“Grrrr,” I say, my frustration getting the better of me as I color outside the lines on the baby elephant’s trunk. “Silly, silly, silly Daddies!”
In my frustration, I thump my fist down onto the floor. But as I do this, I feel my special place grind against the hard wooden surface beneath the rug and before I know it, I feel my entire body tingle with arousal.
Those Daddies with their broad shoulders, square jaws, strong asses and legs that looked like they could crush watermelons between them…
I wonder what they’re doing with their Littles now?
Spanking them?
Making them suck their big, stiff Daddy cocks?
I feel my hips raise up and after a quick unbuttoning, I slide my hand inside my romper. It doesn’t take long before I’m extra-hard and close to the edge, moaning softly in pure sensual delight as I imagine myself in the place of those two Littles, my naked body on display and at the mercy of the three Daddies in the diner.
But what pushes me truly over the edge though is the image of the Kindle reading, espresso sipping Daddy towering over me, his cock in his hand and a look of wicked lust in his eyes…
He knows I was writing him off as a poser, and now it’s his payback time…
“Oh my gosh,” I call out, my body unexpectedly climaxing hard and fast as I imagine this man—a total stranger—pushing his cock all the way inside my mouth as I’m groped and spanked by the other two Daddies in attendance. “Oh…wowwww.”
My hips buck and my body writhes in pleasure as I lose all track of my thoughts and give myself totally to the fantasy, feelingit all so keenly that I barely remember my own name let alone where I am.
“It’s definitely time for bed, Bean,” I say, breathless, my face buried into the rug’s plush warmth and a little line of post-orgasmic drool falls from my mouth—and that’s without mentioning the hot, sticky mess I’ve made over my tummy. “But a bit of clean up first though. That’s if my legs are strong enough to get me to the bathroom…”
Chapter 2
Travis
I guess you could say I’m a little different from most of the Night Ops Guard, certainly when it comes to life outside of missions.
While the other guys love nothing more than hitting the gym, grabbing some beers, or finding their next extreme sport to take up as a hobby, I’m all about the slightly more cerebral things in life.
Reading a good book?Superb.
Reading a good book with a perfectly roasted and prepped coffee?Even better.
All the above, but in a late night diner with just me and my thoughts?Perfection.
I love culture, whether it’s books, films, art, even the opera. If I can immerse myself in a piece of work, I will do—and over the years I’ve found that nothing else comes close to being able to take me out of my thoughts and memories of missions gone wrong, the difficult decisions I’ve had to make, and some of the genuinely upsetting things I’ve seen.
The other Guards deal with all this in their own way, and that’s great.
But as far as I’m concerned, I like to use my mind as a tool to help work things out. That’s not to say that when it comes time for a mission I’m any less of a Guard than the others. When it’s business time, I can be the most ruthless, decisive, and physically explosive Guard of them all… and I’ve got the scars to prove it too.
And maybe that’s why I’ve been allocated a slightly different mission this time.
Fresh from a jungle manhunt that resulted in one large narcotics lab being shut down, child slaves being freed, and a whole pile of drug dealers being killed, I’ve been given a somewhat more relaxed operation.
But more on that in a minute.
“Espresso, and keep them coming,” I say, a hint of a smile on my face as I place a bill down on the counter and slide it over toward the waitress. “Any change, you keep it.”
“Got it,” the waitress replies, a look of appreciation on her face—but a hint of intrigue too as I turn and catch her watching me walk toward the third booth over by the window. “Have a nice evening.”
I slide into the booth and feel the worn, soft leather against my arms as I position myself just right. I place my Kindle down on the immaculately clean tabletop and nod my thanks as the waitress passes my table and places the first of what is sure to be a few espressos next to me.
As I click the button to turn my Kindle on, I glance around the diner. All the typical cast of characters are here. Young hipsters excitedly talking about the revival theater’s latest screening, couples sobering up after a night on the booze, lonely folk passing the night with a coffee and their own thoughts. And then there’shim.
The boy is cute, that’s for sure. Way too cute to be having anything to do with the Guard. He’s in his late twenties but has an innocence to him that makes him seem younger. It’s disconcerting, but not in a bad way.
