Page 36 of Rowan's Renewal
“Oh, fuck, fuck,fuuuuuuck,” I all but roar as my orgasm explodes from me, casting splashes of pearly white fluid over his cheeks, lips, chin and nose. There’s even a splodge on his forehead.
My legs feel like jelly as I ride out the last few moments, dribbling onto my fist and the floor of the stall.
Rowan reaches for his face, running his palm through the mess I made, and then takes it to his own cock, stroking over his semi-erection with a satisfied little sigh. My own dick twitches at the sight, but my refractory period isn’t that short.
“Fuck,” he breathes, sounding awed as he glances down at his lap, and I think I can understand why. He’s never made a secret of his disappointment or frustration with his ED.
“Baby, stand up,” I urge, “let me suck you.”
He doesn’t need any further encouragement, releasing his hardening cock to allow me to help him to his feet, where we then switch positions and I kneel before him, taking him into my mouth greedily.
I can taste myself on his skin and I moan around him, licking and sucking with fervor. I’m spurred on by his whines and his groans, his fingers tangling in my wet hair.
“A-Aaron,” he chokes out after a short while, “I’m going to come.”
I suck harder, swirling my tongue around his length before I take him to the back of my throat and attempt to swallow around him.
“Oh,shit shit shit,” he pants out, the fingers in my hair clenching and tugging, making my scalp sting deliciously, “Aaro—oh, fuck—Daddy!”
In my mouth, his cock hardens damn near to the point of steel before his pulsing release coats the back of my tongue and my throat in short spurts. There’s not a ton of cum, so I swallow it down easily, continuing to suckle on his length as it shrinks away, becoming flaccid again.
He yelps, hypersensitive, and pulls away, leaning against the shower wall with a dazed, glazed look in his eyes.
I push to my feet with a grunt, asking, “You okay, baby?”
He turns his head, water still trickling over his face. He makes no move to brush it or the wet locks of his hair on his forehead away. “I think…I think you just sucked my brain right out of my dick.”
I grin back at him. “Good.”
So far, I would say that reconnecting has been a roaring success.
Chapter Seventeen
Somehow, things become easier after our first night together in Aaron’s apartment. I find it easier to let go of any and all control —of my body, of my headspace, of clinging to adult responsibilities— when we’re together. But it’s not without its drawbacks.
I have a few more accidents during my workdays, forgetting that I don’t have a Daddy just waiting to clean me up and take care of me. I also struggle with Aaron’s shift work and with not being able to see him as often as I would like, because being without him makes me anxious, especially when I’m paranoid that my increased reliance on my protective underwear will at some point cause people to discover my condition.
But I am overall far too happy to allow these teething problems to create larger issues for both of us.
And when we are together, everything feels right.
On the nights when I’m alone at home, I research and read about the lifestyle I have fallen into. BDSM, age play, watersports…all these words that I once associated with porn have taken on completely different meanings. It’s not just aboutgetting down and dirty —though we do a lot of that, too— but about trust and support and, yeah, power dynamics, too. It makes me feel happy and empowered in ways I never imagined I could.
Like Aaron said when we first met, indulging in these kinks turns the tables on what I once believed was a flaw. Now, losing control of my bladder leads to much more positive experiences, whether they be sexy (like the watersports), or warm and affectionate (like the reverent diaper changes).
Now that I am more comfortable with it all, I’m even starting to consider Aaron’s suggestion of meeting other people in the lifestyle. To feel like the way I’m living my life is normal. To feel like we can go out and be our authentic selves without judgement.
But it’s a scary thought to let other people see our dynamic. Even if they are like us. Like me.
But Daddy was telling me about his friends who are in Daddy/Little relationships and I felt…notjealous, but…something. Like I want to be involved in their inside jokes and group chats, too. Not to keep tabs on my Daddy, but to feel included. And, on some level, I want to meet them for him. To show him that he isn’t my dirty little secret. That I’m not ashamed of what we do together. He deserves to have balance in his life, too. We both do. As partners. Equals in our relationship.
“I wanna meet your friends,” I blurt out, my thoughts tumbling past my non-existent filter. I’m in what he calls my Middle headspace, feeling young and impulsive and free. This headspace comes with very little tact, I’ve discovered.
Sitting beside me on the other beanbag in the nursery, Daddy sets down his Nintendo Switch controller and turns bodily to face me.
Secretly, I think he’s just tired of having his ass whooped in Mario Kart.
“So, that came out of nowhere,” he prompts, looking somewhere between amused and concerned. “Want to talk me through that thought process?”
