Page 29 of Snuggle Bug

"Mean, Daddy!"

Greyson plunges my cock into his mouth. He sucks me fast and hard, pumping his face to the base of my cock. I groan, my fingers latching through his hair as red-hot heat zaps through me.

I don't even have time to thrust into his throat before I’m coming.

I scream, my orgasm slamming through me, hot cummies flying out of my rod. Greyson sucks up every droplet greedily, growling and panting into my shaft as he drives his fingers into my hips.

I stare at his thick, calloused, manly fingers scratching my slender, petite, bony hips, and I nearly pass out from pleasure.

Greyson swings me over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes. "Tub time, boy. For both of us."

I’m completely dazed. I feel as if I’ve run a marathon and don't remember how to think. Do I even know my name? Hi, I Baby. No—I Calloway. Right? Or is my name something else?

That's how wonderful Greyson makes me feel. With him, I regress so deeply into my special headspace that the outer world fades away completely. There's not another person alive who makes me feel so free and safe.

"Okay, Daddy."

TWELVE

GREYSON

My boy settles into his spot in the circle, clutching Constable Charlie to his chest. Littles, boys, and brats of every variety sit around him, ready to talk about their pasts.

We’re at the Hug Club for our first group therapy session. When I saw that the next one was coming up, I cleared my schedule at the law office so I could accompany Calloway. I also instructed him to finish all his GED coursework so he’d be able to give one hundred percent of his attention to working through his emotions.

Emotional work is the hardest work you can do as a human being. Bricklaying, deep-sea diving, and pipefitting are all easier, even though those are super demanding tasks. Even the hours I put in at the law office are ten times less stressful than working through my feelings.

It doesn’t have to be that way. Somewhere along the line, men started telling each other to suppress their emotions. That was wrong. In ancient Navajo societies, male openness was appreciated and valued. They’d sit around a campfire, sharing stories about their youth, about the buffalo they killed, and grow close. Men need time with each other to bond in a very male way. Video games don't cut it.

I once watched a show when I was visiting London that was hosted by the woman who presents Naked Attraction. A group of big, strong, masculine men stripped to their birthday suits and ran naked through the woods. A very attractive lad who used to be plus sized before he started overcompensating for his childhood bullying by working out relentlessly was afraid to strip in front of the camera. He still viewed himself as overweight and chubby even though he was full of muscle. The other men in the group comforted him, making him feel safe to be himself. He stripped down, and soon, all the men were running through the woods, splashing in mud after doing obstacle courses, and giggling like schoolgirls. It was groundbreaking to see such stereotypically "masculine" men be so open with one another. I almost expected them to find pillows and have a pillow fight before watching The Notebook.

It’s been a long time since I’ve watched a romantic movie like The Notebook. As a young lawyer, I was a sap for all things romance. After a tough day of writing legal briefs, I’d retreat to my man cave, make a bowl of popcorn, and watch movies on the Hallmark Channel. I had a best friend named Missy who always gave me top-notch recommendations, because she watched a lot of movies during her day job. I was jealous because I’d never heard of a job where you had so much free time to spend watching movies, but I made sure to sneak in my daily dose of Hallmark whenever I could, even if it was after work. Those days are long gone, mainly because I’m working so much. The partners at my previous firm made fun of me and called me names because they knew I was partial to romance movies. They said that Hallmark "was for girls," and that if I wanted to excel in the courtroom, I should only watch John Grisham film adaptations. I tried John Grisham a time or two, but I always found myself returning to romance.

I think about my commitment to becoming an artist to find an outlet for my feelings once again. I curse myself internally, wondering why I haven’t devoted at least an hour a week to keeping a diary, or at least learning how to paint. That’s what I resolved to do in the cuddle room—take up painting so I could capture my baby boy in all his angelic glory. I wanted to plant a meadow full of wildflowers and spend my days putting Calloway’s beauty onto canvas.

Calloway places his hand on my thigh. "You’re lost in thought, Daddy."

I smile… then melt as I turn to my boy. He’s simply perfect. I have no idea how I got so lucky. His floppy hair settles over his forehead like a smiling cloud, and his blue eyes radiate lovingkindness. Can I see the aquatic life swirling around in his eyes today? Yes, yes I can. No surprise at all. Dolphins flop onto their bellies, flapping their dorsal fins and calling out to their friends. I see a starfish wink at me, which sends a shiver up my spine. There’s even a beluga whale leaping out of his irises today, spurting water out of its blowhole.

I place my hand on Calloway’s. "I’m thinking about all the dolphins and beluga whales that are swimming in your eyes."

Calloway blushes, then rests his head against my shoulder. "You’re so silly."

I boop his nose. "I know you are, but what am I?"

I fight back a growl as I squeeze his hand, working hard not to kiss him right here and now. It’s tough, because he looks so precious and he sounds so cute, that my inner Daddy is bursting at the seams to crush my lips to his. I must stay in control of my senses while Calloway has this group therapy meeting. It’s imperative that he meets other Littles who deal with the same issues he deals with.

I’m not sure why Calloway enjoys wetting his pants so much. I have no problem with it, of course. But I do know that it seems to upset him, and the last thing I want to do is encourage him to do something that humiliates him. That’s something a very bad Daddy would do.

BJ flies into the room, then plops down across from Calloway. He holds a teddy bear with a yellow digger sweater, one that’s scooping up a mound of dirt. BJ seems excited to be here, and the smiles he issues everyone around the circle tell me that this isn’t his first time attending.

When BJ spots Calloway, his jaw drops. "Calloway! I had no idea you were coming."

Calloway clutches Constable Charlie tighter. "Oh, no. Now, BJ will find out about my past. I wanted to keep it from my friends, Daddy."

I lean in and dust Calloway’s temple with a kiss. "What you share today is up to you. You don't have to disclose anything that makes you uncomfortable, sweet boy. However, I guarantee you that BJ won’t judge you, and he’ll likely share personal things, too. You won’t judge him, either. Right?"

Calloway whips his head back and forth. "I’d never judge my friend."