Page 22 of B is for Baby Me (Classes in Kink #1)

Chapter twenty-one

Bedtime Stories

Fletcher

Thank god for Kashmiruccinos. I’m going to need extra caffeine to get through this busy holiday season. Besides preparing my students for their finals and fine-tuning next semester’s curriculum, I have my fingers in a few ‘Christmas pies’... or, should I say, wrapped around one tasty Yule Log? Snort.

Honestly. You’d think I was infatuated with Bennett, the way he’s never far from my thoughts. I’ve even rewritten the spring syllabus for my Molecular Genetics class with him in mind. I can’t wait to see his face light up when he reads it. Perhaps my protégé would enjoy collaborating on a research experiment together.

Speaking of collaboration, the matchmaking project should be a pleasant holiday past-time. If George’s wife had led him around like a puppy on a leash, I’m certain we can find a domme to collar him. Between Simon, Leah, and I, we know every dominatrix within a hundred miles. This isn’t just about derailing SR’s one-track, football-obsessed mind, either. Finding a love-interest to dominate Bennett Senior’s thoughts ( et cetera ) could be the perfect solution to JR’s dilemma—but I’d also like to see George at his happiest. I’ve become fond of the man. He did a remarkable job raising his son under such trying circumstances. If anyone deserves a second chance at love, it’s SR.

Good lord, I’m getting sappy. Since when am I interested in love and romance? I’d better be careful that my sub and I don’t get romantically attached. I don’t want to get hurt, or rather, have him get hurt. A certain amount of attachment is reasonable, of course—I intend for Bennett to be my student and future colleague for years to come. In fact, I hope to keep both of the Bennetts as friends. As long as JR and I don’t cross any emotional lines, all will be well.

In the meantime, my sub still has pressure and anxiety to deal with. With JR’s looming exams—not to mention football playoffs—the stress relief he gets from submission is more important now than ever. As a responsible dom, it’s time that I up my game… starting now.

JR knocks on the door, then sticks his head inside my office. “You wanted to see me, Sir?”

Perfect timing, as always. “Yes, come in and shut the door. We have a few items that I’d like to discuss.” I push my glasses up into my hair and fold my hands on top of my desk.

“Is everything OK?” he asks as he sits on the edge of a chair.

“Everything’s fine, Bennett—though you seem a bit anxious. Have you been keeping up with your meditation practice?“ I smirk.

The football player’s cheeks turn their usual rosy red. “I don’t meditate as much as I used to, but Buddha still lends a hand now and then.”

“Of course. You’re a growing boy. In fact, I seem to be growing myself.” I stand up, adjusting my hardening cock before striding over to my sub.

JR darts a look from my tented pants to the closed office door. “Is that something I could help you with, Sir?”

“Perhaps we can help each other... on a more regular basis. Would that interest you?” It’s a rhetorical question.

His eyes light up. “Heck yeah!”

“Very good. You learned my cursing rule, and it only took one spanking.” I grab a fistful of his hair, yanking back his head. “That deserves a reward. Are you free Wednesday evening?”

JR melts under my tight grip, his eyes growing glassy. “Wednesday’s good,” he mumbles.

Hmm… it seems my sub has a hair-pulling kink. Noted.

I release his hair, giving it a gentle stroke. “Excellent. I think we should start meeting at least once a week. You know, to manage your anxiety. Are you green, Bennett?”

The football player grins. “As fu-udge.”

“Good save,” I laugh, patting his dimpled cheek. “Now that that’s settled, I would also like to speak with you about your father.”

The smile slips from his face. “My dad? What about him?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” I soothe my sub, stroking his hair once again. His silky blond curls feel like heaven. I wonder if he knows how much I enjoy playing with them? “Simon, Leah, and I would like to introduce your father to a few... eligible women—with your permission, of course.”

JR blinks at me, then snorts. “Sure, go for it. But I gotta warn you, every woman in town has hit on my dad. He’s oblivious.”

“Be that as it may, we’d like to try our hands at matchmaking,” I tell him. “Though we don’t want to be insensitive to your feelings. Would it upset you if we made an attempt?”

He shakes his head. “I’d love to see my dad find someone special. Really. Nothing would make me happier, but...”

“But?” I motion for him to continue.

He shrugs. “My dad always says that Mom was his ‘one and only’. You may not have much luck convincing him otherwise.”

“I see. Well, as long as you don’t mind us interfering... We’ll try to be subtle with our efforts.” Obviously, we’ll need to tread lightly.

JR raises his eyebrows. “Simon... subtle? ”

Hmm. He may have a point. “We’ll try to rein in Sigh-Moan.”

Two days later…

JR trembles beneath me on the sex chaise. As he should. This Big Bad Dom is as hungry as a wolf, and there’s only one thing that will satisfy my appetite.

“Little sub, little sub, let me in.” I circle a lube-slicked finger around his hole.

“Not by the hair on my— unngh .“ He lets out a low groan as I suck on his balls, rolling them around on my tongue. When I thrust a finger inside his tight channel, his moans get louder.

Releasing his sac, I growl, “Then I’ll huff... and I’ll puff... and I’ll blow my way in.” I wrap my lips around the head of his dick, sucking on it while I stroke his shaft with one hand and finger his hole with the other.

“Oh god, this is the best bedtime story ever,” the football player moans.

I hum in agreement as I redouble my efforts.

It’s time to blow this brick house down.

Sunday afternoon at Roscoe’s…

JR’s face shines with excitement as he describes the previous day’s quarterfinal match. “We were tied going into the second half, but then Blake threw a massive fifty yard pass to Josiah. After that, it was game over .“ The offensive tackle fist bumps with his teammates, all of them in full celebration-mode.

I smile indulgently at my sub. “I know, Bennett. Simon and I were there at the game.”

The Gladiator’s mouth drops open. “You were?”

“Of course, silly boy—you know how dedicated I am to the sport.” Simon runs a manicured hand through his hair. “We had a marvelous time. Didn’t we, Tommy?”

JR gazes at me, his eyes growing soft. “You came to my game?”

“Yes, and you were incredible. I wouldn’t have missed it.” I reach under the table and squeeze his hand.

“Did you see my Georgey-boy?” George Senior brags as he passes Simon a beer. “Those two defensive linemen tried to rush Blake as he set up that fifty-yarder, but they didn’t stand a chance against the Bennett Brick Wall 2.0.”

“It was spectacular,” the businessman agrees. “I had no idea that live football could be so thrilling! I guess I picked the right time to go to my first game.”

The Golden Gladiators all turn to face him, gazing at him in shock.

“That was your first game?” Tyrell’s voice booms through the crowded sports bar. “We stole your virginity, Sigh-Moan?”

Simon coughs on a swallow of beer while I laugh out loud, patting his back. “Stealing Simon’s virginity would be like stealing world peace.”

“Or a time-traveling unicorn,” my friend splutters.

“Your first live football game! You don’t say?” SR shakes his head in wonder. “This calls for a toast.”

We all raise our glasses.

“To Sigh-Moan!” Blake shouts. “For letting the Golden Gladiators pop his cherry!”

“Sigh-Moan!” Everyone at the table joins the cheer, whooping and hollering like idiots.

Simon Crenshaw—master of innuendo, the dom of double entendre—blushes a bright shade of red.

Good lord. Did we just steal ice cubes from hell?

Four days later…

JR sprawls across the bed, moaning in bliss while I mark the V of his lower abdomen. “Oh, Daddy, what soft lips you have.”

“All the better to kiss you with, Little Ben.” I place a soft kiss on the love bite before kissing every inch of his groin—focusing on the most rigid ones.

“Oh, Daddy, what an amazing tongue you have.” His fingers dig into my hair as he arches his hips.

“All the better to lick you with, Little Ben.” I nudge my sub’s thighs apart and lick, nibble, and kiss his crease.

Gasping, JR rolls over, lifting his ass in the air. “Oh, Daddy, what big teeth you have!”

“All the better to eat you with, baby boy.” I gaze hungrily at my Little Ben. This bedtime story is about to have a very happy end-ing.

The following Sunday at Roscoe’s…

The talk around the table—when the Golden Gladiators aren’t yelling at the game on the big screen—centers on football playoffs, winter break, and SR’s holiday rum ball party. The undergrads all seem excited, and their festive mood is catching.

“I love a tasty rum ball. Don’t you, Josiah?” Simon strokes a finger across the athlete’s forearm.

The handsome young man shrugs a shoulder, unaware of the obvious flirting. “I don’t know, Mr. Crenshaw. I’ve never tried one.”

SR passes the running back a plate of nachos. “You’ll love ’em, Golden Receiver—all the boys do.”

“All the boys love my balls, too.” Simon’s eyes sparkle, his lips curling up at the corners. “I’ll bring a few cheese balls to the party, George. By the way, would you mind if I brought along a lady friend?”

SR raises his eyebrows. “No problem, Si. Anyone special?”

The scheming cupid smiles at his target. “She’s something special, all right. I look forward to introducing the two of you.”

“How about you, Tom?” George asks me. “Are you bringing anyone to the party?”

“I’m married to my work,” I tell him. “Though I’ve been making more time to play recently.” I nudge JR’s foot under the table.

Simon passes me a platter of potato skins. “It shows, Tommy. You’re much less of a Grinch this year.”

“You’re a lot less stressed out than usual, too,” SR says to his son. “Is school going well, Georgey-boy?”

“School’s great, Dad.” My sub nudges against my foot.

Tyrell snorts a laugh. “Speaking of stressed out—where’s your roommate, JR? I can’t wait to see what happens when he tries your dad’s rum balls.”

“I think J-Bob swore off alcohol after his Thanksgiving hangover,” SR tells us as he glances around the crowded bar and grill. “Where is he hiding, Junior?”

JR rubs the back of his neck. “Y’know... double the majors, double the exams...”

Double major? “Your roommate sounds like quite the scholar. He must be very intelligent.”

My sub gives me a strange look. “Well, most people think so...”

“Our J-Bob’s gonna work for NASA one day! Mark my words,” SR boasts. “Make sure he comes to the party, Georgey-boy. Tell him I’ll make rum-free balls.”

“And I’ll bring non-alcoholic wine,” Simon promises.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Tyrell asks. “I want to hear the little guy call me Ganesh again.”

“I’ll call you Ganesh, Pad Ty,” the businessman purrs.

The linebacker laughs, fist bumping the dom. “Pad Ty? Good one, Sigh-Moan! Only now, I’ve got a craving for noodles.”

Two days later…

I bend my six-foot-five sub over the top of the sex chaise. It’s time for Little Ben to play with some toys. My playroom is full of fun options.

“Do you like this one, Goldilocks?” Gripping his blond curls in one hand, I ease a lubed prostate massager into his ass with the other. As I rock the toy gently back and forth, I get JR familiar with the small, curved object.

“Daddy, that feels wonderful,” he moans, his ass high in the air.

“Good boy.” He isn’t nearly as shy as he once was. After playing with the prostate wand for a while, I say, “Let’s try the next size up. Are you green, Goldilocks?”

“Greeeeen.” JR lets out a blissful sigh.

Let’s see... What plaything should we try next? I select a silicone jelly dildo, lubing it up before gently easing it inside him. “How is this one?”

“Oh god, that feels even better,” he groans.

I pull on my sub’s hair as I massage his prostate with the flexible toy. “Time to try the next one, Goldy. Are you green?”

Between groans of pleasure and moans for more, I hear a muffled “green”. After replacing the silicone toy with a slightly larger vibrator, I set it to a low pulse and grin. The sounds pouring from JR are simply wicked.

“More!” he begs. “I need it faster and harder. Please!”

“OK, Goldilocks—let’s try one more thing.” I roll on a condom and lube up my cock, grasping his hips tightly as I thrust into him.

“Daddy!” JR pushes himself backward onto my length, meeting me thrust for thrust.

I grab his hair in a tight fist as I pound into his muscular ass. “That’s right, baby boy. Tell Daddy which one you like best.”

“You, Daddy, you . Oh my god, Fletcher .“ His cries grow louder, his movements more urgent, as I thrust into him over and over. We continue our frenzied pace until we both shout in completion.

The evidence is undeniable.

My cock in JR’s ass is juuuust right .