes me by the hand and leads me out of the tiny bathroom with its peeling paint and mold speckled ceiling and back into my bedroom just a few short feet away. He closes and locks the door behind us, then rummages in my closet and drawers, pulling out briefs, my favorite pajama pants, and a well-worn t-shirt that I only ever wear to sleep in.
“May I?” he asks me softly, holding up the bundle of clothes and gesturing to my towel.
“May you…?”
“Dress you.” He says simply.
Like it’s a perfectly normal request.
I guess for a Daddy it kind of is.
Chewing on my bottom lip, I give it a moment’s consideration. Is it really any different to letting him undress me? Or wash me in the shower? Or towel me dry afterwards?
