Page 11 of Snuggle Bug

Calloway is so perfect I can’t stand it. I thought he was an angel, but he was really a horny angel with a super hard cock. I guess all angels have cocks that they need serviced at some point.

"I want you to suckle me, boy."

"W-What’s suckling?"

Without another word, I remove my left nipple from my top. I rub it on his ripe red lips a couple of times before I slide it into his mouth. "Just like that."

Calloway sucks my nipple, his eyes closing, his lashes fanning out over his cheeks that look as if they’ve been polished by pumice stone. I could stay like this forever. Never leave.

FIVE

CALLOWAY

"I want to play, Daddy."

I pick up a steamship from the corner, then wave it in front of me. I spotted it after I finished suckling. Oh, I could suckle Greyson forever. And ever. Never wake up from this dream.

Greyson groans, his eyelids half-closed as he sinks deeper into our pile of pillows, his lips pushing out a yawn. "Daddy’s sleepy."

It must be late. None of us know what time it is, and in a strange twist of the night’s chronology, it feels as if both the entire night and no time at all has passed.

That’s the magic of this place. In our hermetically sealed Elysian meadow where the grass is made of soft pillows and the breeze is Greyson’s kisses on my cheeks, time changes on a whim.

"Steamship needs to get to the sea."

"Where’s the steamship right now?"

"In the harbor, Daddy. Hurry. It needs your help."

I wait patiently for Greyson to join me. He’s so sleepy, his eyes are half-lidded and his yawns shake the room.

Greyson pushes away the rainbow blanket, places his left foot on the soft rug that covers the floor, and then pries himself off the pillows. "I’m coming. Be patient with Daddy. He’s not as young as you, and moving these mighty legs of his requires a great deal of energy. Daddy only had a salad for lunch, a yummy one with crispy chicken and creamy Caesar dressing, along with extra parmesan cheese, because he’s cutting back on bread. Unless you want Daddy to gobble down a pizza for energy and get an even bigger belly, give me a moment to collect my bearings. Alas, my knees aren’t as strong as they once were, but I shall survive."

A bigger belly? Ha. Greyson must know that I’d love that.

I maneuver the steamship around, focusing solely on it and nothing else. Greyson will join me any moment, and I must ensure that my toys are ready for him.

Nothing would be worse than giving him my steamship only to discover that it’s missing a part. I’d be so embarrassed, even more so than when I opened up about the things I’ve done while he was sleeping.

Greyson took my confession so well. I was certain that he’d go through the roof and break up with me. No Daddy wants to find out that his boy’s been playing with his wee without him knowing. It’s the type of thing that a Daddy leaves a boy for. Or spanks them. To teach them how to behave.

Greyson didn’t even put his hands on me. Didn’t spank me, like a lesser Daddy would’ve done. That’s what I’ve been told Daddies at other clubs in New York do. They get upset with their boys, put them in timeout, or even remove their clothes and spank their naked bums. My own bum quivers at the thought of someone putting their hand on it. Making it pink and achy. No, I wouldn’t enjoy that. It’d be too painful, and it’d be so humiliating I wouldn’t be able to stop crying.

Greyson understood me, got where I came from, and to my great surprise, he confessed that my secret actions even turned him on.

That was something I didn’t see coming. At all.

Greyson was very hard as I lay with him, and when he brought my hand between his legs, I felt his wee throb. He has a beautiful, big, perfect Daddy wee. One that gives me so many warm fuzzies just looking at it.

I must admit that I was nervous to play with Greyson’s wee for the first time in our bed, because I didn’t know what it’d look like. A few Littles at the Hug Club informed me that certain wees aren’t nice to look at. It was such a relief to see that Greyson’s one fit the criteria I didn’t even know I had. Not too big and not too small. A perfect wee in every way.

Greyson joins me by my steamship, plopping down beside me, and wrapping his arm around my waist. "You’re like your friend Waxley. Aren’t you?"

I assume Greyson is saying that because I’m playing with a steamship. My cheeks flush, because I think Waxley is one of the cutest boys at the Hug Club, and even a passing comparison lets me know I’m in good company.

The first time I saw Waxley, I couldn’t tell if I was looking at a doll-like boy or a human-like doll. Everything about him is chiseled to perfection: his lips, his button nose, his floppy hair. I stared at myself in the mirror after I made his acquaintance, wishing I looked more like him.

It wasn’t long before I realized that me, Waxley, BJ, and the rest of the Littles are each perfect in our own way. We don't have to compare ourselves to one another or critique ourselves. Nothing good comes from that—only insecurity.

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