“I thought ahead,” I said, quickly going to fetch the bear backpack. Inside it, there was a zip-lock bag filled with flour. I came back, waving it at him and grinning.“It was a very last-minute addition from Toby. I guess I gotta text him now. They had a bet.”
“A bet?” he asked. “And you’re lucky we didn’t get pulled over. That looks suspicious.”
“It’s clearly just regular flour,” I said, opening it and wrinkling my nose as a dusting of flour tickled my nose. “So, I know you know, we put it on a clean counter and we use it to roll out our pizzas on.”
“Roll them,” he said, eyes narrowing as he looked at me.
“Yeah, with a rolling pin.”
He opened a drawer and laughed. “I have one of those.”
“Every home should,” I giggled.
“Naturally.”
We rolled out the pizza dough as I told him we used it for our cinnamon rolls too. And he asked me where those were, since I’d brought ice cream and whipped cream. If I’d brought buttercream, we’d have a trifecta of cream. He was creamy enough for me as it was, though.
The pizzas turned out amazingly. They were tiny personal things with the alphabet spaghetti and sauce as the base, and so much mozzarella cheese over the top, melted to perfection. I had mine cut into four, and each one had a little space on my plate. It made my toes curl with excitement that they fit.
We were sitting at his little square table with two chairs. He grabbed the cushion from his armchair sofa and let me sit on it. “I want you to be all comfy,” he said. “And I’m not sure if my lap is available.”
I gasped. “What else is your lap being used for?”
“I meant, with the table, it’s a tight squeeze,” he said. “Oh, fuck.”
“Naughty word.”
“Sorry,” he said. “I forgot your drink. I’ve got you a juice box. Apple. You like the apple one, right?”
“I also brought some!”
“Do you mind if I have a beer?”
I nodded. “Only if I can have a sip.”
“Mhm, just a sip,” he chuckled. “Daddy doesn’t want you getting drunk.”
My body continued to have little moments of intense squeezing as it was filled with uncontrollable excitement. The fact he engaged with me like this was amazing. I loved every second of it. It wasn’t easy to find someone who would play this part with me. Most Daddies out there only wanted the submissive bedroom part.
I waited until Daddy was back with my juice box before we started eating, and I got a sip of his beer. It wasn’t nice—I definitely preferred the adult juice, a.k.a wine. “Yuck,” I said, sticking my tongue out. “That’s dirty.”
“It’s for Daddies only,” he said, taking a swig. “Let’s try these pizzas. I have high hopes.”
Me too. The fact he was going to eat one as well made me happy. He took the first bite of his pizza before I took a bite of mine. I already knew they were good. This wasn’t my first pizza rodeo, I’d ridden this a lot. Except they were often smaller, bite-sized things I had with Toby and Keaton.
“This is good,” he said, swallowing and smacking his lips.
I nodded, still chewing and savoring the taste.
My feelings for this moment were perfection. He allowed me a safe space to play little. I got the sauce from the pizza all over my face, and Daddy pulled napkins from the tissue box on the table and cleaned my mouth after each bite.
“Do you ever wear one of those toddler napkins?” he asked.
“You mean a bib?” I giggled. “I forgot to bring mine.” I could only pout in hopes of forgiveness by being cute.
“Well, next time,” he said. “That’s okay.”
“I forgot how messy pizza can be,” I said with my continued pout.
