Playing With Spencer by Izaia Winter

Chapter Ten

Turner

“My turn! My turn!” Simon swam around Spencer’s back and tried climbing up while Spencer was still standing upright in the waist-high water.

I laughed and fell back on my floaty when he didn’t get very far.

“Hold on.” Spencer shook his head as if inconvenienced but smiled as he crouched down in the water and allowed Simon to climb up onto his shoulders. Standing, Spencer placed his hands under Simon’s feet. “Ready?”

“Yes!” Simon held his nostrils shut with one hand then lifted his other into the air. “One. Two. Three!”

Using his hands, Spencer launched Simon off his shoulders into the water behind him. Laughing as Simon sputtered and coughed, water having somehow gotten up his nose once more, Spencer swam to my side and balanced in the water with his chin on my floating pizza slice.

“Are you having fun?” Spencer lifted his hand out of the water and bounced it against my nose. He seemed to have a thing for my nose, always kissing or touching it. Not that I was complaining. It was cute.

“Yes. Lots.” I narrowed my eyes as a devilish gleam appeared on Spencer’s face. “What?”

“Oh, nothing.”

Glaring harder, I rolled over on my floaty and brought my face closer to his. “Daddy, you’re up to something. I can tell. I know that look.”

“No, I’m not.” Spencer batted his lashes coyly. “I’m perfectly innocent.”

“I’m not!” Simon cried from behind me as he tipped over my pizza floaty.

With a girlish shriek, I fell into the water to Spencer’s laughter. Luckily, he plucked me out of the water a few seconds later and held me to his chest. “Are you okay, baby?”

“I will be.” Using his body as a diving board, I pushed off him and dashed for Simon as fast as the water would let me. “Get back here. I’ll get you.”

“Never,” Simon vowed as he made a run for it with as much speed, laughing as he dove away from my lunge.

Spencer let us play for a bit longer until calling our pool time to a halt.

“Alright, let me see those hands,” he said, gesturing toward me and Simon.

Giggling, we swam up to Spencer and held our hands up for his inspection.

“Just as I thought,” he said, switching his gaze from Simon’s hands to mine. “Wrinkly as a prune. The both of you. Come on. It’s time to get out.”

Simon and I were honor-bound to whine as we followed Spencer to the ladder.

“Do we have to?” I asked.

“But why?” Simon moaned behind me.

“Because,” he said as he dropped a towel over both of our heads, “it’s snack time.”

That got our attention. “Snacks?”

Simon rested his chin on my shoulder. “What kind of snacks?”

“Chocolate snacks?” I stood on my toes to see over Spencer’s shoulder and into the kitchen, hoping to get a clue as to what he wanted to make.

“Cookie snacks? Cookie snacks are better.”

“I agree.” Wrapping the towel around my body with my arms tucked neatly inside, I shuffled toward Spencer and leaned against his side. “Cookies? Please.”

Simon then plastered himself against my back. “Homemade cookies are the best.”

I nodded. “We can help. We are excellent helpers. I can pour the chocolate chips.”

Simon wasn’t one to be left behind. “And I can add the sprinkles.”

“Ooo.” I turned my head, pressed my cheek to Simon’s, and whispered, “Yes, sprinkles.”

Simon gasped. “What if we add white chocolate and semi-sweet chips.”

“Double chocolate.” I nodded as my eyes grew wide. “I have some of those little freeze-dried marshmallows that go in hot chocolate. We could add them and have smores cookies.”

“Turner, you’re a genius.”

We turned back to Spencer as one and gave him our best pouty faces. “Please.”

“Oh alright, you talked me into it.” Spencer stepped back and waved us inside. “Y’all go get dressed, and I’ll get started on getting out the ingredients.”

“Yes!” I cheered as I raced to my bedroom.

“You’re the best,” Simon yelled as he chased after me.

Simon closed the bedroom door behind him as he dropped his towel to the floor. “Turner, he’s making us cookies. Cookies,” he repeated for emphasis. “You hit the boyfriend jackpot.”

Lifting my hands, I wiggled my hips and sent him a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile. “I know.”

Opening my pajama drawer —because who wanted to wear real clothes on the weekend— I grabbed a shirt and some cotton shorts and threw them at Simon because of course he’d forgotten to bring extra clothes with him when he’d raced over.

“Hurry,” I said as I put on my pajamas. “I want cookies.”

“I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying.”

We ran back into the kitchen to find Spencer already dressed in his sweats and t-shirt from earlier, putting all the cookie ingredients on the counter.

“And there are my two helpers now.” Placing his hands behind his back, Spencer turned to us like a drill sergeant. “Attention,” he said, pointing to the floor in front of him.

Giggling, we both jumped forward and stopped at the spot he’d indicated.

“Now,” Spencer said as he began to pace in front of us. “For the purposes of this experiment, this is my kitchen. And in my kitchen, there are rules.” He whipped his head around and glared at us. “Rules you both will obey.”

“Obey the rules,” I said back.

“Anything for cookies,” Simon promised earnestly.

“Yeah, what he said,” I added, pointing at Simon.

“Good.” Spencer resumed his pacing. “Rule number one. There will be no knives or any other sharp objects for the littles.”

“Do you need knives to make cookies?” Simon asked, then promptly apologized when Spencer glared. “Sorry. Right. Your kitchen.”

“That’s right. Rule number two. There will be no adding special ingredients to the cookies when I’m not looking. We want these cookies to taste good. Edible. That means we can eat them.” He stopped and lifted a brow. “I expect to hear some ‘yes, sirs’ from the two of you.”

“Yes, sir,” I promptly replied.

“Yes, sir,” Simon repeated close behind.

“Excellent. Rule number three. No one gets to hog the mixing bowl or other activities. In this kitchen, we share.”

He paused to look at us, and we once again repeated our ‘yes, sirs.’

“Rule number four. And this might be the hardest one.” He paused to give us a stern look. “There will be no eating of the cookie dough.”

“Oh, come on,” I cried as Simon let out a series of unintelligible noises. “The cookie dough is the best part.”

“No,” he said, laying down the law. “I will not have either of you eating raw flour or eggs. I know the chances of either of you getting sick is very low, but it’s not zero. So, no.”

“But, but, but cookie dough….” I knew by the look on his face he wouldn’t budge but cookie dough.

“Turner, do you seriously think I don’t have a recipe for edible cookie dough?” Spencer smirked.

Squealing, I launched myself into his arms and smothered every inch of his face I could reach in kisses. “You’re the best.”

“You better remember that,” he said, kissing me back. “Now, let’s get to work. These cookies aren’t going to make themselves. Chop, chop.”

What should have been —at most— a forty-five-minute-long project took twice that with Spencer, Simon, and I all working together in my small kitchen. There were rainbow sprinkles and tiny marshmallows scattered across my counter. Many chocolate chips, both white and semi-sweet, had been devoured in the name of quality control. And a metric ton of cookie dough had been eaten.

I stretched and yawned as Spencer opened the oven and pulled out our first batch of cookies. “Mmm. They smell so good.”

Simon looked like he was going to cry. “They do, but I don’t think I can eat another bite.” He stared down at his stomach forlornly. “My tummy is too full.”

“Oh.” I looked down at my tummy and thought about eating one of the cookies, pouting when my stomach gave an angry, don’t-you-touch-me rumble. “Maybe later?”

“How sad. No cookies for the littles.” Spencer shook his head, but his smile said he didn’t feel that bad for us. “How about we watch a movie and veg out on the couch for a while.”

“Yes.” Running for the couch before Simon could beat me to it, I jumped over the back and grabbed the remote. “I call dibs.”

“That’s not fair.” Simon even added a foot stomp to make his point.

“Fair, shmair.” I stuck my tongue out when Spencer’s back was turned.

“Turner.”

I jerked my head toward Daddy at his warning tone and found him holding his spatula threateningly. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to spank me with it or deny me my cookies. Both were equally awful consequences.

“Fine, I’ll be nice and share.” I patted the couch next to me for Simon. “We’ll pick together.”

“Yay, sharing.” Simon mimicked my earlier couch vault and bounced down beside me. “I love sharing.”

“No you don’t! You only like sharing when it benefits you.”

“Uh, duh.” Simon snatched the remote from my hand and snuggled into my side. “It’s why you love me. Oh, look,” he said, distracting me by using the remote to point at the TV. “It’s the holiday movie.”

Internally, I was ecstatic because I loved it. What wasn’t to love? Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and various other holiday legends banding together to save the world was a match made in little heaven. But I couldn’t let Simon know that. Because he’d stolen the remote. It was my sworn duty to be a pain in the ass after that. It was in the little handbook. Is a friend annoying you? Annoy them back.

“You only like it because of Santa,” I teased, in no way questioning his choice of entertainment. And honestly, same. Santa was an absolute treat.

Simon sighed as he leaned into me. “I know,” he said dreamily. “He has such massive Daddy energy.”

I heard Spencer choke off a laugh from the kitchen and smiled. I knew I could continue to bug Simon, but on the other hand, teasing Daddy sounded way more fun.

“It’s the tattoos,” I said seriously.

Simon nodded, his eyebrows bouncing. “And the swords.”

I gave a little body shiver. “And the accent.”

“And the toys,” Simon moaned, staring at the paused screen and the generic production logo.

We sighed and collapsed against each other like two love-starved teenagers, both imagining how our lives would have been different if Santa had come down on his sleigh, scooped us up, and took us back to his love shack at the north pole.

“You two are pathetic.” Spencer dropped down on the couch beside me, wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and pulled me against his side. “Should I be jealous?”

Twisting my legs over Simon’s lap, I wrapped my arms around Spencer and settled down with my chin resting right above his heart as I grinned at my Daddy. “Maybe. Santa’s got it all.”

Spencer lifted a brow and smirked. “Not everything. I have it on good authority Santa can be a little too nice.”

Remembering the feel of his hand against my ass and his mouth around my cock, I had to agree. Santa wasn’t the spanking type. The flare in Spencer’s eyes let me know he knew exactly where my mind had gone.

Simon, being Simon, interrupted and plastered himself against my back. With a wiggle or two, I quickly found myself in the middle of a Spencer-Simon sandwich. Reaching back, I slapped a hand against Simon’s side. “Start the movie.”

“Okay, okay, just let me get comfortable.” Simon squirmed against my back, tugging his shirt where it had gotten tangled between us. As soon as he was free, Simon laid down on me and held out the remote. “Are we ready?”

“Yep,” I said, my affirmation repeated by Spencer.

It was perfect. I had my Daddy and my best friend. All I needed was my teddy bear, but it was in my room, and there was no way I was getting up to get him. By the time the heroes had defeated the villain and the credits rolled, two more batches of cookies had gone into the oven, poems had been sung about the virtues of Santa —much to Spencer’s annoyance— and my belly was trying to decide if it could finally handle a cookie or two.

“You can have one,” Spencer said, handing each of us a rather substantial cookie. “I’m going to start dinner soon and don’t want you to ruin your appetite.”

I bit into the cookie, confident in my ability to talk Spencer into a second one. “Are you staying for dinner?” I asked Simon around my mouthful of awesome deliciousness.

Simon rocked his head back and forth as he tried to come to a decision. “Nah, I think I’m ready to go home.”

“Wait.” Spencer stuffed a cookie into his mouth as he opened the cabinet above the stove like he owned the place, pulled out a plastic bag, and packed away as many cookies as he could. “Here,” he said, passing the bag to Simon. “This is for you.”

“Sweet,” he said, clutching the bag to his chest. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Spencer replied with his usual sweet smile. “You did help make them, after all. The least you deserve is some of the spoils. Oh, Turner, I almost forgot. Marshall texted me during the movie. He’s having a little get-together at his house tomorrow night and wanted to know if you were coming with me. It won’t be anything too fancy. Just an after work dinner type thing. Super casual.”

“Sure,” I replied instantly, my little brain speaking up before my adult self could think of all the reasons not to go. “That sounds like fun.”

“Simon, you in?” Spencer asked, turning to my best friend.

“Oh, I didn’t realize I was invited.”

I could tell my question had caught him off guard by the way he blinked at me, his eyes making a reasonably good impression of a startled owl.

“I wouldn’t have brought it up in front of you if I thought you wouldn’t be welcome,” Spencer said gently. “I am inviting you.”

Simon scrunched up his face as he debated it. “Thanks, but I think I’m gonna have to pass on this one. All this perfectness,” he said, gesturing to his body, “comes with a price. I have to recharge my batteries. Plus, if I say yes now, I’ll wake up tomorrow and not wanna go, and then I’ll have to come up with some stupid excuse that no one will believe, and it’ll make everything awkward because everyone will know—”

“I get it,” Spencer interrupted before Simon could continue. “Some other time?”

“Yes!” Simon said, pointing at Spencer emphatically. “That.”

After a smothering hug for me and a quick one for Spencer, Simon left with his bag of cookies and a promise to bring my pajamas back the next time he came over.

“Did you have fun with Simon?” Spencer asked as he tugged me into his arms.

“I did.” I reached up and placed an impulsive kiss on the underside of his jaw. “Thank you for letting him crash our date.”

“It was no problem,” he murmured back, his eyes lazy and indulgent. “I got to see a different side of you. You’re comfortable with him in a way you’re not with me yet. He lowers your defenses.”

“For the longest time, he was the only one who knew I was a little, the only one I played with,” I said, feeling an urge to explain myself even though his words hadn’t sounded the least bit chastising. “He’s the one who told me all about littles in the first place.”

“It’s okay. I know,” Spencer replied, his voice soothing as he ran his hands up and down my back. “But trust me, being a little with another little is vastly different than being a little with your Daddy. Don’t worry about it. You’re still learning.”

I pouted. “That doesn’t sound like fun.” Learning meant school, and school was boring.

Daddy’s smile morphed into a silly grin. “It’ll be fun with me. And here’s how we’re gonna start. I want to see the little room at the shop.”

“What?” I blinked, my brain scratching like a record as it tried to keep up.

“I want to go shopping.” Spencer spun me around and led me toward the front door. “Shoes?”

“There’s a path,” I said, lifting my hand and snagging the store keys from the wall.

“Then after you.”

My mind was racing as Spencer escorted me down the path toward the back of the shop. I didn’t know what Spencer expected of me, but the little room held a special spot in my heart. My house didn’t have enough space for a dedicated playroom. I’d thought about getting a slightly bigger space and renting out the garage house, but the two-minute commute to work was just too good. Besides, I loved my house. It was going to take a lot for me to leave it.

As for my little side, I’d compromised on my bedroom. It wasn’t the playroom of my dreams, but it was a delicate balance of little and adult Turner. But the shop room? That was the little room of my soul. I had decorated it with everything that touched my little heart. It was my fantasy, and as I led Spencer up the stairs, I couldn’t help but feel he would be able to see it. Spencer was sharp like that.

I stopped in the open archway and stared into the room as Spencer ventured inside. The little room was a riot of color. The walls were a bright, blinding white with dashes of colored paint to mimic the same rainbow sprinkles we had liberally added to Spencer’s cookies. It had been fun painting them. I think I still had the giant stack of paint chips Simon and I had taken from the local hardware store—more than either of us had needed to pick out the colors.

A few of the store’s permanent toys —those used to distract the littles while their bigs shopped— were scattered around the colorful, plush rug. The large bookcase displayed our limited selection of children’s books, organized by color because it was pretty, while the top shelf showed off the young adult novels for the few middles that came by the shop.

The large white crib was more of a display case than it was a piece of functional furniture. Pieces like that were as hard to sell as they were to come by. Not many people had the money and space to drop on an adult-sized crib and those that did shopped online. The crib had a large tag wrapped around the top bar if customers wanted to visit their online store. I even had a personal discount code if someone bought one through me, but that had only happened a few times. My crib was more of a prison for all the stuffies I kept in stock. The littles loved digging through the mound of stuffed animals until they’d found the perfect one to take home. Plus, it was easier to deal with than having shelves and shelves of toys to organize.

I’d filled the rest of the room with more practical items. Pacifiers, diapers, bottles, and bibs for the babies. A selection of diaper covers, underwear, and onesies in various sizes. Velvety throw blankets and little-themed first aid kits for when the scenes were over.

Stepping into the room, I twisted my fingers together and watched as Spencer circled the perimeter, his fingers trailing over various items. I swallowed when his fingers stopped on a package of diapers. They were yellow with little ducks marching around the waist. Knees weak, I lowered myself to the rug, a hand reaching for a wooden block.

“What… what do you think?” I asked, flipping the block around on the floor.

“This is really nice.” Spencer turned around and leaned back against the diaper shelf, his eyes on me.

Unable to help myself, I flicked my gaze to the diapers then back to him in a second. It happened so fast. I told myself he didn’t see it, but his laser-like gaze missed nothing. Something about the look in his eyes instantly sent my adult self to the back of my mind.

“I’d wondered,” Daddy said as he smirked and licked his lips as if he’d seen something he wanted to taste.

I clutched the block in my hand and trembled, my stomach rolling with nerves. “Oh?”

Nodding slowly, Daddy placed a hand on the shelf near the diapers he’d been admiring. “You said Simon is the only little you’ve ever played with, the only person you’ve ever been little around. It’s only natural to imitate someone more knowledgeable, to do the same things. It’s not fun being the odd one out. You never said anything, and I’ve been wondering just what kind of little you really are.”

“I… I’ve never—” My breath caught in my throat when Daddy pulled the package off the shelf. “Never done that.”

He spun the package around in his hands. “But you’ve thought about it.”

He stated it like it was a fact, and it was. I had thought about it. Extensively.

“Yes,” I breathed, my knuckles white as he approached.

With deliberate grace, Daddy knelt on the rug and reached for the block I held protectively. Tossing it aside, Daddy tucked the package of diapers between his knees and reached for me. Grabbing my hips, he pulled me closer then helped me to my back. I stared up at the ceiling while his hands reached for the hem of my shorts. I flushed as the cool air circled my exposed flesh. For some reason, this felt more intimate than what we had done on the couch only that morning. This was different. Caring.

I sucked in a breath and closed my eyes as the sound of plastic crinkling traveled through the air as Daddy tore the package open. This wasn’t the whole deal. There were no wipes and no baby powder, but it was more than I’d ever dared to do. And if we liked this as much as I thought we would, I knew there would be time for all the trappings later.

“Daddy…”

“Shh, I’m busy.”

My toes curled when he slipped my feet through the leg holes of the pull-ups he’d picked out. Slowly, Daddy slid the crinkly edges up my legs.

“Up,” he said when he reached my hips.

Obeying, I planted my feet on the ground and lifted, closing my eyes on a moan when the soft cotton padding caressed my private places. With a snap, Daddy let go of the sides and ran his hands over my covered waist.

“How does that feel?”

I wiggled on the floor, rubbing myself against the diaper. “I don’t… it’s soft.”

The diaper was thick and made itself know, but it wasn’t big and bulky like I’d expected. It was comforting. And surprisingly arousing. Or maybe that was just Daddy. Either way, it didn’t matter. Daddy could tell I was enjoying myself.

Leaning over me, Daddy planted a hand next to my face and brushed his lips against my cheek.

“You look so cute and innocent,” he said, teasing his fingers against my waist right above where the diaper hugged me. “It makes me want to mess you up.”

Reaching down, he cupped me through the thick padding that cradled me. I loved his touch. It was so sure and confident, like nothing could knock him off his stride. It was intoxicating. And I wanted more.

Twisting my head, I kissed his forearm—the only part of him I could reach. “Daddy, please.”

“And what does my baby want?” he asked.

“You.”

His eyes burned into mine, and his hand tightened its grip. I could tell he knew what I meant. He didn’t ask if I was sure or needed some time to think. Instead, he took me at my word, dropped his body down onto mine, and took my mouth with his.

His kiss was hard and hot and all-consuming. I couldn’t tell up from down, but I could taste the chocolate and vanilla that lingered from the cookie he’d eaten. And his hands. They were rough and everywhere. Smooth when they trailed down my legs. Hard when they gripped my hips over the diaper that still covered them. Lazy when he slipped his hand into the back of my diaper and rubbed a finger down the crack of my ass to tap against my aching hole, right where I needed him the most.

Moaning, I dropped my head back and stared up at the ceiling as he trailed his lips down my neck and tugged at the collar of the t-shirt I still wore. “Daddy,” I sighed.

“Fuck me. I love it when you call me that.” His voice was husky as he balanced on his elbow and used his free hand to lift my shirt. “Lube?”

I forced myself to think through the haze of desire. Lifting my arm, I pointed toward the room across the hall. “In there.”

“Don’t move.” Standing, Spencer reached behind his back and pulled his shirt off. “I’ll be right back,” he said as he tossed the balled-up fabric to the floor.

Rolling over onto my stomach, I watched his back as he left the room. Spencer wasn’t cut like he worked out religiously, but he was solid and toned, the muscles in his back rippling as he walked. And when he returned with a bottle of lube in hand, my eyes feasted on the faint lines that traveled from his sides down into the waistband of his sweats.

“No,” he said, holding out his hand as I moved to roll back over. “I like you like this.”

Dropping back down, I followed him with my eyes as he stepped over my prone form and stared down at me. Reaching my hands out, I stretched and rubbed against the rug, my fingers twisting in the soft fibers.

“Goddamn.” Daddy shucked his pants as quickly as he could, and then he was standing over me without a stitch covering his body. His cock was hard and wept pearly drops of cum from the tip. I wanted to sit up and lick him, taste him the same way he’d tasted me, but Daddy had told me to stay, so I stayed.

Dropping to his knees, Daddy straddled my legs. He reached down and pushed up my shirt but made no move to take it off. Little kisses brushed down my back, setting my blood on fire. I’d felt desire before, but this was something different, deeper. I hungered like I never had before. It was like my body knew he was just like me, that he wanted the same things I did.

I expected him to tug my diaper down, to tangle them around my knees like he liked to do, but he didn’t do that. Instead, he gripped the waistband of my diaper on either side of the pressed seam and wrenched his hands apart. I gasped as the diaper pulled against my skin then tore. The hairs on my legs and arms stood up on end at the ferocity of his actions. And then he did it again on the other side. After Daddy tucked the diaper between my legs, he kept them open with his and used his hands to spread my cheeks apart.

“Daddy,” I moaned as I clenched my hands in the rug. “Please.”

“Don’t worry, baby. Daddy’s gonna give you what you need.” And then his lube-coated finger slipped into my hole. It burned and felt strange but so fucking right. He did know exactly what I needed.

I bit my lip and closed my eyes as a second finger pushed inside with the first. A sharp gasp escaped my throat as my cock rubbed against the soft padding of the diaper still underneath me. I was so hard I couldn’t think. All I wanted was Spencer’s cock inside of me, hard and demanding. I wanted to feel his body against mine: his chest against my back, his lips on my shoulder, his legs pinning me down. And when his fingers withdrew, I got everything I wanted.

I held my breath as his cock probed my entrance, pressing in but not hard enough to force his way past my inner muscles. “Daddy,” I whined, pressing back into him as much as his hold on me would allow.

He slapped his hand on the floor by my head and pushed a little further inside. “Don’t push me,” he said, rocking in and out of me, giving me time to adjust to his girth invading me. “I’ll fuck you when and how I want to, and now” —he paused and let me feel the silence— “I want to.”

With his words as my only warning, I held myself still and opened myself up to him as he sank into my ass. I groaned at the feel of him stretching me wide. I could feel him everywhere. I swore I could feel him in my throat as he clenched his ass and forced himself a little deeper.

“Fu—” I cut myself off before the full word could escape. I already knew how Daddy felt about me cussing.

He chuckled against my ear. “I heard that,” he said as he leisurely pulled his cock out. For all his control, I could feel his fingers digging into my sides as he held me in place.

“I didn’t” —I moaned as he pushed back inside— “I didn’t say it.”

A hand reached under my chest and pinched my nipples. “My naughty boy.”

After that, there was no more talking, just moans and grunts as he fucked me against the floor of the fake nursery. He surrounded my body with his, holding me down with the strength of his limbs. I’d never felt more possessed than I did with Daddy making love to me. I felt like I was his. His to protect. His to take.

I felt whole.

Every since Simon had explained littles and Daddies to me, I’d felt like I was missing something. I knew Simon would have smacked me upside the head if I’d told him about feeling incomplete without the other side of my coin, but having Spencer in my life was something I could never have imagined.

And then Daddy’s hand was in my hair. He turned my head and pressed my cheek to the floor. I groaned when he fastened his lips to the sensitive skin of my neck, his scruff cheeks abrading my skin.

“Daddy, I feel—” I shivered as his cock pegged my prostate. “Oh, fu—”

His laugh was dark against my shoulder. “I see we’re gonna have to work on your vocabulary. Such naughty words from you.”

“I can’t. I can’t.” It was all too much. I could feel my orgasm building as he continued to pound into my body. I squeezed my inner muscles around him, wanting to feel every inch of his cock as he pulled out.

“Does my naughty boy need to come?” Spencer reached under me, wrapped his hand around the base of my cock, and squeezed tight. “My baby doesn’t come unless I want him to come, and you’re not coming until I’m finished. I’ve wanted you under me like this for a while, and I’m going to savor it.”

“Yes-yes, Daddy.” I held on as long as I could. With his cock in my ass and his breath heavy in my ear, there wasn’t much I could do to stop myself, but I tried for him. Because he had told me to.

“Good boy,” he said with a satisfied grunt when he released my cock and his warm cream flooded my insides. “Such a good little boy. Come for Daddy now.”

Freed by his permission, I felt my entire body shudder as his cock pressed in deep and I came against my diaper. Daddy collapsed against my back while still buried deep within me as if he didn’t want to leave even after coming. I was no better. I felt loose and loved in a way I knew I would feel for a while. I winced when his softening cock slipped from inside me and thought I’d been a tad optimistic. I’d be feeling him for days.

“How do you feel?” he finally whispered in my ear.

“Good,” I replied, my throat hoarse from all the pleasure he’d forced on me. “Happy.”

“Good,” he repeated.

With a groan, Daddy pushed himself off me and rolled me over. “You were such a good boy. Coming in your diaper,” he said as he took my destroyed diaper in hand, wiped at the remaining cum still sticking to my belly, then reached under me and swiped at his cum that was beginning to spill from my ass.

Once I was sufficiently clean, Spencer rolled up my messy diaper with movements that were both quick and efficient, set it aside to be disposed of later, and helped me back into my shorts.

“There,” he said as he sat back on his heels, still naked as the day he was born. “You look presentable. Well fucked,” he admitted with no small amount of pride, “but presentable.”

I couldn’t help but giggle at the smug satisfaction on his face. Daddy had a lot to be satisfied with after the wonderful performance he’d just given.

“Come on,” he said as he stood and helped me to my feet. “I’ll put my clothes back on, and we can go cuddle on the couch before dinner. How does that sound? And here” —he reached into the crib, pulled out a soft calico kitty plush, and placed her into my arms— “a memento of our first trip to the little room.”

I sighed as I rubbed her ears and watched Daddy reach for his pants. “That’s perfect, just perfect.”