Date: Wed, 1 Feb 2006 02:48:42 -0800 (PST)
From: "( )" <siktici@sbcglobal.net>
Subject: Just A Fantasy, Authoritarian

Disclaimer:  This is homoerotic fiction.  If you are offended by it,
underage, or such literature is restricted in your area, please obey
whatever legalities apply--otherwise enjoy.


JUST A FANTASY
Copyright 2005 Siktici


Chief Robert Gilmore, a crusty 26-year veteran of the army, my
daddy-boyfriend of eight months, stood his 6-foot, 8-inch stockiness in
my door, and shadowed me in coolness.  "Let's go," he ordered,
standing with paws on hips, his crew cut looking as severe as his
expression.  A daily runner, Big Daddy still carried around a paunch that
for me only added to his handsomeness--the quintessential daddy.
          "Let's go where? Let's go where, Big Daddy?"  I craned my
head to search his glassy green eyes, only made so by pain medication he
took for a war wound. He never talked about the wound or the war.  I
never pushed.
(Something about him made me boyish--I was about to turn twenty-five--and
that same something made me want to succeed for him.)
          "You'll see, boy," he said with a tone signaling annoyance
under control.  Secretly, I liked his tone, a bear-like grumble, mostly;
but if I made him ornery, the grumbled turned to a growl, which signaled
I had ruffled his fur.
          Grabbing my hand, Big Daddy pulled me toward the car, only
stopping long enough for me to lock my apartment.  As soon as I got in
the car, he stopped me with instructions:  "Don't ask `cause I'm not
tellin' (He said that in his growling voice)." As we rode to this
secret destination, Big Daddy continually looked at me.
          "What, Big Daddy?" I asked in "laddy," tone of voice.
          He grabbed my leg, squeezed a bit hard, and looked at me while
his tongue slowly slid warmly over his bottom lip.  Maybe at that moment,
I had turned into a fresh kill or a delectable feast.  Then in his daddy
bear-ready-for-sex voice, guttural and gravelly, he finally said,
"You're just a damn hot boy, that's all."  But he paid the complement
with his eyes on the road.
          "Where are we going?" I asked.
          His expression remained even.  I looked at him, his bushy
mustache, the salt and cinnamon crew cut, and a fleshy face over a square
jaw--so handsome.  Although we had only been together eight months, I
started to believe I loved him, and more damaging, as this sudden trip
proved, perhaps, too soon, I had fallen (again) for a man who was more
attracted to my youth and than my character.  My last daddy was--it
almost destroyed me.
On the other hand, I didn't sense that with Big Daddy, and although I
was waiting for him to use me and send me away, I would have admitted to
anyone that I wanted to be in a long-term relationship with him.  I loved
his body, a daddy's body:  his handsome face, his meatiness, and the
hair all over his body; I loved the way my body fit snuggly into his
embrace; and I especially love the secure and warm feeling I get when he
teaches me life, love, and sex lesson.  (I'm sure he doesn't think he
does.)  Just thinking of the possibilities a future with him, remembering
our passionate nights, and having him near to me made in the care made me
hard.  Keeping my cock from tenting my gym shorts was difficult so I just
folded my arms and pressed my cock down to straining.
I was becoming as anxious as he seemed to be about our destination.  We
rode on in semi-silence. In the humid Houston sun, he took Highway 45 to
an unfamiliar exit and followed the frontage road to a La Quinta. It was
the end of hazy commerce and cars mozied along 45 like longhorns in a
weary herd.  But this was the future, and this was a herd of stop and go
traffic, all belching contributions to the stifling heat.  In the waning
day of commerce we edged toward our destination until the La Quinta stood
faded and exhausted against a sky fuzzed in baked pollution.  Big Daddy
pulled his Electra 225 (he thought newer cars were for
"milquetoast-panty stains.  "Stay here," he said and patted me on the
leg.  I really loved my daddy, but bring me to a La Quinta had me a
little worried.
          "Why are we--"?
          "Just shut up and stay here."  Daddy said in mild anger.  He
had never supported his anger with violence but I was a good boy and knew
when to obey.  Yes, he was being stern with me, but I liked that about
him, too.  He came back with a key, got in the car, and said nothing as
we drove to the back.
So finally, he's treating me like my other daddy.  The thought flashed
in my mind, an ad of disappointment, and movement of subliminal
distress.
He just wants me around for his own pleasure, to worship my youth, to
indulge my slender, hairless body, and monopolize my yearning to please
him.
Maybe I deserved it for my disobedience, my inability to get involved
with older guys who really loved me, but I never thought I would end up
in the same situation.  I decided to wait to see what happened.  After
telling him about my first daddy, I never dreamed he would treat me the
same.  I wonder what I did, or said, to make him want to do this.
          We drove to the backside of the building.  It seemed the
perfect room:  one away from the street, a room to hide forbidden
desires. First rule:  never be seen with a man almost half your age.  It
had been eight months and I had never met his family.  No man wanted to
be in the position of explaining his "indiscretions," especially
indiscretions with a younger man.  He had to hide dirty little secrets
like me.
          The room was larger than it looked from the outside.  Well, at
least this place was a step up from some dirty motel.  I didn't want to
see him again after this.  He said he was my daddy; he said he would
never hurt me or humiliate me; and now he was doing just that.  I
wondered how I could have trusted Big Daddy so, because up to now, he had
been so kind, so gentle, and so loving.  My heart was sinking, so I took
a deep breath and waited for his instructions.
He wouldn't catch my gaze, another sign that maybe I was going to be
punished; he had never punished me with sex before, and up to now, he was
tender when we made love.  How could I have been so blind?  I felt like
such a fool.  I could easily just walk away, but I wanted to be sure
about him.
          "Go get undressed," he said, putting down a large gym bag and
drawing the curtains.
Glumly, I headed to the bathroom, but stopped in anger, "I'll do this
but I don't want to see you again."
"Just get in the bathroom," he said, still without looking at me.  I
wanted to see--I needed to see--his eyes; I needed to see truth in them.

As I prepared in the bathroom, I heard the increasing volume of Robin
Trower's In City Dreams playing from the other room.  Hey, that's my
favorite song.  Well, maybe it would help take the sting from the
situation:  music to soothe the increasing hurt welling up in me.
Except for a slit of light angled across the bed, the room was dark.  Big
Daddy stood in the far corner dressed in chaps, a harness, and a leather
vest.  On his head, he wore a hat with a small metal shield centered at
the hat's peak.  A glint of light bounced off it as he passed the angled
light.
          "Okay, boy," he said huskily, "it's time to fulfill your
fantasy."
          My smile widened.  He remembered.  This was not some horrible
moment of seedy, selfish sex, and he wasn't treating me like my other
lover had.  He had been listening to a fantasy I shared months ago while
we talked late into the night.  I was more than impressed, I was
grateful.
          "Come here, boy."  The coolness of the room vanished when I
walked into his warm and fuzzy arms. Then he pushed me away.  I fell
across the bed and waited with a mixture fear and excitement growing in
my stomach, but when the first heavy THWACK! stung into my flesh, the
feat vanished. Another followed, and another, and another...until my ass
burned hotly and my cock strained from the desire.
          "You need to learn, boy!"  THWACK! came another painful but
gloriously heavy, flat hand on my ass.  "You need to understand your Big
Daddy!" THWACK!
          I oozed precum into the sheets and squirmed under his
discipline, and as the pain grew more intense, I raised my ass up to meet
his hand:  I wanted it harder; I wanted my ass redder; I needed his
discipline, because for me, in that discipline there was caring, there
was love, there was security.
          Pulling to sitting, he sat beside me and pushed me over his
hairy legs, their warmth in the cool room made my cock stiffen more.  He
positioned me so that his leg separated my cock from my balls, so that my
cock laid flat on the thick of his leg, and so that my ass pushed out to
be fingered.  But first he rubbed the burning flesh of my butt, kneading
each cheek and tracing a finger lightly along my hole.  (Love calling my
sphincter my hole; it sounds so erotic to me.  Big Daddy calls it
"hole" in such a way that it makes my cock jump.
          "Now, boy, is this what you wanted?" he asked, soothing
rubbing my ass, lightly brushing the long hairs around my hole.
          "Yeah, Big Daddy, my butt is just stinging."  I lay across
his lap savoring the pleasure-pain of his spanking, savoring the
discipline of a caring daddy.
          Then suddenly he grabbed my hair, pulled me from his lap, and
shoved me belly up on the bed.  "Yeah, I remembered, boy; I remembered
everything you said.
          How treating you like the slut you are made you hot and made
your cock rock hard.  How get hot licks on that round boy-ass made you
want to do anything for your daddy.  Remember, boy?  Remember how you
said you wanted a man, dressed in leather, to knock you around some and
discipline you like the boy pig you want to be?  Remember?"
          Big Daddy's face had turned red, but not with anger, with
emotion, with passion, and desire, which showed in straining, venous
cock, it purplish head spearing strength and masculinity, spearing
aggression, spearing need.  Big Daddy looked down at me with an
expression I'd never seen before--one sinister intentions and sweet
vulnerability, changing from one to the other as if he wanted to grant my
fantasy but had misgivings.  But why he would have second thoughts, I
couldn't say.
"So are you ready for it?  Well, are you?"  The questions hissed from
his lips and a sneer twisted his lips.  He was scaring me.
          "Yeah, Big Daddy," I said but the truth wasn't in my voice.
Did he hear the fear?  I wanted this fantasy but I wasn't prepared to
its reality:  Big Daddy's aggression, my hesitant surrender.
Experiencing Big Daddy's total dominance didn't appear as erotic as the
porno movies I had watched, nor did I fearlessly surrender as the slaves
in the movie had.  I didn't know that I would react with fear.
          "Be careful what you ask for; you just might get more than you
want, boy," he growled.
Didn't he remember that this was a fantasy?  Didn't he understand that
maybe I didn't really know what I wanted?  And didn't he know that I
didn't truly understand what a master-slave entailed?  I didn't know
what to do or what to say, but I didn't want to dissapoint my Big Daddy,
so I was prepared to do whatever he wanted--no matter what.
He raised his hands to my shoulders, the battle of misgiving still
twisting his face, and roughly pushed me to my knees.  Even though the
room was carpet, pain spike in my knees as soon as they hit the floor.
"Now, show me how much you love your daddy."
          "Yes sir." I said, remember that a good slave always preceded
and succeeded responses with "sir." At that moment, looking at his
towering bulk, I realized I truly loved him.  My trembling hands tweaked
his large nipples before trailing through the thick fur of his chest and
following the soft trail to his pubes.
I smelled soap mixed with his manly scent and the muskiness of his
crevices.  The bulbous head of his cock tapped under my chin, and when I
freed his ox bow of cock, it bent north.  I loved seeing it thickness,
the strength of it, the great power exhibited in its full expansion.
His low hangers, breathing their own erotic rhythms, laid heavy and solid
in my palms. I licked them, and watched their contracting dances.  "Suck
`em, pig," Big Daddy sneered," and I obeyed, no longer in fear but in
eagerness to please.  "Now, suck this one.  Yeah, like that."  I guess
that I was doing it right, because he grabbed a hand full of my hair and
clamped me down over it.  "Yeah, pig, yeah;  now, the other, the other,
damn it.  Suck on the other one.  "  I couldn't protest because he held
my head in his crotch with his left nut still in my mouth.  But I did
mumble loud enough for him to realized that he had me pinned
"Okay, that's enough on that one, no the other one, pig.  Suck it, yeah
that it."  I sucked other into my mouth and put my head back in his
crotch.  I had learned that it turned me on; my cock throbbed at Big
Daddy's rough treatment and the orders he gave me.  And although I
didn't know exactly why the rough treatment and the humiliating language
excited me so, but I did know I didn't want him to stop.
The disapproving, sinister sneer Big Daddy wore earlier had been replaced
by drowsy pleasure as he nodded approval at my work.   "Aaaaah, yeaah,
that's my slave boy."  After I while, I leaned in to put my nose under
his balls to smell his hypnotic musk.  His cockhead, bullishly purple,
produced a steady flow of precum in the slit--glistening proof of sweet
desire.  Looking up, I met a gaze that melted me into pleasure and
comfort:  no sneer, no disapproving glare, but I saw sweet vulnerability.
I realized in the glance that my daddy was no master and I was no slave;
that he was only trying to bring about a fantasy for me--however
misguided it seemed to him; and that I understood he was doing these
things to please me--to please me.  The words resounded in my ear as I
released his balls and leaned away enough to look of the hair mountain
that was his body.
Filled with admiration and gratitude, the singular thought, the
overwhelming drive was to show him how much appreciation I felt at the
realization, and I said as much,
My eyes wide, the perspiration glistening my forehead, I had to tell
him.  "Let me show you my appreciation, Big Daddy," I said with a bit
of lust fogging my voice.
          Cupping my head, he said, "Show me boy, show your Big Daddy."
I flicked my tongue over his bullish cock head and watched it horn even
higher.  Big Daddy moaned louder and breathed out a heady sigh.
 "Hmmmmm, that's my boy; show Big Daddy your appreciation."  Sensing
he no longer had to be master, his posture relaxed; his squared shoulders
eased; and softness came to his voice, one of a mentor, a protector, a
confidante--and yeah, even a father.  He threw his head back, rolled it
from side to side.
I traced my tongue along underside of his cock, on the highly sensitive
knot of flesh and veins.  After a while, I moved to his balls (Big Daddy
loves his balls sucked), and with alternate gentleness and pressure, I
sucked in his balls, flicked at them with my tongue, then traced his
shaft back to the head.  With his cock now into my mouth, I sucked with
pressure, before tracing the other side of his shaft back down to his
balls where, again, I sucked in one and then the other.  I did this
several times as I listened to Big Daddy, "Oh yeah, boy, you know how
suck Big Daddy's cock.  Keep it up, boy; keep it up."
          "Yes, Big Daddy," I said after a breath, only happy to obey.
I traced back to his cockhead and slowly polished it with my tongue,
flicking and kissing it with my tongue, rubbing over it, under it, and
slathering it with spit--all of these movements made Big Daddy shiver
.  Then I surprised him by taking his cock all the way into my throat,
holding and pulsating it there in the warm wet folds.  Absent of a gag
reflect, I massaged his cock with my throat muscles.  The sensation made
Big Daddy push his pelvis forward, first slowly, lovingly, then faster
with increasing tempo.  I held on for as long as I could but had to catch
my breath.  His cock was an enormous, curving spear of excitement.  "I
have to breath, Big Daddy; you're so big."
          "Yeah, boy, but you can take it?" His question was more a
dare than anything, so I took a deep breath and slid my mouth over his
glistening cockhead, deliciously inviting, it dark purple muzzle shining
in the half-light.  "Ooooooh, boy, suck that cocks.  Damn, that's
good."  As I pointed for Big Daddy to move to the bed, he grabbed my
head to release his cock but I shook my head no.  I wanted him to move
with me still on his cock.  The thought made me ooze more precum, and I
felt my balls crawl a little farther into me.
          Big Daddy moved slowly toward the bed, but the image of
crawling on my knees as he backed to the bed made his cock throb in my
mouth.  He stopped a moment and rotated his pelvis this way and that,
then pumped fucked my mouth as he watch his fat horn disappear up to the
balls and reappear just past the edge of his cock head.
I gently pressed a thumb against his hole and rubbed his taint while I
gave great attention to his cock and balls. His hands took my head and
slid it back and forth over his cock.  Big Daddy's shaft, held stiffer
by a studded cockring, began to turn a light shade of purple as it gorged
with blood.  Looking to the ceiling, he searched for a glimpse of Heaven;
then looking down, he smiled, licked his lips, and rolled his head from
side to side.
Seeing his excitement only encouraged me to take more of cock into my
mouth, and after a while, I managed to bury my face in his pubes.  He
held cock in my throat and massaged it as long as I could.  The feeling
drove Big Daddy wild.
He rubbed my head and encouraged, "You give your daddy such good head,
such really gooood head."  And when he gently he removed his cock, I
watch it flop against his belly.   "But you gotta take it easy on Big
Daddy, or I'll cum," he said and pulled me up to a loving kiss.
In the darkness we kissed and explored each other's bodies.  I lay my
head in the silky grayness of his chest hairy, held his massive torso
against me, and felt warm love radiate between us.  His heart beat, the
warmth of his chest and stomach, and smelled the mustiness of crevices
made me hold tightly to him.
I felt the flexing of his back muscles, grazed in the hairiness there,
and let my hands fall to his solid and hairy ass.  Big Daddy felt so good
against me.  His massively pink body against my mocha brown one.  Our
contrasts I have always held as a superb example of the yin- yang of
life.  And every time I looked at Big Daddy, I felt he loved me.
He rubbed his callous hands over my hairless skin, then pushed me to
arm's length to look at my thin body, to look into my large eyes, and to
see my cock flop against my stomach as his did. Running his hands down my
back, he stopped to cup my brown bottom.  Taking my cheeks in both his
hands, parting them with loving tenderness, he kneaded their roundness
and smoothness with enormous fingers.  And while slipping a thick finger
between my cheeks, he whispered, "You have such a lovely ass, boy; it's
such a sweet treasure.  You are my hot man-boy . . .
I love you, David.  Don't you know that?" I looked up to find tears in
his eyes, and at seeing them, tears flowed from my own as I said, "Yes,
Big Daddy, I finally know."
 He said the words, the words I had been waiting to hear, and that made
me hug him tighter, made he reach up his hairy back and pull as much of
him to me as I could.  "I love you too, Big Daddy.  Please remember
that."  Then we parted and moved away to get the things we would need
for making sweet, manly love.
          "I want you to let the covers down while I get out of this
stuff," he said.  I don't want anything between us, `cept maybe for my
cockring.  I need that to keep hard and give you a good ride, boy."
          "Okay, Big Daddy."  I almost sang the words gleefully.
          "Now get into Big Daddy's favorite position."
          I got on my back and placed my legs under my arms.  "Like
this, Big Daddy?"
"Yeah, that's the one, boy."  Big Daddy lay between my legs and I put
my arms about his neck and wrapped my legs around his waist.  He cupped
my face in his hands and gently kissed me.  Looking deeply into my eyes,
he searched for permission, or perhaps a truth. Whatever the reason, he
must have found it because he smiled and hugged me with the tightest, but
most passionate, hug I had ever experienced, followed by the deepest and
most sensual kiss he had ever given me.
          We entwined in the passion of our longing as Big Daddy
whispered aggressive proposals, mixed with gentle urgings, in my ear.  My
body tingled in his embraced as we rolled back and forth in a seemingly
endless twist of kisses, embraces, and caresses.
          "Raise you legs, boy, Big Daddy want to come in."
I put my legs back under my arms, but stopped suddenly, "What about a
con--"
.  I smiled comfort when I heard the familiar tear of the packet and
helped him roll the condom onto the hardest cock I had ever seen him
achieve.  The shaft had grown as dark as the head and steady flow of
precum had made its way down its length.  And just as I thought he would
roughly raise my hips and plunge in, he stretched out, belly down, held
my butt up, and took my balls into his mouth.  I gently stroked my cock
in satin pleasure.  A man of his size, his capable of his violence,
exhibited such tenderness, mixed with strength, and thoughtfulness mixed
with compassion.
He remembered I liked my balls sucked, too.  Oh God, did he remember.
"Oooo, Big Daddy, it feels so good."  Going from my cock to my balls,
he sucked gently with added pressure as he watched my responses.  I
arched my back and closed my eyes to see comets approach from the distant
darkness in my mind.
"I know, boy.  You thought I was just going to get my nut and leave you
to get your own, didn't you?"  He asked between sucks and slurps.
"Well, I'm not that ungrateful bastard you knew before.  Am I boy?"
"Oh, no . . . no, Big Daddy."  He sucked some more, then added,
"Don't cum, now, `cause if you do, I'll have to get a strap to
you."  Then a wide grin stretched his face and he went back to work.
 He flicked the hairs on my taint and blew kisses at my rosebud that
began to contract and expand.  I felt a slippery finger play with it as
Big Daddy traced the folds of delicate flesh, first clockwise, then
counterclockwise.  And as he slowly pushed his finger farther in, he just
as slowly retreated, causing me to lick my lips in ecstasy.
"I'm getting your butt ready for my big white cock, boy.  You like my
big white cock, don't you?"
"Yeah, I do, Big Daddy, I really do."
"Tell me you want this big white cock, tell me boy."
"I want your big white cock, Big Daddy; give it to me."
"Not yet boy, I have some more work to do on your sweet little ass."
 He played with my butt for what seems an eternity, making my cock jumped
and lurched with every pass of his finger.  I felt his thumbs play with
my butt, slightly stretching and massing it, and causing me to relax and
open with ease.  "You're getting' there, boy.  You're opening that
hole for Big Daddy."
Then I felt it:  His wet tongue.  It slathered my ass, flick back and
forth over the folds, and turn my tight hole into a blossoming flower.  I
murmured, then grasped and released the bed linen to handle the
excitement.  It felt wonderful, gentle, and caring.  He blew on my little
rose, spit coolly on it, and sent shiver over my body.
His efforts tingled, felt tender, and felt so soft that I had to ease my
impending orgasm.  His tongue came back to my balls and licked between
each one, on up to my cock, and then moved to the head, where he slurped
it into his mouth.
"Your other daddy didn't know the passion in you, boy.  I see you
haven't had this type of treatment before, boy."
"No, Big Daddy, not like this.  Not . . . like . . . this."
Big Daddy rose to reveal a rock hard and pulsing cock that jumped and
lurched just as mine did.  He moved to kneeling and raised my hips and
legs so his shoulders were behind my knees.  As he generously slicked his
cock, he said, "I think you're ready for Big Daddy, boy.  Are you
ready?  Do you want this fat cock in your tight little butt?  Tell Big
Daddy.  Tell me you want my fat cock."
"Yes, Big Daddy, I want your fat cock.  Put your big white cock in me.
Please.  I need it in my tight little butt.  Oh I want it so bad.  Oh,
please, I want it, Big Daddy."
I braced for a searing pain, but what came was a slow press against my
hole, then a retreat, and again a pressing--slowly, gently, and
expertly.  My hole yielded slowly but steadily.  Big Daddy took his time
guiding his big cock in me, and then slowly retreating until I could
handle him comfortably in my eager ass.  He stopped to make sure I had
adjusted, all the while looking at me passionately and lovingly.  "Is
this how it's suppose to feel, Big Daddy?" I asked dreamily, as if
floating in a warm pool, feeling the tuggings of his effort, the pressure
of his labor.  "I've never had it so slow and easy, so nice and sweet
before.  You make it so enjoyable."
"It's your fantasy come true, huh boy?  You needed to know that it can
feel good without hurting, that it doesn't have to be rough and
careless, and you needed to know how it feels with a caring daddy."
Looking into his eyes, "Thank you, Big Daddy," I said, seeing his love
for me.  You really know how to make me feel . . . I love you, so Big
Daddy.  I really do."
He slid in and out of me to the music of Robin Trower's In City Dreams,
a rhythm similar to the motion of a lumbering elephant, a slow hypnotic
rhythm, a lulling to soft joy. On filling me with all his hardness, he
began to rock us to and fro; he lifted me off the bed in one smooth
motion and rocked me, ever so slowly, in the cradle of his strong arms.
We sat swaying like that, he on his hunches, me with legs over his strong
arms, impaled on his bullish horn, moving to the music, swaying, gently
in the half-light.
He moved to edge of the bed and held me in his lap where I swam in his
handsome glances and where he gave me kisses and nuzzled my neck.
"I can feel you pulse inside of me, Big Daddy.  I can feel your heart
beat through your cock.  It feels so good.  Fill me up, Big Daddy.  Give
me all of your cock."
          "You got it all boy.  Does it feel good?  Tell Big Daddy it
feels good."
          "It really does; you're so deep in me, filling me up.  It
feels so good, it feels so right."
          Big Daddy's pace began to quicken; his breath came in short
burst; but I didn't feel pain as he pushed faster and deeper into me.
Lowering me back to the bed, he put my legs under my arms again (I truly
was heels over head).  I closed my eyes and could still see him pushing
in and out of me as I gave myself to him. "You're just a hot fuckin'
boy; you get Big Daddy so turned on."
          "Pound my ass, Big Daddy; take me any way you want; cum for
me, Big Daddy,"
          "Yeah, boy, encourage Big Daddy.  You know how to get me
harder, boy.  You know I like it when you talk to me."
          As I talked to him, Big Daddy's motion alternated among
different rhythms. Soon after, he grew faster, entering and withdrawing,
and moving my legs out wider to go deeper and to give me longing kisses.
I tingled all over and opened my ass even more.  He grabbed my shoulders
and pushed deeper, faster, and harder.   I loved it:  tender but
aggressive, loving but manly--fucking as only a big hairy daddy could.
          Big Daddy's passionate and loving expression had turned to a
mixture of pleasured pain and resisted vulnerability.  Then as his orgasm
quaked to cresting, he tried to edge away and tried to make me cum
first.  Putting me first, thinking of his boy--my man was a true daddy.
 "Cum with your Big Daddy, boy.  I'm close...I don't want to leave you
behind . . . cum with . . . me . . . Oh . . . God . . . I can't . . . I
can't . . .I'm cumming, boy...I'm cumming, goddamn it!"
Big Daddy released wave after wave of edge-inspired cum, filling the
condom in side me with incredible cum spurts.  And shortly after his
orgasm pushed him further and further into me, my punch of ecstasy hit.
Delicious, perfect, pleasure, a sweet hurt, and delicate anguish combined
into a sudden impact just above my cock that gathered from my balls, made
its way to my cock, and burst into my mind.
I bucked and wretched out my own load while Big Daddy continued to
shudder out his own.  Splatters of cum, all over my body, evidenced the
sudden volcanic [throes].  And as the last intense shudders passed (Big
Daddy called them "twitters"), we sank into a sticky embrace and into
glorious exhaustion.
.         For the first time in years, I felt a man had made love to me,
that he wanted me to reach bliss with him and that I had a daddy who
truly cared and loved me.  If this afterglow wasn't love, it was the
nearest thing to Perfect Knowledge I had experienced.
          Big Daddy rose to one elbow, looked at me with the strangest
expression, and then spoke affectionately, "I know what you thought when
we came here," he said as he ran a heavy hand over my belly, "but I
wanted to surprise you."
He told me that he had listened to my bad experiences with my last daddy
and wanted to show me that sex could involve perceived aggression, that
it could be strapped in leather and metal, and that it could be whipped
about and made messy; but even in all those shades, "sex without love
was meaningless recreation or was the act of lost and troubled souls
running from something."
He spoke those words solemnly, earnestly, and in them, I heard the
truth.  I understood that love was the tie in all things.  Most
importantly, I understood that even though I was in my twenties and Big
Daddy was in his fifties, it didn't matter.  Love transcended the
practical and silenced the judgmental.
Big Daddy moved closer, almost nose-to-nose with me, and further
explained, "You must know that I love you and you must know that I would
never hurt you, so you must decided whether you can trust me."  Then he
kissed me softly on the lips and lay beside me.
"I will learn to trust you, Big Daddy.  I guess it will take time to get
that other guy out of my head."  Big Daddy said nothing and continued to
rub my belly as we lay in silence and in love.
We kissed and held each other some more, and I listened to his heartbeat
as he dozed.  Lying there, I remembered asking God for a passionate and
considerate daddy--now I know he heard me.