daddy's girl

story time

I always loved the atmosphere to Spencer's apartment. It was mature and scholarly. Back in collage all I knew was grungy dorm rooms and college boys who tasted like alcohol, which also fit perfectly for each other.

It had low lighting and sophisticated artwork on the walls. A lovely vintage record player sat by the wall under his plaques and degrees, along with a collection of music under it. Of course, he always preferred Mozart but I've slowly started to introduce him by more recent music. And by "Recent", I mean the 80's at the absolute latest. his music choice just so happened to bring back back traumatic memories of my middle school violin lessons. So we decided to incorporate some Queen and David Bowie as well.

I scanned through the collection we had assembled with my fingers running over the labels as I read. Finally I settled on the Harry Styles record i snuck into his collection. He seems to love it. I pushed it into the player and put the needle down onto my favorite track. The song echoed through the area of his large apartment. I smiled gently to myself as I stood up, swaying gently along to the sounds coming from the machine. Listening to the gentle words of love and lust, I couldn't help but connect it to my own experience.

Spencer and I haven't had sex in over two weeks. That may not seem like that long, but it feels like it. Which is ironic, because everything that he does makes me so wet. I would see him lick his fingers before turning a page. Then I would see him fidgeting with the belt synched around his waist and imagined how it would go if he were to pull it off and bind my hands with it, or maybe how the leather would feel whipped against my skin. Then the vicious cycle continues.

I went into our bedroom and slid off my jeans and fall sweater, and then threw them in the laundry bin because I know how he loves tidiness. I slid on a pair of his boxers that i have claimed as mine, and took down my hair, letting it fall down onto my shoulders in waves. I stepped back into the living room and turned down the volume on the record player just a little bit.

"Spencer?" I called, and he hummed again in response, just like he did minutes before. "Do you think that I could sit in your lap and you can read me your book?"

"Yes, but I didn't think- I mean, you want me to... um... yes. I can do that." He finally gave a solid response.

"Good." I said with a gentle smile. I approached his desk with a certain confidence that only comes with being looked at the way Spencer just looked at me. His eyes followed me as I approached him and I could tell that he was getting more nervous by the second. I liked that I could make him nervous as easily as he did me. He was a smart boy, he could figure out what I was planning on doing. But, he didn't seem to know how to react. So instead he tried not to react at all. He failed miserably.

I stepped in between his legs and sat down on his thigh facing him. I felt him tense up under me. I wrapped my arms around him and buried my face in the crook of his neck. His large hand found the small of my back and rubbed up and down the length of my spine and leaving tingles in his wake. I was in control for the time being, but based on this touch alone, he didn't plan on that lasting long. At least if this went where he thought it was going.

"Okay," he started, adjusting his hips under me and clearing his throat before he spoke again. He has read to me before in the past.

His voice was strong as sure, like this was a lecture he's given thousands of times at Georgetown. But this was one of his favorite books of all time, The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury. With that eidetic memory of his, I knew for a fact that he could read this book with his eyes closed, or even without a book in his hands at all.

As he quickly made his way through the pages of the story, I gradually began to rock my hips back and forth against his thigh, normally he calls the shots but i wanted to take charge this time. Spencer stopped reading, "What are you doing?" He stammered out, bringing a satisfied smirk to my face.

"Keep going." I mumbled against his neck, speeding up the rate of the grinding of my hips. My arms snuck from around his neck to down his chest and around his back. I let out a gentle moan as I felt the stimulation. My eyes were closed but I could feel his on me. He coughed and struggled to bring his attention back to the pages in front of him. i knew it was getting to him.