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"Sorry, boy. I had to use this dump truck sooner or later."
BJ clutches his sides from laughing so hard, before leaping through the air and plopping down in my lap. "Oh, you’re bad, Daddy! But you have such a beautiful dump truck. Let me drive."
I kiss the back of his head. "No, boy. This dump truck is grown-man sized. It’s not for a boy like you to steer."
I drive my toy dump truck all over the playroom, bashing into various objects, even the half-destroyed ducky apartment building. BJ laughs the entire time, so hard that tears roll down his cheeks.
When we finish our fun, we drop to our knees and rebuild the apartment center.
Right after we move the happy duckies in, BJ tells me that he has to make lemonade so I pull out a potty that I bought and tug down his khakis.
I see that he’s wearing the cutest traffic cone briefs, and his petite traffic cone doesn’t escape my attention, either.
I grip the base as I direct it toward the potty. "Come on now, BJ. Don't be shy."
BJ whines, thrusting his arms around me. "I-It’s too hard."
"Squeeze."
BJ’s body clenches and he manages to make his lemonade. I watch his wee as it happens, in love with the sight. He’s cut and petite, and in my giant palm, it grows even harder.
BJ slips out of my grip and leaps up and down when he finishes. "I did it!"
I pull out a sheet of stickers and patch a gold star on his forehead. "You sure did."
His wee bounces up and down as he shimmies and shakes, and I can’t help but look upon him with pride. Yes, this is a happy Little who trusts his Daddy, indeed. There’s no self-consciousness with him. Nothing that could ever make him afraid of trusting me.
I almost shed a tear, before I push out a growl and force it back. No. No. I will not grow emotional even though this means so much to me.
"Onesie time, BJ." I remove a dump truck onesie I redeemed five club bucks for at the toy counter in the main Hug Club playroom and bring it to BJ.
He rushes toward me, then bows his head. "Help me init, please."
I lift his left leg, then put it in the onesie. I do the same to his right.
I pat his ass and cock after I button it up. "Good boy."
BJ groans as he looks down. He pumps his hips into my hands, loving the way I hold him from the back and front. "If you don’t take your hands off me, my light’ll turn green, Daddy."
I lean in and kiss his bulge. His cock twitches under my lips, itching for a suck, but I restrain myself.
I’m a good man.
A patient man.
I heave BJ into my arms and bring him back to the pile of pillows. "I think it’s time for a story."
FIVE
BJ
The story Bryce reads to me is the perfectest story ever.
It’s about a dump truck that accidentally rolls away from his job site. He finds himself in a strange land filled with cars that aren’t dump trucks that don't understand how he speaks.
He tries to zoom his way back, but he keeps running into obstacles. One is a police officer that says that dump trucks aren’t allowed on a particular street. Another is a traffic cone that accuses the dump truck of running him over.
At last, the dump truck finds a tire that also rolled away from the job site. They join forces and find their way back together.
