I recently re-entered the dating world and, being an AB/DL girl, was seeking a Daddy Dom, or at least a Daddy. The search was…unpleasant. Most of the guys that contacted me just weren’t my physical type. A lot of them didn’t have interests that were actually compatible with mine, but were so desperate that they were trying me anyway. A few just seemed dumb. Others were confusing adult baby play with older-for-younger, which is a pet peeve of mine.
Then I contacted a long-time friend, F. We started talking about his problems dating. He’s pretty shy and is currently a student, despite being in his late twenties, so he feels like he doesn’t have a lot to offer a woman. However, he’s very handsome, he’s nerdy and shares a lot of my non-sexual interests. He also likes to date age appropriate women. I think he’s quite appealing and have told him so over and over again.
I actually met him when I was very pregnant with my first child. He was joining our Dungeons and Dragons group. (Don’t laugh–you know you’re jealous!) Since I was so huge, I asked a friend to get the doorbell rather than waddle down the stairs myself. I was sitting on the couch, probably dosing myself with Tums to quell my pregnancy heartburn when this super hot guy walked in the room. I said something like, “Oh, please tell me that’s the new gamer.” He blushed and laughed. It was adorable. Evidently I’ve still got it, even when I’m gigantic and not wearing any make-up!
From there we started a two-year-long dance where he would sit across from me and surreptitiously look down my blouse. I started to wear more revealing tops and dresses to help him out. (And, of course, when I caught our friend M looking down my top I got super pissed. Remember: the clingy, low-slung sweater is not always meant for you!)
My husband was horribly jealous the whole time. If I laughed at any of F’s jokes or told him that I had no idea why he was having so much trouble dating, it would lead to an hour of fighting. Don’t get me wrong, I was way more into my husband, but F was cute and I like to flirt. Then, one day in June 2011, my husband walked into my room and, out of the blue, said, “You know, you’re young and beautiful and should be able to do what you want. Go ahead and hook up with F.”
I was so happy! I spent the next two weeks shamelessly flirting with F. Then I sent him a FaceBook message asking if he wanted to do me. (Classy, I know, but I certainly wasn’t going to ask him with my baby on my hip and my husband in the next room.) He was a little shocked, but said yes. He checked in with my husband to make sure it was all cool and a week later we were having sweaty, grindy, nasty sex. He spit in my face, he pulled my hair, he held me down, he grabbed me by the hips and slammed me down on his hard, uncut cock. It. Was. Awesome.
Then he and I started a regular thing and, to keep us going between hook ups, we kept in contact via a private blog where we would share porn and dirty pictures. Things were getting pretty hot and heavy. I hadn’t been dominated like that in a while and, what made it better was knowing that this was him thinking he wasn’t even dominant. I couldn’t imagine how crazy things would get if he just owned up and admitted that he was a fucking tempest.
This is the point at which my husband got into my email, found the blog, and became incredibly, blindly jealous.
F and I cut things off. We didn’t talk. He dropped out of the DnD game. He un-friended me on FaceBook. Whatever.
Then I found out that F had been given to me not out of a selfless desire to make me happy, but out of guilt. Hubby had done something bad. I mean, really bad. As in we’re no longer hubby and wife bad.
So, a few weeks after that discovery, I contacted F out of the blue and asked how he was doing. We started chatting. I was just looking for some companionship, so I didn’t mention that I was getting a divorce. It lasted about a month before he sent a long email about his dating issues. He says that I give better dating advice than most of his buddies, probably because I’m a sex worker and spend a lot of my time being hit on by both competent and incompetent men. At the end, he asked, out of politeness, how things were going with my husband, so I told him. After profusely apologizing for not asking sooner, we started flirting again, and this time he started it!
It was only a matter of time before the rough, grabby sex started up again. I mean, I was getting hit on my by husband’s so-called friends left and right, many of them attractive, but F was different. We started cybering again and we still sext each other almost constantly. Eventually he asked me for a list of all the things I wanted him to do to me in the bedroom.
It was a difficult list to write. There were a lot of things I wanted to include, but was worried would weird him out. He told me not to exclude anything and I finally justified leaving some of it out my telling myself that I didn’t really want him to do those things to me, i.e. diaper me, because then I’d have to look him in the eye the next day. But I did work in some pee play stuff and I’ve been surprised to find that he’s into it. It’s a rare specimen that can work the word “toilet” into sex chat and still make it erotic.
I’m trying to open him up to the adult baby thing. When I first mentioned that my husband had been into it, he shook his head and said, “People are weird.” Not a good sign. I also showed him some AB pictures and he has responded positively to some of them, but he’s also been pretty turned off by others.
Some progress has been made. One night we were chatting and I finally worked up the courage to ask if I could call him “Daddy.” At first he was a little surprised. “That turns you on?” He does seem to have gotten into it, though. I linked him to a post by Minx Grrl on different types of BDSM Daddies.
Last time we were together, he had me bent over his couch, one hand on my hip, the other holding a fist-full of my hair as he fucked me. He asked me to say the most dirty things, from, “Please rape me, Daddy,” to “I love Daddy’s cock,” and of course I did. It was incredibly hot, humiliating, and filthy. After I came in shuddering waves with him hilt-deep inside of me, he let go of me and I tumbled forward onto the couch. I left my hair in my face so that I couldn’t see him properly and, more importantly, he couldn’t really see me.
I was ashamed. I mean, really ashamed; more ashamed than a sex positive sex worker should be over simple, powerless words. I wanted to magically be away from there. My face felt hot, burning, knowing that he was there looking at me after I’d said those awful things, that he had only asked me to because he knew it would get me off.
He sat down next to me. “Come here, so I can hold you.”
I thought about saying no, but to what purpose? I slid over and curled up in his lap. He brushed my hair out of my face.
Still unable to make eye-contact, I said, “I want you to know that my real dad–he never touched me.”
His arms were around me. I could feel his muscle tensed just a little as he cradled me. In an instant he could push me away in disgust and tell me to get the hell out of his apartment, that what we were doing was sick and he never wanted to see me again.
“I know. I never thought that.” He kissed me. “I know it’s just a fetish.”
What a kind thing he did for me there on that couch. He didn’t define me by my kink, he didn’t assume that I must have been hurt or molested in order to want something so unorthodox. I still don’t know which path our play will take and we’re still finding out how we fit together, but when asking for all the experiences I want to share with him, I really have to remember that, even if he says no, he won’t judge me. He may not be my next Daddy and he may never come around to AB/DL play, but at least I can trust him to understand that, “It’s just a fetish.”