She puts on her white socks, her shiny black 5” heels, and her Dorothy outfit with petticoats, and then tells me she is so sorry, that she forgot her panties.
Am I upset, or thankful.
I play being upset, and show her how upset her Daddy is at her, by making her sweet ass bright red with my hand.
I love Saturdays.
I have Daddy issues. All of a sudden. And I like them.
I always thought I wouldn’t be into anything sexual that involved a “Daddy” because, well…I still call(ed) my real-life father “Daddy.” I don’t anymore. I can’t.
I have a new Daddy. Whitman.
After our brief encounter with a young lady looking for a Daddy Dom, Whitman and I gradually came to realize that we found the idea very appealing. We also realized we didn’t need another girl to play that part. This idea has been on the back burner for a couple of 
months, but it’s been bubbling up and boiling over again suddenly. We’ve had an epiphany of sorts:
Whitman IS my Daddy. This is a totally new dynamic and it’s amazing. It’s sexy, it’s hot, it’s wonderfully fun, and a real turn-on; I’m wet and horny just writing about it. And get this…even though I normally can’t talk during sex, suddenly, if I’m talking to Daddy I can. I can answer any question, respond to any command, promise him anything.
Even if we’re not really engaging in sexy age-play, I love the feeling I get when Daddy calls me little girl, or babygirl, or of course, princess, in the bedroom or out. When I see Whitman after work, I want to hug him and kiss him and whisper in his ear, “Hi Daddy.” I want to call him Daddy all the time. Names like Sir or Master have always felt contrived and a little cheesy to me.
Calling Whitman Daddy seems like the most natural thing in the world. It’s perfect submission.
There have always been some child-like aspects to my personality anyway. For example, even though I’m smart and totally mature, I can be a little naïve, and I take great pleasure in happy things (flowers, kittens, sparkles, shiny iridescent sex toys). Suddenly, though, parts of me are becoming a little more child-like. I really want to wear not just pretty lingerie, but GIRLIE lingerie. Ruffly panties and sparkly costumes, even. I’ve ordered panties, petticoats, and ruffled socks.
I’m dying for this red riding hood dress to come back in stock.
I know this could be a sexual phase, and it may be something that comes in and out of play for us, but if nothing else, I think the names are here to stay.
We’ve had a lot going on over the past couple of weeks. Whitman and I are moving into a new place. We ran into a sexy new variation of Dom/sub. (New to our relationship, anyway.) All of this DaddyDom talk (and the two-hour show, of course) has me a little worked up. We’re nearly the same age, but I want to be Whitman’s little girl. At least some of the time. Like now.
As I was going to sleep last night, this fantasy flitted through my mind:
I saw myself wearing my blue ruffle-butt panties and matching blue bra. Whitman and I are hugging in the middle of the big empty living room, because we’re only halfway moved in. It has been a long day of working and cleaning, and this hug feels like dessert. My arms are around his waist, and my cheek is to his broad chest. “I like our new house, Daddy, thank you,” I murmur into his chest hair as he strokes my head and neck.
“You’re welcome, Little Girl.”
”But I might be scared to sleep by myself in this big house, Daddy.”
(This is totally a tease; I want to be taken to bed by him.)
“Don’t worry, Love, I’ll be with you, he says.”
Daddy takes me to bed and says he will rub my back until I go to sleep. He strokes my back, my neck, and my hair gently, but soon his hand starts to trail lower, grazing my ass lightly. Lower still on the next pass, his hand is moving gradually between my legs…I squirm a little and whimper.
There’s no innocence about me. I know what he’s doing and I like it as he climbs on top of me, his weight bearing down on my back, making it hard for me to take a full breath. I shiver in anticipation as his hand slides over my mouth. My pussy is drenched. He slowly slides his big hard cock into me and I whimper again. His warm breath is in my ear. He smells like brown liquor – like a man. He tells me softly in my ear not to be scared, that he will always take care of me.
So. They played.
It was fun. They played, I watched, I facilitated a little, just a touch or a helping hand here and there. It was amazing to see Whitman so turned on and feeling like a king. He was in charge of two hot ladies, and what man wouldn’t love THAT? I find Whitman to be the sexiest man alive normally, and that was just amplified in this case.
I’m OK with the sex, and the daddy/girl dynamic was truly very sexy. Actually I’m more than OK with the sex. I liked it. I liked seeing Whitman spanking her young pale ass. I liked hearing her whimper when he did. I loved seeing him fuck her like she’d never been fucked before. When she moved to put her feet on his shoulders as he fucked her, I warned her in a quietly sing-song voice, “It’s going to huuuurt…”
I don’t think she believed me.
Until it was over.
There’s no polyamory for me here, though. I’m not comfortable with them having a “side” relationship (any relationship…?). Nor has he indicated an interest in one, but there’s no real place for me in the sex that they have. She’s straight and just wants daddy. I’m mostly straight, and I don’t want a little girl, so from where I sit, this goes nowhere. Next??
I’m not sure how this will play out, but I’m a little exhausted by it already. I’m not too exhausted to have sex, though. Is it time to go home yet?
This is the start of a new chapter in the story of Whitman and Sex Fairy.
I have written before about my desire to be willing to share Whitman with other women. I KNOW he needs more sexually than any one person can ever give him. (Yes, even if that one person is ME, the Amazing Sex Fairy!!) He needs more, he needs different, he needs new. I often question (on this blog, in my mind, and out loud to anyone who will listen) whether monogamy is even a realistic concept.
I struggle.
We’ve recently encountered a young girl (okay, not a girl, but she is much younger than us) that Whitman would like to play with. It’s mutual. She wants to play with him. She wants a ‘Daddy,’ which was completely off my sex radar, but it now seems suddenly very, very hot, and totally fascinating. It makes perfect sense. Although we’ve never done any age play, Whitman is already very much a dominant in the “Daddy Dom” mold. It’s incredibly sexy. I want this experience for him. I want it for him very much.
The three of us are talking. It’s hugely erotic, and off-the-charts arousing. It’s all horny, all the time around here these days. We’re going to play together, but I have a vision (or is it just a wish?) in my heart and mind that I can let this blossom into a loving relationship for the two of them, or maybe the three of us. I’m not sure though. Do I really have it in me to be polyamorous?? Do I really want to? I am, after all, an only child and not used to sharing. Can I even open my heart up in this way? Would it be easier to let them have their own time together? Easier for me? Easier for them? My greatest fear in opening up to other people is that I will lose Whitman to someone he likes better…some as yet unknown phantom lover. (Of course this could happen whether I open up or not, right?) This gnawing fear makes it hard to open completely, as much as I want to. Perhaps I can open up, but can I let go?
The feeling of being excited for him as his brain is awash in the hormones of new attraction is amazing. I, too, am overcome by the excitement of novelty. By sharing our thoughts and experiences, it’s like something is being added to our relationship, rather than something being taken away. If either of us felt the need to hide our feelings and desires (and yes, fears), then it would seem like a takeaway. However, the reality is that he’s a little distracted by horniness and excitement right now, (who wouldn’t be?) and in THAT sense it feels like a little bit of our relationship has been taken away.
Opening up. Am I inviting more love, or inviting disaster?