by Laurie Lochs
"I mean," Mark began, "I wouldn't disagree that they make a damn good chicken sandwich. But you can come back on your own dime."
"Fine," I said, staring at the restaurants. Nothing looked as appealing as Chick-fil-A. But suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a Wendy's. I'd never been to Wendy's but had seen them a million times on Twitter. They had a hilarious account and were always making fun of other fast food chains. I hoped they didn't hate gays like Chick-fil-A. Because I was really in the mood for a good chicken sandwich.
"What about Wendy's?" I ventured, testing the waters. If Mark said no, I would just let him choose. It let me know he was in control.
Something shot across my thighs. But I quickly pushed aside and waited for his response.
"Wendy's?" Mark said, cocking his head in my direction. It was almost like he couldn't believe I just said Wendy's. If I didn't know any better, I would've thought that he considered Wendy's to be the bane of fast food restaurants, a place hungry students only went as a last resort if there was nothing around.
I had to defend my choice. "I've never been," I said shyly, hiding behind my hand. "But they have a funny Twitter. I’d love to try."
Mark burst into laughter. A second later, he led me out of the BMW, locked the door behind him, and brought me to Wendy's. After ushering me inside, he let me order anything I wanted. Immediately, I jumped on the crispy chicken sandwich with cheese fries. I hated to think about it, but I was absolutely pigging out.
Mark handed me the cups and told me to fill his with Diet Coke. I nodded. We found a seat. When the food came, Mark let me dig in without even saying grace. I was having a little too much fun with this, especially considering the fact I’d been so damn nervous in the break room when I’d had nothing eat at all.
"So," I said over a mouthful of fries, "real estate."
Mark obviously caught that I was making a joke. "Not just any real estate," he said, sipping his Frosty which I’d begged him to get -- just to try. I took a sip of my chocolate Frosty. "Residential real estate, Kyle."
"As opposed to what?" I said, taking an enormous bite of the chicken sandwich. The crispy chicken hit my tongue like a bomb.
"Commercial, for starters," Mark said, leaning back in his chair. "What we do is residential. We help families buy and sell homes and find new places to live. As a new agent, you'll probably be working with buyers before you get a firm footing. But the money is with sellers. You want to be a listing agent. Someday, you can think about commercial -- but for now, residential will be your home."
"I see what you did there," I said with a grin, "very funny."
"You don't get where I am without telling at least one Dad joke, Kyle," Mark said with a smirk. He picked up his own chicken sandwich – which no doubt he’d gotten because I'd gotten the same thing – and took a bite. He closed his eyes as if it reminded him of a chicken sandwich he'd once had as a child, as if he were attempting to catch a memory that was fading fast, the memory of a sandwich he once enjoyed but which he would never eat again.
He swallowed and opened his eyes. I scrubbed his actions of any other meaning.
“So he thinks he's a big shot," I said, winking at him to bring the conversation back to his horrible joke. God, I was getting testy. The food must have been playing with my emotions. Who knew I could be such a brat?
"Watch it," Mark warned, sipping his Frosty. I couldn't help but let out a giggle. The Frosty left a small dot on his upper lip that I wanted to leap across the table and wipe with my hand. But I did no such thing. Instead, I simply watched this man who rescued me when I was a boy – and who was going to teach me the secrets of the real estate universe – do what he did best. Which was talk about his success.
Except two minutes later, the spot on top of his lip still hadn't gone away. I didn't have any other option. "Hold still," I whispered, reaching across the table. Mark froze in his seat as if I were going to assault him… But instead of hitting his beautiful face, I ran my finger gently over his upper lip and wiped the spot from the flesh. Mark's eyes never left mine. It was as if the entire restaurant filed out the door and went to the McDonald's across the street. It was us, us alone, us against the world, and no one could take that from us… At least, not in my memories.
"You're too nice," Mark said, a soft smile coming into existence on his lips.
I blushed. "I just like to help whenever I can," I whispered, staring at my sandwich. I took another bite and closed my eyes. Come to think of it, it did taste like something more than a stupid sandwich. Maybe I'd just been projecting my own past onto the unsuspecting man across from me. While it may not have awakened anything in Mark, the sandwich was certainly bringing me back to a time I'd once lived or at least a past memory. Did I used to go to Wendy's with my mom? Is that why the sandwich felt like a homecoming?
But before I could probe the depths of my realization, Mark slid something across the table and winked at me. “My business card,” he said with a smile. “Any emergency, anything at all, Kyle… Don’t hesitate to call me. If you ever miss class — which means I’ll never see you again — we can’t rely on chance to keep talking. Make sense?”
“Yes, sir,” I whispered, running my fingers over the matte of the card. I suddenly felt a burst of affection for this man who I’d hated with a passion just this morning. It was so luscious and thick and professional. I wanted to rub my lips across the surface because I was sure it tasted like luxury.
I slid the car into my pocket and stared at Mark. My heart burst into flames. I felt so warm and safe and… Well, I felt small next to him. Almost like I wanted him to dress me in a onesie and give me bottles… And binkies… And attention…
But before I could think about this too long, Mark checked his watch and announced it was time to head back. I’d been so caught up in staring into his chocolatey eyes I hadn't even realized what time it was.
"Bring it in the car," Mark said, gesturing to the food.
My jaw dropped. Wasn't I going to get his BMW dirty?
Mark must've read my mind. "Just the Frosty, silly," he said, "finish the rest now. Fast. But grab the Frosty."
I nodded and stuffed the rest of the sandwich on my throat. God, it was as delicious as the first bite. Thank you, I wanted to say, thank you to whoever runs the Wendy's Twitter account for getting me to try this delicious food. I never wanted to eat at another fast food restaurant again. Chick-fil-A could take their delicious chicken sandwiches and shove it. From here on out, I was a Wendy's boy.
But I was Daddy’s little man.
Chapter 12
Mark
* * *
Though I wanted to stay with Kyle after class, I had to leave immediately after for a listing appointment with a millionaire widow. They were selling their lake-front home in Wayzata and wanted a top agent to sell it. As it was over forty minutes away, I had to steal away from Kyle before class ended. But he had my business card in case he wanted to call.
The listing appointment went fine. Mrs. Bonneparte, the surviving wife of the late Mr. Bonneparte, heir of the Bonneparte family fortune, wanted to part with the home because, as she put it, there were “too many memories.” I opened up to her about needing to sell my mother’s home after my she died and how difficult it could be. My impromptu story resonated with her. She agreed to list the home with the Pressure Free Agency on the spot and cancelled her appointments with Sotheby’s International and the Wayzata branch of Edina Realty, both of which had built their business around clients like her.
I never liked mentioning my mother to clients. She’d been a strong-willed woman but a complete narcissist. So the last thing I wanted to do was think about her. Instead, I poured a glass of red wine and went the bedroom where I could hopefully get some sleep.
And replay the delicious lunch at Wendy’s we’d had that afternoon.
“Kyle,” I whispered, setting the wine on the coaster. Five hours had passed since our lunch. I couldn’t believe how close Kyle and I had
gotten by talking over chicken sandwiches. In a way, it almost felt like dating… I'd learned more about him than if we’d been on a real date with a man.
“Sweet boy,” I whispered, stroking his cheek in my mind. “Oh, little one. Daddy’s been waiting so long.”
In my mind, Kyle blushed and buried his face in his hands. He was such a shy boy, a timid little angel who needed a big strong Daddy to protect him. But instead of leaping across the table and wrapping him in my arms, I took a breathless pause to admire his beauty.
Because it truly was a sight for the gods. Everything from his thin forearms to his crystal eyes beckoned me. His beauty called me, willing me closer to the well. How I wanted to dip in, taste the water within, not just once but for the rest of my life. Because our night together had been far too short, an insufficient period to acclimate myself to him. With his rhythm. His aura.
Because Kyle was one of those boys who drew you in and kept you on the hook… From the way he'd been so nervous about getting into my car with his Frosty to the way his eyes shone when I offered to pay for his lunch… He’d already captured a significant percentage of the equity of my heart.
And it didn’t hurt that the boy was going to be a fucking shark. A real estate agent to the gods. And I wanted to play a part in that, however infinitesimal. I wanted to mold him, shape him to be the best he could be. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed by an urge to nurture him and help him grow. I was like a farmer tending to his flock who takes to the smallest lamb who can’t possibly defend herself but has potential. The boy had been through so much and he needed a man to guide him through life. Without guidance, he would do okay but he would never reach his true potential. The boy needed a mentor.
He needed a Daddy.
“Sweet boy,” I whispered, stroking myself. “You’re such a beautiful baby boy.”
It was true… I’d never seen a boy like Kyle in my life. And I’d tried really hard to find one, especially after Bruce left. I must have gone on 500 dates but nothing worked. The men I met up with – and they were “men” – didn't get what I was into and as a result didn’t satisfy my needs. They didn’t understand. Neither did I. In fact I’d been so oblivious that I hadn’t realized what I truly wanted -- which was someone like Kyle -- until last week when he stepped foot in my life. I wanted to dominate him sexually but coach him and take him from A to B in life. He was at the starting plate of adulthood. I wanted to carry him to first, second, and third -- until he finally slid into home and had only me to thank. The last thing I could handle was seeing him be scooped up by another guy.
And it was cute how much he cared about his friend Blakely. On the way back to MCTC, he told me they Skyped three or four times a week when Blakely was available… Which was often. Right now, he and Emerson were going on a road trip to Glacier National Park to see the mountains because they both liked the woods. It turns out the rumors that Emerson Lane was a pervert or a pedophile were completely baseless even though he’d announced on Channel Nine that he liked “boys.” Apparently he’d been talking about eighteen-year-old boys who were above the age of consent in every state, which should have been obvious but apparently some people didn’t think so. Kyle told me that Blakely had invited him numerous times to come back up and stay with Emerson but Kyle didn’t want to. As crazy as it sounded, Kyle didn’t like the woods, even though homesteading had been his idea in the first place. He’d had to keep it together with Blakely, though, just so Blakely wouldn’t get freaked out and want to go crawling home… Kyle wanted to be a city boy. I guessed you had to leave Minneapolis to know how good it truly was when you’d gone.
But it wasn’t just that he wanted to be in the city. He wanted to be successful. The last thing he wanted to be was a recluse who, unable to “win” at real life, throws in the towel and retreats to some solitary cabin in the middle of nowhere with no one around to compare himself to. No, Kyle wanted to grab life by the horns and win. He was a fighter, and a strong one at that. He’d mastered virtually the entire lesson in half the time as the other students. The boy was fucking smart. Smarter than I’d been, for damn sure. Even though I’d been top of my class.
And God, he was sexy. He was the sexiest boy I had seen in years. At the Wendy's, I wanted nothing more than to remove the chicken sandwich from his hands and place his palms on my wrists. "Look at me," I wanted to say. "Look at me while I kiss you. Stare into my eyes while I bring your lips to mine."
In my mind, I retraced our steps, starting from the second I spotted him in the second row of the classroom. In my mind, we didn't stay at Wendy's. We drove back to class and went to the little room he’d been sitting in before I interrupted his musings. Just like before, when I entered he was alone. Without a word, I closed the door and pressed him against the whiteboard. "Take them off," I whispered, running my fingers over his pale throat. "Do it, boy.”
“You--” Kyle began, his eyes frantic. “Y-You want me to take them off, Daddy?”
"Yeah," I whispered, kissing him. Kyle's supple body fluttered beneath my touch. Without a word, he unbuttoned the top of my jeans and unzipped the zipper. My cock sprung forth from the fabric.
"Open your mouth," I ordered, running my fingers over his hips. I pulled his shirt over his head and kissed his collarbone, pink nipples, and smooth tummy. Everything about him screamed desire me. His hazelnut eyes beckoned me like a hypnotist's black-and-white circle -- spinning softly, twirling around, around, around.
Kyle did as told. He opened his mouth. I stuck my forefinger in like I had last week when he was mine. Kyle closed his eyes and moaned, swirling his tongue over the tip of my nail. I exhaled sharply and stuck my finger into the vortex in which only pleasure existed. Warm, wet, hot. The boy's tongue on my digit lit a fire in me that Bruce’s entire body never could.
Slowly, I unbuttoned the top of his khakis and let them fall. Kyle brought his hands to his face and hid. He was so shy, he was such a delicate boy. I kissed his hip bone, savoring the way he quivered slightly at the touch. "Oh, my God," he gasped, arching into my mouth.
Gripping his ass with my left hand, I pulled his comic book boxers down just enough so that the top half of his cock was exposed but the bottom stayed put. His left leg twitched with passion. "Just suck it," he gasped, clinching the wall behind him. “P-Please, I can't take it. Please, Daddy. I-I need my cock in your mouth."
I said nothing. Knowing that he was giving his full consent, I slowly worked the last of the boxers down to his hairless thighs and exposed his throbbing cock. It swung upwards and bumped my chin. Kyle let out a moan and grabbed my hair.
“Daddy likes it,” I whispered, kissing the tip. A bead of precum emerged at the tip and I licked it.
“B-But it’s so little, Daddy,” Kyle whispered, scrunching his eyes shut. “W-Why does Daddy like such a little cock?”
“Shh,” I whispered, running my tongue along the shaft. “Daddy likes little things, Kyle. You’re perfect for Daddy.”
"I'm so scared," Kyle whispered, removing his hands from the wall and biting his fingernails. "I'm so scared, Daddy. What are you –"
"Quiet, boy."
I pressed Kyle against the wall and wrapped my tongue around his cock. The boy was softer than silk and ten times smoother. He trembled as I licked him, trembled as I brought him into my mouth. A bead of crystal precum slipped from the gorgeous tip and entered me. I swallowed the entirety of cock and elicited not just one but three curt whimpers from the shy boy.
I withdrew the cock from my mouth and brought myself up for a kiss. Kyle's body snapped to attention. He trembled beneath me as if he couldn’t believe I was making passion to his cock. I ran my fingers across his chin, nose, lips. "You're mine, sweet one," I whispered, taking possession of the boy. The same boy that had tried to take possession of me five years ago. He was mine and he wasn't getting away.
"I need it so bad, Daddy," Kyle moaned, seeking friction. Four inches of boy flesh gyrating against my abs. "I need to taste it. Please. I need you t
o make me yours."
"Say it again," I whispered, forcing him to his knees. "Say you want Daddy's cock."
"I want it, Daddy," he gasped. "I need it in my mouth."
With a grunt, I forced my cock through his open lips and filled his throat. The boy's eyes shot open as he choked on the mother load of cock flesh, filling his every orifice with man. He couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. "Take it," I commanded, yanking his hair. "Make Daddy happy. Take Daddy’s cock."
Kyle nodded frantically and blinked hard. Something shiny slipped from his eyes and rolled down his cheek. My heart raced the second I realized it was a tear. The small bead of sadness stopped at his earlobe and then, in a final display of courage, flung itself to the floor.
The boy was crying. He'd never tasted cock so good.
I wasn't going to stop. I wasn't going to relent. I was going to keep filling his mouth until every flame within him had been snuffed. Until every inch of him had been stuffed. He was mine.
I fucked his mouth, thrusting myself in and out of his gaping face hole. The boy moaned and let out a stream of tears. "Keep going," I ordered, thrusting it as far as I could down his throat. He moaned and scrunched his eyes tight, letting the cock enter him and make him whole. Seconds later, a spasm shot across my body and, before I could stop myself, I suddenly erupted in his mouth.
"Fuck," I cried, forcing my hand to the wall behind him. I gripped the base of my cock and squeezed every drop down his gaping throat. Kyle whimpered and took it. I burst into his throat one last time and emptied myself in his lungs. When I finished, I withdrew my cock and rubbed it across his lips.
Kyle gasped, thirsty for fresh air. "Did I do good, Daddy?"
"So good, baby," I whispered, painting a picture of love across his face. "You're the goodest boy in the world."
