Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Caught him.
As I took his hand, I kissed his cheek. “What kind of book should we read?”
He pouted and it was delightfully dramatic. “You Daddy-voiced me and I got stuck. That’s not fair.”
I was not going to promise not to Daddy-voice him.
“Does my cute little bear have a story about a bear?” That distraction seemed too tempting to avoid.
“Oh, bears are very cute.” He pulled out his pajama shirt and gave me a beaming smile. “I have stories about Pooh, Daddy.”
And we were off…
As soon as he got to tell me all about Pooh and thinking and honey and his friends, everything else fell away. We even made it mostly through his diaper change before he finally ran out of stories and facts about Pooh.
Well, he might’ve still had stories but he let the last trail off as I spread the cream around his sensitive skin. “Daddy?”
Sending out a quick prayer to the universe that ignoring the way his cock reacted slightly hadn’t been the wrong move, I looked up at him as I wrapped him up again. “Yes?”
“Some Daddies don’t like yucky stuff.” He said it so flat that I knew we’d hit another issue I hadn’t known about.
He’d put diapers on his little list for goodness’ sake.
“Yucky stuff is something like eating okra, cutie. This is taking care of my sweet boy when he trusts me very much. But I guess everyone has different limits. Some people are buttheads, though.” Using the word asshole when he was little didn’t seem like the best idea.
His giggle had me questioning that, though. “Buttheads.”
As I pulled up his pajama pants and got him resituated, I smiled and decided it was Daddy story time. “Did I tell you about my college?”
I knew I hadn’t, so I wasn’t surprised when he shook his head.
“Well, my school was as far away from here as I could get. I nearly fell off into the Atlantic Ocean it was so far away.” Because his family might be overwhelming and occasionally ridiculous, but mine was insane.
His giggle made me smile. “That was far, far away, Daddy.”
“Very.” Sitting him up, I kissed his forehead and helped him scoot up to the top of the bed. As I took the towel he’d been lying on off the bed, I cleaned up everything else including me as I told the story. “But my school had a rule where you had to do volunteer work of some kind.”
“Oh, what did you do, Daddy?” Snuggling into the pillows, he didn’t even seem to realize that he’d yawned.
“Everyone else I knew was setting up community gardens in town and that…” I sighed dramatically as he giggled again. “Daddy is not a dig in the dirt type of Daddy.”
That got even more snickers from the cheeky boy, but he was at least smart enough to know I wasn’t kidding.
“I looked for another option and the only other one that sounded interesting was helping out in a retirement home.” Free college students were better than hiring real help, evidently. “So I made lots of friends who told me the same stories over and over and who were big but needed lots of help.”
So it would take a lot more than a wet diaper to surprise me.
And his Pooh stories were more interesting too.
“I bet you were a good friend, Daddy.” As he nodded and his hand waved, I had a feeling there’d been something else he thought he’d said, but nothing else came out.
“I hope so. I had a friend who did all kinds of naughty things when he was young and told the wildest stories.” That got another happy sound from Camden as he sank deeper into the pillows, not even seeming to realize he didn’t have the bunny or his binkie. “He told me about concerts he went to and his military stories and all kinds of things.”
The dirty old man had loved having an audience who wouldn’t tattle on him.
Camden was still smiling, but his eyelids had drooped shut. “Yes…you’re…Daddy…”
There were obviously other words that were supposed to go in that sentence, but I just made an agreeing sound as I stripped out of my pants and stayed in just my boxer briefs. As I stole a T-shirt from his dresser, I dropped my voice even lower.
“And I had a friend who was a writer when she was younger. She had stories about working at a newspaper and she told me all the things she wrote about.” I lowered my voice more with every sentence, and by the time I’d run out of G-rated stories that didn’t involve me getting screamed at, he was out.
Being a Daddy was hard work, but as I climbed in bed beside him, I knew it was worth it.
The lump moved.
“Are you a little lump or a big lump?” The lump went very still and didn’t giggle, so I was guessing it was a big lump.