Page 71 of Bedtime Stories
“I’m not rushing tonight,” I tell him quietly.
And the way he melts against me tells me that’s exactly what he was hoping for.
Oren padsinto his bedroom and reaches for a clean pair of underwear, but I stop him.
“Just get in bed, kiddo. No undies tonight.”
Dropping my towel, I climb in, aware of his hungry gaze glued to my body. I reach for the journal, thumbing to the page I’d dog-eared. His eyes go wide when he sees what I’ve chosen—a sock fetish story he never meant for me to read.
“You’ll read it,” I murmur, sidiling up behind him and pulling him into the cradle of my body. His back is pressed to my chest,my chin resting over his shoulder. I slide the brand new eggplant sock over his hardening shaft, hand closing around the purple fabric.
His voice falters on the first sentence.
“Keep going,” I whisper, stroking him in time with the words. The cotton drags in just the right way, rough and soft all at once.
“Keane…”
His cheeks are blazing, the story trembling out of him in broken pieces, embarrassed but so goddamn turned on he can’t stop.
“Daddy,” I correct softly, and squeeze just enough to make him gasp.
By the second paragraph, he’s a mess—hips jerking, voice shaky, torn between shame and the sharp edge of pleasure.
But I’m not letting him look away. Not tonight.
The journal rests in his hands, heavy with the wantonness of his own words. He clears his throat, hesitates, then begins softly.
“‘The boy took off his socks slowly… knowing his Daddy was watching.’”His voice is tentative, eyes flicking up to mine as if he’s unsure if he should continue.
I murmur encouragement, brushing a hand gently along his back.
“Keep going. I want to hear it from you.”
He swallows hard and continues, voice shaking slightly.
“‘Daddy said the socks looked nice… and the boy felt shy.’”
I hum softly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
“Good. You’re doing great.”
He grips the journal tighter, leaning back against me, the warmth of our closeness grounding him.
“‘The boy tried to be brave, even though he felt a little embarrassed… Daddy was proud.’”
“Exactly. That’s why I love hearing you read your stories. Your courage shows through every word.”
He takes a deep breath, finishing the paragraph with a shy, proud glance at me. To reward him, I stroke him faster. The sound of Oren’s breath hitching makes me grow impossibly hard.
“‘And Daddy told him he was doing wonderfully… just as he was.’”
I nip his shoulder gently with my teeth. “Perfect. You’re doing wonderfully.”
Oren continues, spreading his thighs wider. My boy is living out his wildest fantasy in my arms. I squeeze him tighter in my grip, pushing him toward the edge because if he doesn’t get there soon, I’ll surely beat him to it. The way his ass squirms against my cock is driving me wild.
He grips the book tighter, his voice threaded with need.
“‘The Daddy stroked the boy's soft soles, sliding his long thick fingers between the boy’s toes.’”
