Page 23 of More, Daddy
I hate having this kink. I hate how much I need it, how hot it gets my blood, how rock hard it turns my cock, how much I fucking come when I have a stellar roleplay scene. I would give my left nut to have something else. Piss kink. The desire to get on all fours and trail after a woman on my hands and knees. Be dominated. Spit on. Humiliated.
I’d take any of those, because for whatever reason, those things garner less skepticism and judgement.
WhenDaddysGirlreplies, her response is exactly what I needed. It’s everything, and a warbled little grunt slips past my lips as I blink at the screen, grateful for her maturity.
DaddysGirl
You thought if you became a father, then told her about your kink, that she’d conflate the two?
Suede0989
I was worried, yes.
Kinks, if you don’t have them, are often and easily misunderstood
DaddysGirl
I agree but
If you love someone, doesn’t that mean loving what gets them going, just to see the adoration and passion in their eyes when you share that thing together?
Sorry - not trying to hijack the conversation
So you wanted to tell her before you started trying for kids
I thought the same about my kink when I told my ex-wife. I mean, I didn’t expect her to embrace me with open arms right away. I knew it would take time. Or so I thought.
What I didn’t expect was betrayal and humiliation. Then again, no one gets married expectant of those things. Who would?
Suede0989
I’d waited so long to bring it up, but the longer I went without it, the more detached I had begun to feel. So I explained it to her - that I had a need I’d been suppressing, mostly out of fear, but that I needed to come clean about it now, before we grow our family
She agreed to look into it and read up on it online, to better understand it
DaddysGirl
I know that I found you through your checked interest, as we’ve already established
But for the sake of getting this memory of you and your ex-wife right, can you tell me how you explained it to her?
My throat, already dry, bobs as I attempt to force a swallow. The back of my neck is damp, and my stomach twists in on itself as I remember that night. Pris was at the bar, sitting on one of those ugly rattan barstools she insisted we register for. She had a glass of red wine in one hand, her phone in the other, the oven preheating in the background.
I told her I wanted to talk. I told her I felt bad for hiding this for so long. She grew concerned, and I saw worry in her eyes that I’d never seen before. And when I saw those thick etches of fear, those heavy blinks of concern, I felt relieved; relieved that what I was going to tell her was just a sexual kink that I’d been guarding. I got to knock the weight off of her shoulders that my big thing wasn’t bad—it wasn’t an affair, or insider trading, or something nefarious at all. I’d be able to laugh and say, it’s simply my sexual kink that I’d felt ashamed of but want to share with you now. And then she’d put her hand on her collarbone and exhale her concerns, and smile.
That’s what I thought would happen.
But that’s not what happened.
Suede0989
I explained that I enjoy a specific roleplay, one where I’m her daddy, and that’s she my babygirl, and in that, I’d take care of her in all ways, give her the best orgasms and affection, and in turn, she would make herself innocent and pliable for me, tap into vulnerability and out of decision making and let me just… dote on her. Please her. Obsess and worship over her. While both of us mutually acknowledge the sinful nature of fantasizing about that dynamic.
I told her that the feeling of it being taboo—pretending we’re daddy and babygirl—is what makes it so incredibly hot. But then the hot sex would tether us, to our marriage, our relationship. That, in total, it would be something she would enjoy if she gave it the chance.
I believed that at the time
Anyway, that’s how I described it
