Page 25 of Little Boy Toy

I clasped my hands together in my lap, squeezing them tight to contain myself. Zale was the best not-daddy ever to think up this wonderful surprise. None of the other supposedly real daddies I knew could hold a candle to his thoughtfulness and personality.

He said he’d wanted change when he walked into the little room at The Red Door. Well, it looked like I was that change.

This felt right. Maybe that meant Zale was the subconscious change I was looking for?

The drive to the beach seemed to take no time at all. Zale was happy to hear my excited chatter. He asked me lots of questions. They were pretty general at first, like what were my favorite sea animals, and had I read any more good stories. I chattered away like I did when I was excited, and when I felt safe. Zale made me feel safe. He wasn’t going to laugh at my answers, or my innermost thoughts.

About halfway through the journey, the questions turned more personal. He asked me where I grew up, and about my parents. None of my past dates ever got far enough for them to show they wanted to know me better. It didn’t seem to matter to them where I came from. The past child-me was not of any interest. They wanted the little boy kinky me. Which was fine, but like a cold wind on my heart. Whereas Zale was like a warm summer breeze circling.

“I grew up in Dustin. Which is about forty miles from the city.”

“I know the area,” Zale said. “It’s nice.”

“My parents were middle class, very religious. Very safe. That is, until I came out to them. Then things changed. They wanted me to go to college, but I already knew the type of work I wanted to do. I took some community college classes and started my own business. I moved out as soon as I turned eighteen.”

“Were they okay with that?”

“Not really. We send holiday cards back and forth, but I don’t see them and they don’t invite me.”

“Not even for Christmas?”

“Nope.”

Zale’s right hand lifted off the steering wheel and grasped my wrist. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

I shrugged, then turned my hand over and grasped his. I liked that we’d held hands for so long at his place. His touch made me all floaty.

“What about you?” I asked.

“My mother died when I was very young. My father and I have a decent relationship and I do see him on holidays. He’s got a new wife and is happy. He’s completely fine with me being gay and into kink. He just asks that I don’t get into the details, although sometimes he asks questions. He always prefaces them with ‘out of curiosity, son….’ He once said he’d been reading and came across the word throuple. He asked if I have throuples and such in my lifestyle.” Zale laughed.

“Well?” I asked.

“Well what?”

“Do you?”

“Hmm. I’m into kink. What do you think?”

“I’ve never had more than one. Like never an orgy or anything like that.” My face heated. Was this too much for us right now? But we were both club members. This sort of talk was not rare.

“So my answer is yes, I’ve tried a lot of different things,” Zale continued.

“You told me you try everything twice just to be sure.”

“Yep.”

“You’re trying out something new with me,” I began.

He turned and winked. “Am I?”

I made a face. “Yes.” I pushed the word out hard in my most babyish voice.

“That’s fair.”

I sighed in relief, which startled me because I wasn’t nervous at all anymore. Zale was Zale and we liked each other. That was a given. Still, the nervousness fluttered about my insides like mothwings.

“We’re outside our kinks, so if I’m your first, there would be a second.” It was logical. But I didn’t realize what I’d said, and what my words were asking for until I said it. I didn’t want this to be a fling. I wanted Zale in my life, coming towards me, not going away.

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