Page 5

Club Kik is exactly where I need to be tonight.

I've been wired since meeting Justin yesterday, to the point where Izzy basically told me that if I don't get my ass out of our dorm room and get laid, he might actually strangle me with his meaty bear paws.

Those weren't his actual words, but they're close enough.

Anyway, after texting back and forth with the cute single dad who I am almost certain was flirting with me last night, I have to admit that I'm keyed up and in desperate need of some kind of release.

I have to get my head (yes, the one on top of my shoulders) back on straight before my Senior year of college starts up.

I'm attending Claremont College on a hockey scholarship, and not only do I need to perform well on the team, but I need to keep my grades up, too. There's no way I'll be able to do that if I'm fixated on some random guy.

Some random super cute guy.

Some random super cute guy whose eyes practically screamed 'help me, Daddy Gabe' last night.

I mean, okay, he's more than likely straight, and I didn't actually get any kinky vibes from him —and it's entirely possible that I imagined the flirty tones to his perfectly normal conversation— but that's what I saw. (Probably because it's what I wanted to see. )

Iz is right. I need to get laid.

I step through the front door of the club and into the main space.

It's dark in here, aided by the dark purple walls really only lit by the flashing strobe lights, and loud.

The bass pumps hard, and the bodies on the dance floor writhe.

But the dance space is not where I need to be tonight, even if the idea of grinding up against someone until we both come is appealing.

But I need more than just a sexual release.

Last night sparked my need to Daddy someone again.

It was so difficult not stepping in and making Justin's decisions for him when I could tell he was getting tired and stressed out.

I doubt he would have appreciated me doing so, for one thing, and for another.

..well, I like to negotiate limits with a partner before I go into Daddy mode.

We didn't really have time for that, and pushing myself (and my friends) into his house to make sure he wasn't unpacking on his own and building furniture late into the night was probably enough line-crossing.

So I skirt around the edge of the main club space and make my way to the stairs along the side. The upper levels contain the kink-friendly spaces where I can let go and indulge in my deepest desires.

I just hope there's a Boy here in need of Daddy's help.

Now, I know what you're thinking. I'm only twenty-two; how could I possibly be anyone's Daddy?

Part of it is what Iz calls my hero complex, sure.

But the rest? Well, let's say I was an early bloomer.

I come from a big family, and I'm the third youngest of six kids.

By the time I hit my teens and had proven myself to not be a troublemaker, my parents kind of just left me to my own devices.

I was getting good grades, I wasn't getting into fights or doing drugs or even excessively partying, so they didn't worry too much about what I was getting up to.

And what was I getting up to? Mostly porn.

Not performing it, but watching it. Reading erotic stories. Discovering that the things that really turned me on —outside of naked men in general— were...not exactly vanilla.

I found Daddy kink first. Through fanfiction, of all things, and then I started watching the porn.

..and that led me to age play. I was enthralled.

Fascinated by these men who dressed adorably and seemed so sweet and innocent (until they did amazingly, perfectly filthy things with the men they called 'Daddy').

As I got older, I started wanting to experience that myself. I wanted to be Daddy.

I already knew I had a caregiver streak —I always enjoyed taking care of my younger siblings and my older siblings' kids— and I just knew that if I had a partner, I'd want to take care of them, too.

Maybe even more than I liked taking care of family, because sex would add a whole new level to the enjoyment of looking after someone, right?

It turned out I was right. I got myself a fake over 21 ID when I started college, Googled for kink clubs, and never looked back.

I don't need the fake ID anymore, but I still visit Club Kik for the kink fulfillment.

There are three levels to this club. There is an elevator out the back, but I prefer to take the stairs.

The second level is where the Doms and Subs who like pain and restraints tend to hang out.

The far wall is lined with shackles and St Andrews crosses, and there are a couple of ceiling hooks and sex swings suspended from above, too.

In the center of the room, there are paddling benches, and the closest wall, which backs onto the stairs, houses a huge collection of toys and implements.

The rule is, once you've used one, you need to drop it into the tub beside the shelves so it can be taken away and sanitized.

And, if you're using the dildos and vibrators, you must cover it with one of the house-provided condoms. There are bowls of the little foil packets stationed all over the club.

On top of that, many of the Doms bring their own toys with them.

Like downstairs, the walls here are painted a dark color —this time a deep crimson red— and the lights are kept dim for the atmosphere. The leather couches positioned strategically around the room are all black. (They also get sanitized frequently.)

I like level two as a voyeur, but I'm in the mood to actually partake in my flavor of kink tonight, so I turn on the landing and continue up to level three.

Stepping through the door into the room up here might have you believing you're in a completely different place.

This space is brightly lit. The walls are decorated in an inviting mural of sky blue, fluffy white clouds, and brightly colored air balloons.

The thumping bass from downstairs is almost completely silenced by soundproofing barriers and, instead, the music playing here is soft and instrumental.

Uplifting, but kept to a gentle background level.

This is Little Heaven.

There are giant teddy bears, an epic train set, blocks and a coloring station, as well as two private change rooms which I know are fully equipped with adult-sized changing tables and toilets that look like oversized training potties, along with all the supplies you could possibly need for changing time.

One of the doors is currently closed, which means it's in use, but the other door is open.

It's not the largest or most opulent age play room I've heard of, but it's the best I've found in the local area, and it still gets its fair share of use from Littles and Pups alike.

It's a welcoming space to come and hang out with like-minded people, and I smile and nod at a few familiar faces as I step further into the room and survey tonight's gathering.

"Hi Gabe," Taylor, a Little I've played with on and off, waves at me from where he's pushing a car down a plastic track. He has a pacifier clipped to his coveralls, and he looks particularly adorable with his curls all messed up tonight.

I wave back and head towards him, greeting, "Hey, Tay-Tay, having fun tonight?"

Smiling and nodding, he sends the car hurtling down the track and makes a 'vroom vroom' sound as he watches it go. "Yep," he answers cheerily. "I'm playin' with a new Daddy."

I'm not surprised. Taylor, who is in his thirties and is a lawyer by day, is a catch.

I look around, wondering which Daddy has the honor of playing with him tonight, just as a sinfully attractive older man steps forward with a sippy cup outstretched.

He hands it to Taylor and then turns his attention to me.

I smile warmly at the new Daddy and his salt and pepper beard moves with his returning grin. We exchange short, but friendly 'hey's in greeting, but I can tell I'd be outstaying my welcome if I hung around with them for too long, so I continue my slow exploration of the space.

It seems like mostly couples tonight, and while I wouldn't be opposed to joining as a couple's third, I really just want to be someone's sole focus for a couple of hours and have them be mine.

Sadly, it's a quiet night and it seems as if my plan may not pan out, so I decide to head back down to the main club space and see if maybe anyone dancing down there might be interested in playing with me tonight .

I'm three songs in when a familiar face catches my attention under the flash of a strobe light, and my heart skips a beat.

No way.

What are the chances?

With my hips moving to the beat of the current song and excitement simmering under my skin, I move in on my prey.

His back is turned as I slide up behind him, and I enjoy how much taller I am. I'm six foot one, and he can barely be five eight, if I had to guess, and I love that I can lean down and murmur in his ear, "Hello, stranger."

Justin just about leaps out of his skin. He spins to face me, his hand at his throat, and I almost feel guilty for startling him, but then he starts to laugh. "Wow," he says, "this is a coincidence."

I'll say.

I thought he was vanilla.

I look him over, enjoying the way his jeans are practically molded to his legs and perfect bubble butt, and I smile a little at the faded green t-shirt with a vintage Batman motif. "Do you know where you are right now?" I find myself asking him.

His cheeks color. It's visible even in the near-darkness of the dance space. But he raises his chin defiantly. "I'm not straight," he declares. "I'm bi. So, yes, I know I'm in a gay club."

Given the number of same-sex couples writhing around us, he could be forgiven for the assumption. But he's wrong.