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  1. Summary: Julian is a bedwetter and diaper lover who likes to pretend to be little. When he starts university, he doesn't feel comfortable staying in the dorms and ends up renting a room in the house of an older man named Alexander. Alexander is tall and athletic and very handsome, and Julian dreams of having him for a Daddy Dom. Perhaps it's meant to be? Author's Note: So, this is a story I've been working on for a long time and feel like I'm finally getting somewhere with, so I've decided to start posting it. It's actually inspired by a pair of characters from one of my Sims games, with a bedwetting and incontinence mod plus a lot of custom content, so I've got some screenshots I can share with you all as well. The names of some of the locations and other things mentioned are taken from The Sims 4 and the Discover University expansion pack. I hope you enjoy it! CW for this chapter: sexual content, misgendering, dysphoria ———————— Chapter 1. Julian rang the doorbell, looking up at the house while he waited. It was nice. Not huge, but definitely among the nicer houses in Britechester, a town known for its fine old architecture. It was the home of Professor Alexander Jones of the History, Languages, and Literature departments at UBrite. Julian expected a kindly old man or a stern teacher, but that was not what greeted him when the door opened. The man in front of him was in his mid to late forties. His brown hair was dusted with silver and he wore a tweed suit, all of which was in keeping with Julian’s idea of distinguished UBrite professors. But Professor Jones was also tall, broad shouldered, and decidedly well built. His slacks clung to his thick, muscled thighs, and even through the suit it was impossible not to see that this man was in peak physical condition. ‘Ah! You must be Julian. Come in!’ ‘Er . . . thank you.’ Julian smiled and stepped through the door. No one told me UBrite professors were muscle daddies, he thought. I wonder what the ones at Foxbury are like. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Professor Jones,’ he said. ‘Alexander, please.’ The man gave him a brilliant smile, making Julian’s heart pound. ‘I’m not your teacher. Not yet, anyway. What were you planning to study?’ ‘Oh, I’m going to Foxbury, not UBrite.’ Julian smiled. Alexander raised an eyebrow. ‘Bold of you, to tell me you’ll be going to the competition.’ Julian laughed. ‘If UBrite gave Honours degrees in STEM fields, I’m sure that’s where I’d be going, but as it is, Foxbury’s the place for a budding engineer.’ ‘Hmm. Well, to each his own. I expect you’ll want to see the room.’ He led Julian up two flights of stairs, to the top floor of the house, and opened a door. The room was large and comfortable-looking, with a bed, dresser, closet, sofa, and desk. ‘You’ll have your own bathroom,’ said Alexander, walking through the room and opening a door. Julian peeked inside. The bathroom was blue-tiled, with a corner bathtub, shower, and plenty of cupboard space. That was good. ‘This looks really nice,’ said Julian and grinned. ‘I’ll take it if you’ll have me.’ ‘Well, you seem like a nice young man.’ Alexander smiled. ‘So, I don’t see why not. Any particular reason you won’t be in the dorms, though?’ Julian looked down. ‘I . . . couldn’t get a single room. And I kind of need my own bathroom.’ ‘Oh? Why?’ Julian shrugged. ‘Well, you should probably know anyway. I’m trans. Three years on hormones and got my top surgery earlier this year, but I don’t feel quite comfortable sharing space. I’d like to pass if I can, and there’s no way of really doing that in a dorm with communal showers. Plus, I have a medical condition.’ Alexander cocked his head to one side. ‘What kind of condition?’ Julian looked down, blushing a little. ‘It’s kind of embarrassing, sir.’ ‘Well, I won’t laugh,’ Alexander promised. His voice was kind and he looked sincere. ‘I . . . suffer from night time incontinence,’ Julian confessed. ‘So, I wear diapers to bed. Kind of awkward if you’re sharing a room.’ ‘Hmm, I imagine it would be.’ Alexander nodded sympathetically. ‘Well, I don’t care about any of that. Thank you for being so honest with me, though. I appreciate honesty and openness. You can expect the same from me, should you choose to accept.’ ‘You’re offering me the room, then?’ Julian asked. ‘Absolutely. In fact, I’ll be disappointed if you don’t take it.’ Julian grinned at the older man. ‘Okay, then I will. Thank you, Professor!’ The professor smiled. ‘I thought I told you to call me Alexander.’ # ‘Ah! Daddy! Harder, Daddy!’ Julian cried. He lay on his stomach on a bed in his favourite club, being pounded by a large man in his thirties. The man picked up the pace, slapping Julian’s behind a couple of times as he did. ‘Such a dirty little girl!’ he growled. Julian froze. ‘Unicorn,’ he said. The man didn’t stop. ‘Unicorn!’ ‘Oh! Sorry.’ The man climbed off him. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you. What’s wrong? Didn’t you like being called dirty?’ Julian sat up and faced him, arms crossed over his chest. ‘I didn’t like being called a girl,’ he said. ‘What part of the “no misgendering” clause in our negotiation did you not understand?’ ‘Sorry,’ the man said again. ‘I . . . You’ve got girl parts and with you facing away, I forgot.’ ‘They’re not girl parts,’ said Julian. ‘They’re my parts, and I’m a boy.’ ‘I’m sorry.’ The man sounded more sincere now. ‘I’m . . . I’m not used to being with trans guys. I’m bi, I don’t really see gender.’ ‘You gender genitalia just fine,’ Julian mumbled, looking away. ‘I’m really sorry, Julian. Please forgive me and let’s continue. Weren’t you having fun?’ The truth was that Julian had been bored nearly to tears. This daddy wasn’t rough enough, and he was too young to be a real daddy anyway. Julian preferred men who were old enough to be his real father, but this one had seemed nice enough so he’d thought he would give it a try. Clearly, that had been a mistake, as he was inexperienced at being a Daddy Dom. ‘I was,’ Julian lied. ‘But I lost the mood when you called me a girl. I’m sorry. I suggest next time you’re with a trans person, you pay better attention to the agreement.’ He got off the bed and went to fetch his clothes. He got a clean diaper out of his bag. ‘At least let me help you get that on,’ the man said. ‘That’s easier, isn’t it?’ Julian sighed. ‘Fine.’ He handed over the diaper and lay on the bed. ‘No powder?’ the man asked. ‘No need, I’m going straight home. Got homework I need to do tomorrow.’ ‘Homework? You’re not still in high school, are you?’ The man looked slightly concerned. ‘No,’ said Julian, laughing a little. He knew he looked a little younger than he was, like many trans guys. ‘I’m at university. I study engineering at Foxbury. Don’t worry, I’m twenty like I said.’ ‘Is it your second year?’ ‘No, I’m a fresher. I just took a year off before applying. I wanted to have my top surgery first. I know I’m easy enough to clock, but I don’t walk around wearing trans flags. I’d like to pass if I can.’ ‘I didn’t clock you,’ said the man, closing the tabs on the diaper. ‘There, all done.’ ‘You misgendered me,’ Julian reminded him. ‘It was a heat of the moment thing. When I saw you, I just saw a cute boy in a onesie. I didn’t realise you were trans until you told me.’ Julian smiled. ‘I don’t quite believe you, but I appreciate it all the same.’ He got up and went over to his clothes again. He pulled on the onesie, then put on his loose jeans and t-shirt over it. ‘I’m sorry this didn’t work out.’ ‘Not as sorry as me,’ the man said, smiling. # Julian had been at university a month now. He enjoyed his classes and had gotten to know a few of his classmates well enough, but not exactly made any friends. He usually went to the club in the city on weekends, rather than hang out in the student pub in Britechester. So far, it was the only BDSM club he’d found where ABDL was not only accepted but encouraged, though they catered to a wide array of kinks. At the club, he could be himself. He’d walk around in his blue onesie with fluffy socks, a teddy bear and a pacifier and ask people, ‘Have you seen my Daddy?’ The ones who were into adult baby age play and didn’t mind trans boys loved it, and he rarely left the club without having had a partner. The man he’d been with tonight had reacted by pinching Julian’s cheeks and saying, ‘I’ll be your Daddy, kiddo. Wanna come play with me?’ They’d sat down at a table, worked out the terms, and when they got to their room, Julian had wet himself, thrown a temper tantrum, been spanked and then fucked. Honestly, in spite of the slightly half-assed scolding and spanking, it had been fine until they got to the fucking. Maybe the man just hadn’t been big enough to give Julian the pounding he craved. It was nearly midnight when he got home, so he was surprised to find Alexander in the living room with a tumbler of whisky, reading a book. ‘Hey you. Been out?’ The older man smiled, and Julian found himself wishing he’d run into his landlord at the club instead of the man he’d been with. Alexander was dressed casually, in neat jeans and a t-shirt that showed off his extremely muscular arms. Julian had found Alexander had gym equipment in the basement and did strength workouts for half an hour every morning. He also went jogging twice a week. He was a very disciplined man. Julian, on the other hand, had never been athletic; he was a nerdy blonde with glasses who dreamt of working in robotics. His pudginess and his smooth, round face lent themselves well to toddler roleplay, though. ‘Yeah.’ Julian returned the smile as best he could. ‘Did you go to Pepper’s?’ Alexander asked, referring to the student pub. Julian shook his head. ‘No, I went clubbing in the city.’ ‘By yourself? Or was it a date?’ Julian had noticed that Alexander often asked about where he’d been. The questions didn’t feel invasive, and it wasn’t like he was policing Julian’s movements, but his curiosity always took the young man by surprise. ‘Not exactly.’ Julian blushed again, and Alexander seemed to notice. ‘Something more casual, then.’ He smiled mischievously. ‘You want a drink?’ Julian rarely drank alcohol when he went to the club, preferring to be one hundred percent in control for the negotiations. Tonight, he’d had a couple glasses of orange juice when he’d arrived, to make sure he’d need to pee when he got picked up for play. He’d felt like bratting. ‘Why not?’ he said, sitting down. ‘Gotta warn you, though. I’m not exactly a whisky connoisseur.’ Alexander smiled, standing up and heading over to the bar cabinet. ‘A little one, then,’ he said. ‘With just a drop of water.’ He handed Julian a tumbler. ‘Old Yorkfield, sixteen years. Should be to your tastes.’ ‘What are you drinking?’ Julian asked. ‘McDillan’s,’ Alexander replied, taking his seat again. ‘Not for novices, I’m afraid. It’s very smoky. If you handle the Yorkfield well, maybe you’ll graduate to McDillan’s.’ He winked and Julian blushed a little again. He was suddenly all too aware that he hadn’t orgasmed with the man at the club. And Alexander oozed big dick energy. He took a sip of the whisky and made a face. ‘Wow. That’s strong.’ Alexander laughed. ‘You’ll get used to it. So, tell me about your not-date. Did you have fun?’ Julian bobbed his head. ‘It was okay at first. But . . . he misgendered me halfway through, so I left.’ Alexander frowned. ‘That’s not very polite. I’m sorry that happened to you.’ ‘Extra not polite since we’d negotiated—’ Julian cut himself off. Negotiation was not a part of casual sex outside the kink community, he reminded himself. ‘I mean, since I’d told him straight out not to do that.’ He took another sip of the whisky. It went down smoother now and he was already feeling a little woozy, no doubt because he hadn’t eaten since before he went to the club. ‘Don’t understand why boy pussy’s so hard to accept,’ he mumbled, then froze. Had he really said ‘boy pussy’ in front of his university professor landlord? The man who wore tweed every day, like a proper gentleman? ‘I mean—sorry, that just slipped out.’ Alexander laughed, but his face was kind. ‘I’m not a prude, Julian. I’ve been ’round the block a few times. I’m pretty sure there’s nothing you could say that would shock me.’ What about ‘I like pretending I’m three years old and having strange men change my diaper, spank me, fuck me, and occasionally piss on me in BDSM clubs’? Julian thought, but outwardly he just smiled and drained his tumbler. ‘I should get to bed. Got homework in the morning.’ ‘I’ve been meaning to say,’ said Alexander as Julian stood, ‘if you need someone to proofread your papers, I’d be happy to help.’ ‘Oh, no,’ said Julian. ‘I couldn’t ask you to do that.’ ‘You wouldn’t be asking me to, I offered,’ said Alexander. ‘And I mean it.’ His tone was commanding and sent shivers down Julian’s back. ‘Oh. Okay. Well, thanks, I . . . I appreciate that.’ ‘No worries,’ said Alexander. ‘I’m teaching fewer classes this semester, cause I’m working on a thesis with a couple of PhD candidates. You probably won’t believe it, but I miss grading papers. Proofing yours would fill a need, even if I can’t understand half of what’s in them.’ He laughed. ‘Not one for physics?’ Julian asked. Alexander shook his head. ‘I’m a Humanities man, and I always have been. Now, off to bed, young man.’ He had a twinkle in his eye, but there was that commanding tone again. Julian could feel his heart pound in his groin. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said, and went up the stairs. Once in his room, Julian locked the door and stripped down to his onesie. He got on the bed and humped his pillow until he came and then wet himself, thinking of Alexander’s strong arms holding him down. Afterwards, he lay there panting for a long time. ‘This is bad,’ he mumbled. ‘This is really, really bad.’ If he’d ever wanted someone to be his daddy full time, it would have to be Alexander. He wasn’t sure anyone else could measure up.
  2. I wrote this a while ago as the idea came into my head, and have tweaked it a little bit since. There is, I think, the possibility for a continuation, but it depends on inspiration, motivation, and whether anyone would even be interested in reading more. Read the tags for content warnings, and enjoy! Andi’s hand shook as he struggled with his keys. He stood walking in place, jaw clenched, and a small whimper of frustration escaped him before he managed to get the key in the lock of his front door. Once inside he threw down his bag, and left a trail of scarf, jacket, and boots as he raced towards the bathroom. He pulled the door shut on reflex even though he now lived alone. He hesitated, glancing at the toilet. He needed to go so badly he felt like he would burst, but after a brief moment’s consideration he stripped down to his boxer-briefs and turned towards the shower. Shifting his weight back and forth between his feet he wondered if he should take them off or not. In the end he left them on, and stepped into the shower. He stood there for a good while, occasionally moaning, whimpering and swearing, still shifting back and forth, rocking on the balls of his feet. He stuck a hand in between his legs and grabbed himself. He could feel that he was hard, but of course he was. ‘Shit,’ he murmured. ‘Shit, shit, fuck . . .’ He felt the pressure building, until he couldn’t think, could barely breathe, and he sobbed as he couldn’t hold it in anymore, and his urine began to flow down his legs, through his pants, splashing onto the tiles beneath his feet. ‘No! No . . .’ He sank to his knees, panting and sobbing, feeling the warm pee underneath him. He touched the front of his boxers, rubbed himself through the fabric, and a final spurt of urine soaked his hand. He grabbed one of his nipples between the fingers of his other hand, pinching, and kept stroking his sex until his sobs turned to groans of pleasure and he finally came. Sitting there, in a puddle of his own piss, he didn’t want to get up. Didn’t want to take his pants off, even though they were quickly becoming cold and uncomfortable. In the end, he did anyway. Andi had two secrets. One was this, his most shameful kink. That he liked to hold his pee in until he wet himself. That he got off on it. The other was that he was only a few months a ‘real’ boy. He’d been on T for a little over half a year. His voice had dropped. He had gotten hairier, his skin had changed, as had his body fat ratio. He had always been quite flat chested, though what little tits he had still bothered him, as did what was, or wasn’t, between his legs. He did have a dick, the clitoris having grown significantly. It was about an inch long now, about an inch and a half and much thicker while erect. He was proud of his dick. It couldn’t penetrate anyone, but then he had always preferred bottoming anyway. Still, he hated to think about it, to look at it. His vulva. He’d hoped his dick would grow bigger than this. It still might, of course, but a lot of the guys he’d spoken to said theirs grew most in the first six months on testosterone. Whether or not he’d have surgery at some point he hadn’t quite decided, but he really wanted to. Top surgery was a given, and he was already on a waiting list. Andi hadn’t had sex in a long time. Not since he started trying to pass. Well, not until recently, that is. Not until Ronan. Ronan, who had been his best friend for a long time, and who somehow took everything in stride. When they had first met, online, Andi’s transition had been in its infancy. He had only just started to accept that he was trans, and the first thing he had done was try to be a boy online. Ronan was the sort of person who inspired trust, so eventually Andi had told him everything. He had been completely cool with it. He hadn’t asked any weird or invasive questions. He had simply listened, and when Andi had asked if he was freaked out, he had written: Why? You’re the same person now that you were five minutes ago. You’re my friend. And I want you to be happy. Since that moment, Andi had shared his fears, his body dysphoria, what his doctors and therapists told him, and his hopes for the future with Ronan. And then, at some point, his fantasies and his kinks, and that was when their relationship had changed. They had talked about all of it, and then explored it in detail, first with a series of phone calls and Skype sessions, and then finally, a few weeks ago, in person. The fact that Ronan, who was gay, wanted to be with Andi almost served to make him feel more like a real man than the hormones could. But this last kink even Ronan didn’t know about, and he never ever would. If he ever found out . . . Andi was sure even Ronan couldn’t accept something like that. Who would? It was, objectively speaking, gross. Urine was not a natural part of sex. Of course, it wasn’t the urine itself that turned him on. It was the desperation, and the act of wetting himself. The shame of it. Shame and humiliation were already present in his and Ronan’s play. When they were together, Ronan had tied Andi up, spanked him, made him choke on his dick, and Andi had loved every second of it. The memory was enough to make him blush. Ronan was naturally dominating, and being submissive with him felt wonderfully freeding. This, though, this was different. Lately, Andi’s wetting fantasies had taken on a different form. He imagined not doing it alone. He imagined Ronan telling him when he could and couldn’t pee—much the same way he sometimes forbade him from touching himself without permission—refusing him access to the toilet until he was a shivering, desperate mess. He pictured Ronan making him wet himself on command, and sometimes he imagined Ronan fucking him while he was holding, fucking his arse until he couldn’t hold it in anymore and pissed. Then he would get disciplined with a spanking. He could never, ever tell Ronan what he was imagining. The whole thing had started back when his transition was in its infancy, pre-T. Back when he had begun trying to pass. At the time he had felt very uncomfortable with public bathrooms. He didn’t want to use the ladies’ room because he wasn’t a woman, but he felt like if he used the men’s room they would see straight through him. They would call his bluff, they wouldn’t see him as a real man. So whenever he was away from home, he refused to use the toilet. One evening he had been out for a drink with some good friends who called him Andi instead of Anna, and used the correct pronouns, and it had been a really good time. He had rather a lot of beer. He was quite used to holding his pee in by then, and could usually handle it, but it got a lot more difficult when he was drunk, and on his way home at two in the morning, it happened. He wet himself. It was dark, but there were some people about. Andi froze, completely mortified, hoping to God that no one would notice. It didn’t seem like anyone did, but he had never felt more embarrassed or terrible about himself. As soon as he could shut off the flow, which was easier said than done, he ran the rest of the way home and locked himself in the bathroom, sobbing. Not seeing any point in holding it in anymore, he let go and finished wetting himself on the bathroom floor. After pulling off his sopping wet jeans, he got in the shower and washed. He got off twice, went to bed, and got off again. The next morning he woke up wanting to do it all again. Thinking about that night (what he had since come to think of as his second awakening, the first having been when he accepted his true gender) still made him hard. Andi turned on the shower, washing the urine from his legs and the floor. He made the water as hot as he could take, and while he stood under it, began to stroke himself. He pictured Ronan while he did, and tentatively reached back, pushing a wet finger inside his arse. He moaned loudly, and a little bit of leftover pee trickled out. His fingers didn’t really feel like enough, though, and he stepped out of the shower and over to the bathroom cabinet. He had left his dildo there the last time he had got off. He found it along with some lube, and after slicking it up and stretching his hole a bit, got back in the shower and began to pump his arse with it. He moaned loudly, stroking his cock, and peed a bit more. It didn’t take him long to come. Andi cleaned himself up and got out of the shower. After towelling himself off he reached for his phone to check his messages, and the moment he touched it, it rang. Ronan’s picture filled the screen, and Andi instantly blushed. He only let it ring twice before answering. ‘Hi,’ he said, his voice a bit breathless. ‘Well, hello there, boy,’ said Ronan’s deep, silky voice. ‘You sound exactly the way I like you best,’ he purred. ‘Have you been naughty?’ Andi smiled. ‘Maybe . . .’ ‘Tell me,’ Ronan demanded. His tone of voice hadn’t changed, but it was a command nonetheless, and Andi felt a tugging sensation somewhere in the vicinity of his crotch. He may not like his XX-chromosome parts all that much, but they did give him the advantage (or disadvantage) of not being easily spent, and he immediately reached down to touch himself again, before stopping himself. ‘I just got out of the shower,’ he said. ‘I may have . . . Gotten off a few times.’ Ronan tutted. ‘Without me? I’m disappointed in you, Andi.’ ‘Guess you’ll have to punish me,’ said Andi quickly. Ronan chuckled softly. ‘If you’re so eager for punishment, boy, perhaps I should prepare some less pleasurable discipline. Silent contemplation, say.’ Andi whimpered involuntarily. ‘No? Well, I guess I do owe you a bit of a spanking. Too bad I can’t do it right now.’ Ronan sighed. ‘What are you doing?’ Andi asked. ‘Right now I’m stroking my cock, thinking of you all naked and wet in the shower.’ Andi let his hand wander down to his own dick and said, ‘Me too.’ ‘Uh-uh. Did I tell you you were allowed to touch yourself?’ Ronan asked, and Andi stopped immediately, but not before whining softly. ‘What’s that, boy? Are you complaining?’ ’N—no,’ Andi stammered. ‘Of course not.’ ‘Good. You can touch yourself when I tell you to.’ ‘Yes, sir,’ said Andi, obediently. ‘What were you doing before?’ Ronan asked him. Andi’s heart hammered in his chest. ‘Nothing, really. I was just in the shower, and then I . . . Touched myself.’ ‘How many times did you come?’ ‘Three . . . I think.’ ‘My naughty little Andi,’ said Ronan. ‘Whatever shall I do with you? It’s like you want to be punished.’ Andi swallowed, but said nothing. ‘Do you, boy? Do you want me to spank your arse raw?’ Andi moaned softly. ‘Tell me.’ Andi drew a breath, and it came out again ragged. When he spoke his voice was uneven. ‘If you want to. I’ve . . . I’ve been disobedient. I need discipline. Need to be . . . To be shamed.’ ‘You want me to shame you? To embarrass you?’ Ronan asked. Andi remained silent. His legs felt shaky. He was so turned on he could barely breathe, and he needed to pee again, too. ‘Tell me what would embarrass you most of all. What could I make you do that would be a true punishment?’ Andi spoke without thinking, without considering the consequences. It was a reflex, to answer Ronan truthfully. He couldn’t lie to him. ‘Make me piss myself.’ He covered his mouth, mortified. He had said it. What would happen now? ‘Oh?’ came Ronan’s voice. ‘Why, that’s new. What manner of kink is this?’ Andi bit his lip. ‘It’s . . . It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.’ ‘No, no, no,’ Ronan purred. ‘None of that, boy. Tell me.’ Swallowing a couple of times, Andi considered his words carefully before speaking. ‘Sometimes I . . . I like to hold it until I’m fit to burst. Getting all desperate like that . . . It, er . . . It really turns me on.’ His face felt hot, and he was stammering quite a bit. At the same time he felt more aroused than ever. Embarrassing himself like this, telling Ronan his most secret of secrets, he could almost come without even touching himself. ‘Sometimes I . . . I hold it until I wet myself, and then I get off.’ The last bit nearly turned into word salad, but Ronan seemed to catch it all the same. ‘Then I feel embarrassed, and ashamed . . .’ ‘Mmm . . . Well, I do like you desperate. I could forbid you from going to the toilet. And then, if you do wet yourself, I’d have to discipline you.’ ‘Oh God,’ Andi whimpered. ‘Please . . .’ ‘Please what?’ ‘Please, sir, may I come?’ ‘Hm, not sure you’ve earned it yet. You’ve been holding back on me, after all. Not telling me about this . . . How long have you been doing it?’ Andi swallowed. ‘Since . . . since before I started on T. Back when I started trying to pass.’ ‘And here I thought you had told me all about your fantasies, and it turns out you’ve got this squirrelled away. I’m disappointed in you, Andi.’ There was amusement in Ronan’s stern voice. ‘I’m sorry,’ Andi mumbled. ‘I . . . It was embarrassing. I thought maybe . . . maybe you wouldn’t like me anymore, if I told you. That you wouldn’t want to . . .’ ‘That I wouldn’t want to fuck you anymore?’ Ronan chuckled. ‘You’re an idiot, my little Andi. The thought of you all desperate like that, of you pissing yourself and feeling mortified about it . . . Mmm, that really turns me on.’ His voice sounded a little breathless. Andi licked his lips. ‘Ronan . . . Sir . . .’ ‘All right. Since you’ve given me so many fun things to think about, I’ll let you come, boy.’ Andi’s hand immediately went down to his crotch and he began to stroke himself. ‘Fuck . . . I’m so horny right now, I can’t even—I’m gonna—’ ‘So eager. Slow down, boy. That’s it.’ Andi did as he was asked, slowed the movement of his fingers, but he still felt so close. ‘How’s it feel?’ Ronan breathed. ‘Feels good,’ Andi moaned. ‘God . . . Wish you were here, fucking me.’ The sound Ronan made was more like a growl than anything else. ‘So do I, boy. So do I. But until I am, this will have to do.’ ‘Mhm . . .’ Andi felt breathless. ‘Fuck . . . Ronan, please . . .’ ‘Go on then. You can come.’ Andi picked up the pace. His thighs quivered, and he could barely remain standing, unable to support himself with his other hand since he was on the phone. ‘Oh, fuck! Ah!’ He came, but kept stroking, and not long after he came again. He dropped to his knees, hand still working. ‘Fuck, you sound so good, Andi. Keep this up, I’m gonna come, too. Think you’ve got another one in you?’ ‘Yeah.’ Andi kept going, eyes slipping shut. ‘I can . . . fuck! Shit . . . I need to . . .’ He hesitated, face feeling hot. ‘I need to pee.’ ‘I see. Tell you what. When you come, you can pee.’ ‘Mmh . . . Yes, sir.’ Andi stroked himself faster, getting closer and closer. ‘Ronan . . . Ronan, I’m gonna come again!’ ‘Mm, go ahead. Let me hear you. I’m so close, I’m gonna come, too. Wish I could come in your mouth. All over your face.’ That was all it took, and Andi gave a loud shout as he came a third time. He was forced to stop touching himself, as he was too sensitive to continue, and then he pissed again, letting out a moan of relief. On the other end of the line, he heard Ronan swear, and groan, voice gaining in pitch as he finally came. Andi loved listening to Ronan coming. He loved listening to Ronan, period. ‘How are you feeling?’ asked Ronan softly. ‘Good. I feel . . .’ Andi gave a breathless laugh. ‘I feel good. Thanks. Fuck . . .’ Ronan laughed as well. ‘You always sound so good, boy. Can’t wait to see you again.’ ‘You’re still coming next weekend, right?’ ‘Of course I am. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Andi. You won’t be able to walk.’ Andi whimpered. If he gave himself a few minutes, he’d be ready for another three or four orgasms, he was sure of it. His libido had already been high pre-T. Testosterone did not serve to soften it. Still, best not push his luck. As much as he loved and accepted Ronan’s discipline, there could be too much of a good thing. He cleared his throat. ‘Can’t wait.’ ‘I don’t want you to touch yourself until then, boy. Is that clear?’ Andi gave another soft whimper. ‘Yes . . . yes, sir.’ ‘Good boy. I’ll see you soon enough.’ ‘Yeah. See ya. Thank you, sir.’ They hung up, and Andi stepped back into the shower for another rinse.
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