When I Learned to Call Him Daddy

I was up for a sexual adventure. In a few days I’d be heading out of state to care for a family member after surgery, but this weekend—I was ready to be taken care of. I considered myself to be versatile, but I was ready for no-strings-attached sex and wanted to bottom for a pro—someone well-endowed with stellar reviews. So, I logged onto an escort site and quickly recognized a handsome black top visiting town who used to live in my Seattle neighborhood. He was in his 30s, 5’ 9”, and weighed 180 pounds. His hungry eyes exuding energy and I glanced back and forth between his phone number and his full-frontal eleven hard inches.

I had been with black men before, even in Wyoming where I grew up. I had made friends with exchange students and international visitors in my nearly all-white high school—gravitating towards others who didn’t quite fit in. For me as a closeted kid, their differences felt safer somehow, but that didn’t mean that I understood. I cringe remembering the Halloween costume that I suggested for my first black boyfriend—him carrying a spear in a loincloth with me wearing a uniform and a pith helmet. He shot that idea down, rejecting any representation of colonization or slavery and telling me of the violent mutilation of black men’s genitalia by mobs of white men who crushed even the hint of black power or potency.

I had been with black men whose dicks were smaller than my six inches, but this black escort headlined his endowment. “Have you ever wanted to feel the true power of the Black Man inside?” he asked in his profile. “Are you ready to have all of your boundaries smashed?” My reaction was visceral; I had long felt safe with men of color, yet the promise of the power of this man’s big black dick made me queasy.

“Shit,” I said as I dialed his number. “Can my white ass handle this?”

He answered, and just his “Hello,” made me tingle.

“Hi, CutlerX, I’m Steve. I saw your profile,” I began, pausing to remain calm— “and… I think I’d really enjoy your power.”

“Alright now,” He chuckled.

I had put it all right out there upfront and added that I was white, in my forties, 5’ 9”, weighed 160 pounds, had short brown hair and eyes, an average dick, a bubble butt with a tan line, and I was available all day. He was intrigued and we scheduled for later that afternoon.

I was feeling excited and added, “Hey, Cutler, I think”—my voice cracked midsentence like a pubescent teenaged boy; I wasn’t used to being so open and vulnerable with a pro. “I think you’ll enjoy my passion.”

“You’re so sweet,” he said.   

Our schedule gave me plenty of time to get ready. I prepared for a deeper-than-usual experience and when clean and confident, I squeezed commando into my tight black jeans and put on a pink short-sleeved button-down shirt that revealed my hairy chest. It was a 40-minute bus ride to his hotel, and I texted when I was two blocks away.

He greeted me in the lobby with a disarming smile. Like his profile picture, his head was shaved, but he had grown a short-cropped beard. He was wearing a black sleeveless muscle t-shirt that framed his biceps. We were the same height, but he carried at least twenty more pounds of lean muscle. The swing in his gray baggy sweatpants told me that he was commando too. His masculinity and kindness were magnetic, and he seemed to know that I was impressed.

“Hey, Steve!” he said grabbing my hand and pulling me into a short hug appropriate for the lobby.

“The maid will be done with the room real soon,” he said pointing to the seating area.  

We sank into two overstuffed chairs that faced one another. Sometimes he leaned into the comfort with his legs spread wide—I glanced every time. Sometimes he rested with his hands behind his neck, revealing his worked-out shoulders, armpits, and confidence. There were lots of people around and I tried not to stare, but I was flustered and paused more than usual as I spoke. I regained fluency when he leaned forward onto his elbow and knee to listen, which put me at ease.

I had an admission. “Remember when you walked in the Pride Parade. Without a shirt—in an oversized cowboy hat? I’ve been your fan ever since.”

We both laughed.

 “Hey, she should be done,” he said tapping me on the knee. “Let’s head up.”

As I stepped into the elevator, he slipped behind me and leaned against the back wall. I stood facing the door. My bubble butt has been complimented before, but his nearly imperceptible “mmm” sent my heart racing and I wondered if he could hear it beating. The elevator opened, and he graciously thanked the maid who was waiting to ride down; he inserted his room key and pushed the door wide open for me. It clicked shut tight behind us.

His eyes were twinkling. “Glad you’re here, Steve,” he said. He stepped in close, ever so slowly pressing his lips against mine. As he enveloped my lips in his pillowy softness, he warmed the back of my neck with both hands. My lips parted for him as I relaxed into our long cuddle.

He unbuttoned my shirt and helped me out of it, then brushed my cheek with his finger before slowly lifting my tee-shirt over my upraised arms. He pulled his over his head and flung it aside. His abs were smooth but there was a sparse layer of short curly hair on his muscular chest. I explored his torso with my fingertips and observed the growing tent in his sweats that veered left and extended to his hip.

Holding me by my waist, he pulled me closer. He leisurely caressed my neck with kisses and tickled me with his well-cropped beard. His hands slipped down from my waist, and he gently cupped my cheeks in both hands, then squeezed.

“This will be good,” he said.  

I blushed, feeling the heat as blood rushed to my face, aware of his dick pressing against me below. His words, spoken as we throbbed, served as a jolting aphrodisiac that melted any inhibition. I tugged at his waistband and reached inside. He was so thick that I couldn’t close my fingers around him.

“Wow,” I said squeezing.

He pushed his sweats down and stepped back to kick them away. His erection sprang free, plopped against his abs, and was bouncing up and down before I took him in hand. He unbuckled my belt and as my jeans plopped onto the floor, he squeezed my lily-white cheeks and spread them wide. I gasped as the cool air rushed into my heat.

"Um-hum," he said smiling.  

Then in the yin and yang of his tenderness and dominance, he gently pushed me onto my knees to face his enormity. He was as long as my forearm and I stared dumbfounded. He grabbed his shiny ebony and slapped my face.  

 I blinked and looked up into his knowing eyes. “You’re huge.”

Breaking it down, he assigned me a task. “Nibble my foreskin,” he said.

I slowly slipped my tongue into the crevices of his uncut dick and swirled. His moaning encouraged me, and I covered him in wet kisses from the slit on his tip to his spiky-haired balls. He continued to grow and most of his head emerged from its sheath. I opened wide and willed my jaws to stretch to accommodate him. I tried to swallow and gagged, but I kept sucking and trying. I had stepped out of my jeans and was kneeling spread eagle at his feet; he squeezed a generous amount of lube into his hand and leaned over me to massage my crack. I continued to slobber on his dick as he spanked my exposed hole. He slowly inserted one finger and gently wiggled, then two. My lips were loose, and I was learning to calm myself to forestall gagging when he pressed into my tonsils. I murmured as his precum lubricated my throat and as he inserted yet another finger into my slippery hole.

Then he pulled out and lifted my wet chin to look me in the eyes. "Face down," he said pointing to the bed. I obeyed. He followed me onto the sheets and occupied the space between my legs facing my awakening butt. His warm full lips covered each cheek with butterfly kisses before attending to my hole. I arched my back for him, and he began to probe, and lick, and spit.

"You taste so good, Baby."

"Oh, yeah," I cried as he hummed inside.

I was tingling for sex, but he offered a prelude; he crawled onto my back and covered me like a comforter on a cold day. He rested his searing manhood against my now pliable hole, and in the muggy stillness, I registered its heaviness. He kissed my cheek and slipped an arm under my chest. Breathing softly, I was secure in his strong arms and I slowly fingered the tiny hairs on his forearm.

He knew the connection between my nipples and the muscles that kept my anus tight, and he gently brushed one with his fingertip. This triggered my sphincters to contract and squeeze his engorged head.

“Relax, Baby. Let me in.”

With impeccable timing he pushed as my sphincters tired and released; my dilating muscles were obeying him apart from my conscious control. He became the conductor of my amazing reflexes and master of my internal rhythms.

I sighed. He was working his magic and I couldn’t help but trust him.   

He nibbled my earlobe as I wiggled my ass for him. Then concurrently, he bit down and thrust.

“Oh, ow,” I whined as he popped inside. His movement was swift and the pain in my earlobe didn’t distract me from his invasion; my sphincters had stretched out wide as he penetrated, and they were still burning as he paused just inside my rectum.

“I’ll take care of you, Baby.”

He held me tight as I whimpered and kissed me as I calmed down, giving me time to come to terms with the fact that his presence demanded an expansion reception. He held me there, then slowly pushed again.

I moaned; the deepening fullness was pleasurable this time.

Tight places were opening. I was like a rosebud, and slowly each inner fold, like a petal, unfurled as he gently nudged forward. We were beginning to meld.

I could tell that he was deep when he gave me an order. “Push, Baby,” he whispered.

I obeyed and he smoothly claimed another inch.  

“Oh,” I cooed.

“Yes,” he hissed as I pushed again and he bore in deeper.

“That’s it, Baby, Uh-huh. You’ve got this.”

“Oh, God, you’re big,” I said panting in the fullness.

I pushed again, but this time he withdrew completely. The emptiness startled me.   

“Please,” I begged. “Fuck me.”

“Do you want poppers, Baby?” he asked knowing what was coming, wanting me to be relaxed and ready.

“No, I don’t like those. It’s just you and me, Cutler.”

“You gotta breathe,” he said as he penetrated deep in one long smooth motion. “Oh, yes, there you go.”

I pushed again to pull him in, but this time he didn’t budge; he lay still inside, deep, and motionless. This teasing was playful, and we chuckled, but he was denying me fullness. So, I exerted my own will. I squeezed him hard with every internal muscle that I could control and held him tight. I wouldn’t let go.  

“Oh, that’s it, Baby,” he moaned.

Not able to hold on forever, my exhausted muscles released him. As I let go, I began to pulse, and as I trembled in the pleasure, he pushed hard. It wasn’t painful, but the intensity was overwhelming. Heat from deep inside emanated all over as I spasmed inside.

“Oh, oh, oh,” I panted.

“Baby, you swallowed me whole. I’m all the way in!”

I felt so proud and basked in his fullness and praise with a full-bloom smile. He rewarded me with a kiss.

My internal tremors continued to massage his manhood. I pulsed around him, enfolding him from the base of his shaft that completely filled my rectum to his head that had breached my innermost rings of muscle and occupied my colon.

“You’re so good to me, Baby,” he crooned.

My bowels were his now. I had yielded them to him, and he kindly nourished me there with long slow deep strokes. His virility was mesmerizing, and I silently laid under his warmth feeling satiated and very much at home.

“Baby, are you alright? Talk to me.”

“Oh, yeah,” I sighed. “You’re so good, Cutler, so fucking good.”

He had been graciously gentle, but he had much to share and I was ready. He flipped me onto my back to mount me missionary. He inserted just his head and stared at me game face.

“You want this,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” I bellowed as he surged in and pounded.

“Breath,” he ordered in the onslaught. “Breathe, Baby.”

I sucked air deep into my gut, stab after stab.

“Oh, fuck,” I cried.

Then he paused and thrust with all his might. Muscle and bone prevented him from going deeper, but my body quaked upon impact.

“Ow!”

“Daddy’s Boy,” he said possessing my guts.

Then another power thrust. And again. I was screaming as he rearranged my guts.

He calmed me by feeding me his tongue and tugged at my lower lip with his teeth. He drilled me the whole time. My balls were flopping, and my dick dribbled out a spider web of precum.

“Oh, yeah, YES!” I cried. “Fuck.”

“You’re such a good boy.”

I squeezed him as hard I could again, even as he pummeled me. This time I felt my internal muscles tugging at him—a sensation that seemed to be an unusual reversal of my spasms that naturally pushed.  

He stopped still. “Oh, my God, Baby. You’re pulling me in.”

We both broke out laughing.

Then he sat up erect and serene like a Buddha. I was still on my back and his deep dick was my anchor. He lifted each leg high, caressed my ball sack, and lightly ran his fingers up my inner thigh to my toes. He plucked me like a sitar, and I purred in our interlude of bliss.

“Sweet Baby Boy,” he said addressing me. His face was serious, and I sensed there was more to learn. He pushed my knees together, bent them back towards my chin, and grasped them in his arms squeezing tight. “Fear and pleasure and pain, Baby”—he said holding me as he leaned forward over me until his chest rested on my upturned feet—"they all come together.”

My shoulders sank into the mattress bearing his full weight, and my impaled ass arched high—like the upraised stern of a sinking ship. But before diving out of control into the deep, he fucking plunged into me—growling the whole way.

I panted bravely as he had taught, but then with the slightest change of angle, he rammed me head-on.

“My prostrate,” I shrieked.

The milliseconds of insertion and withdrawal before and after the impact of each exploding thrust was no relief. After each previous advance, he had held back and waited for me to want it—he gave me the time to make it mine. But now as he pinned me down and dominated my bowels, he found the hard part of me inside that wouldn’t stretch. He battered me there with his fat fucking phallus.

I squirmed and attempted to push him away—an impossibility in this position. I grimaced, clenched my eyes tight, and turned my head away. But there was no escape.

He was not alarmed by my plight. He rammed me still; the urgency of this power fuck would not be interrupted. Aware of my pain and terror, he offered comfort but demanded perseverance. Loud and firm, like a father coaxing his skinned-knee son back onto the bicycle, he said, “Daddy’s here.”

I recognized the voice of the man who had promised to take care of me. I turned my head towards his voice and released my grip on the sheets.

“Daddy’s here,” he said as I opened my eyes. He was glowing in sweat and a bead dropped from his forehead and splashed onto me, mingling with my tears. His gaze penetrated my raw vulnerability. I didn’t turn away.

“Yes, yes, Daddy’s here, Baby,” he crooned. I had given up ass, and guts, and breath, but he summoned more. He was with me and like a father reigning in a distracted son, he had limited my options.

I surrendered, raising my hands, grasping his strong shoulders. Our eyes were locked as I expelled air from deep in my lungs and gulped fresh air. He scrutinized me and a corner of his mouth turned into a devilish grin; his dominion was nearly complete.

With arched eyebrows I stared wide-eyed into his overwhelming presence, alive in each powerful thrust.

“Pleasure,” he had said.

It happened.

A jolt of electricity shot up my spine. My eyes rolled back into my head and my eyelids fluttered. Every muscle in my pelvis began to pulsate and softly caress his convulsing manhood.

The tension rolled off my face.

Time stood still.

It was as if I saw him for the first time and all I could do was smile. His reassuring voice had calmed my fears and encouraged endurance.

He smiled big. “You’re amazing.”

Wave after wave of pleasure shot up my spine, splashing over us.

Breath emanating from the depths of my lungs passed over my moving tongue and through my lips and formed two syllables. “DAD-EE!” I cried.

He had awakened my yearning and pushed me through the fear and beyond the pain. He had coaxed me into receiving all that he could give and was with me in the writing and the tears. He comforted me as he dominated me, and he watched over me as I surrendered to his will and to my own reflexes.

“FUCK me.”

He was taking care of me. He was feeding my naked hunger, never denying me the nourishment of his masculine black power.

“Fuck me, DADDY.”

Now. Naked together. This. HIM.

“DADDY, FUCK ME.”

It was all joy now.

He laid back and pulled me into cowboy position.

“Ride me, Baby.”

Bobbing up and down I took him to the hilt, again and again, fast full long bouncing thrusts—always clutching his hallowed head and channeling this power generated within my inner sanctum.

Now, he began to shriek; it was high-pitched and desperate like an urgent prayer.

Back and forth I rode; I was insatiable now, incessant, awaiting his climax.

“Give it to me, Daddy!”

He roared and thrust up into me, and up again, and again.

He was spent, but I rode on until he slapped my ass hard and we stopped to catch our breath. He kissed me—as sweet and gentle as when he was wooing me before he had opened me up. Then he pulled out of my satiated looseness.

As we kissed goodbye, he asked, “Have you had a buttgasm before?”  

I didn’t understand and didn’t know what to say.

Hours later, I was still happily twitching as my organs returned to their normal shape, and his seed planted so deep, flowed out making me wet once more. I hadn’t experienced such post-fuck intensity and finally googled the word that CutlerX had taught me. In response to the true power of this black man inside me, I had experienced a hands-and-cum free anal orgasm. It came amid waves of joy, in the intensity of learning to call him Daddy.