I leave my bottle of beer on the kitchen worktop and go to check in on the kids. They’re both fast asleep.
“I’m going to put my phone on speaker and get undressed,” I tell Corey once I’m in my bedroom with the door closed. “Will you do the same?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I put my phone down on my bedside table and take my clothes off. Through the speakerphone, I can hear rustling and the occasional soft thud, so I know Corey is stripping too.
“When you’re naked, get your dildo, some lube, and make yourself comfortable on your bed.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
I lie under my covers, with my phone resting on my chest, idly stroking my cock as I wait for him.
“I’m ready, Daddy.”
“Describe your dildo to me.”
“Umm… It’s blue.”
I turn down the phone. “You can do better than that, sweet boy. You’re an artist. Tell me what it looks like as if you were describing a sculpture by Michelangelo or Bernini.”
“You’ve heard of Bernini, Daddy?”
“Of course. He originated the High Roman Baroque style of sculpture in the mid-seventeenth century.”
“Fuck, I love you, Daddy.”
I chuckle. “Does talking about art turn you on?”
“Not normally, but if you keep talking about it in that sexy voice, it just might.”
“Right now, I want you to talk to me about art. Describe your dildo. I want to be able to close my eyes and picture it as if I was there with you.”
“It’s a soft blue, bordering on purple,” Corey says. “It’s not actually shaped like a dick. The shaft is the same thickness from top to bottom.”
“How thick?”
“Roughly four centimetres in diameter.”
“How long?”
“About sixteen centimetres.”
I hum at the thought of him plunging the dildo into his arse. “Go on.”
“I could just send you a photo.”
“That wouldn’t be nearly as fun. Tell me all about it, sweet boy.”
“It’s got a rounded head and a flanged base. It’s textured.”
“Textured?”
“It’s got ridges flowing around it, and in the gaps, there are different sized bobbles. It looks like psychedelic art but in one colour, obviously.”
“Psychedelic sculpture?”
“That works.”
