I have masturbated every day for the last four days because I have been so horny hoping to see you. Daddy, when can you come and fuck me in my ass?

This text message was a plea that was finally fulfilled the Thursday before my vacation began. He did come over, and he did fuck me in my ass, as well as my other holes. In fact, I don’t know if I have ever been turned out so well. 

But I’m not allowed to say anymore about that…

~

Friday night I found myself back at Black and Kinky, a play party I had not frequented in almost a year. 

Things fell apart between me and the Boys around the holidays, and they were the reason I even went to my first B&K. But the Boys do not hold dibs on an open event. And my friends wanted to go. 

Also, it is always a fun time. So few spaces are exclusively for us, and when given the opportunity to start my vacation with such fun, who am I to pass up on joy in my life.

I met up with my friend Key for dinner, and then we met Des and his partner before entering the festivities. I let them all know the drama I was accepting, but Key worded it most succinctly. 

“She’s fucked half the men up in here.” 

Not quite, just two. The third graciously bowed out, and I respected that.

When I saw the Boys, I said hi and gave hugs.

“Welcome back into the scene.”

“I didn’t leave the scene; I just wasn’t a part of your bubble.”

With their skewed perspective corrected, my friends and I went about our evening as my past faded into the background. Instead, a planted seed was set to flourish.

I met SP at a high tea event about nine months previously. We exchanged Instagrams and began to randomly DM one another, flirting and exchanging photos, but nothing had come of it. Nothing until this particular Friday night. 

SP is very popular. He fire tops and there was a line of people wanting to talk to him.

Recognizing the moment, I said “I’m not a groupie,” to Key. I refused to sit and wait to talk to SP. Instead, I said hi, and then went about the rest of my night.

Des had asked if I was interested in playing, and he had just bought a pretty little knife I wanted to feel against my skin. We negotiated hair pulling and a bit of pressure pain. It was a fun intense delightful little scene to enrich my evening.

After we finished, I sat to watch Des and his partner play. As they connected, Key asked about SP. 

“Are you going to go back to his table?” 

It was getting later in the evening, but the party had some time to go. 

“I’ll go later.” 

I pulled out my bootblack kit and began working on my boots. They had not had a good cleaning and conditioning session since last year. Ren Faire dirt still clung to their catwalks. 

“Okay, but just so that you know, he came over as you and Des were starting your scene.” 

Oh.

I looked over. SP’s line had dissipated. He rested on his massage table, fatigue visible from across the room. I put down my boots and walked over.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“How are you doing?” I asked.

“Tired. You?”

“I’m good. Had a good scene. Yeah, you had a whole line.”

“Every time.”

I felt awkward, trying to feel him out, but in the moment I was brave because I had nothing to lose. 

“So, what are your plans for the evening?” Did he hear the hope in my voice?

“What did you want to get into?”

“I want to fuck you.”

“Here or somewhere else?”

“Do they have rooms here?” I had never had sex at B&K before.

“Yeah, there are rooms. I don’t know if they are available though.”

“We can ask.”

“Sure. Also my partner, she likes to watch.”

“That’s fine.” 

There were precious few scenarios where I would turn down fucking this man. I had wanted him almost the instant I laid eyes on him. He was confident and gorgeous, basically my catnip. 

But there were no rooms available, so to my place we went. 

SP and his partner graciously stopped for gas on their way to my place, giving me five minutes to use the restroom and throw a few things away to make my place look marginally neater. 

I found a stool and set it in the bedroom for his partner just as he texted that they were in my lobby.

My nerves grew as I walked them to my apartment.

His partner needed to use the restroom, so SP and I had five minutes alone, the tension palpable between us. I fell into my nerd space, pointing out my refrigerator magnets, a plethora of musicals featured, when he kissed me. It was soft, but insistent. I wanted more, so much more.

In the bedroom, we were slow to start, both of us trying to feel out the other. We each took off our own clothes. He kissed my neck and sucked on my nipples. I rubbed his head and moaned. We got up on the bed. He started jerking himself. 

“You can help him,” said his partner. 

“I was waiting for permission,” I said sheepishly. 

My lips slipped down his cock.

He was thick, the kind of thick I wish for in a dick, the kind I say a silent pray to see when a new cock comes into my life. As soon as his cock was in my mouth, I knew it would feel extraordinary inside me.

And it did.

He slipped on a condom and slide into me. I felt so full, almost to bursting. A long FUUUCCCKKK slipped from lips; I was gone. 

“Oh, you like that?”

“Yes! Fuck yes!”

He hit every wall, slamming into me in slow beautifully tortuous strokes. I gripped my sheets and moaned, squeezing my muscles against his mass and savored every thrust. At first he had me on all fours and I was shy, sheepish to show my face to his partner. But I could not hide my mouth. 

“Oh god!” “Fuck yes!” “Shit!” “You feel so good!”

He turned me onto my back and sunk into me. Looking down on me, he gripped my hips and thrust harder. And harder. And harder. His pace quickened. My orgasms ripped through my body. I couldn’t hold back any longer. I bucked up, locked my ankles behind him, and met his power with my desire. Unable to hold back, he leaned down and let go, his hips pumping into me with the ferocity I pray for. As he grunted and groaned his orgasm, I rode my last climax.

“That was fun to watch.”

“I’m glad we put on a good show,” I joked. 

I was wonderfully sore as I thanked them for coming, and they left. 

~

It was very late, after 3am I believe, but I was on vacation, so after SP and his partner departed, I did something stupid: I drove an hour to go see BF.

BF gave me a code to his house to allow for easy entry, but I didn’t remember it at 4:30 in the morning. He came down, let me in, and we immediately went to bed. 

BF is currently broke, and therefore has no decent curtains to block the Sun, so I woke up grumpily at 7am because of the brightness. After grumbling, I rolled over and snoozed a bit more, burying my face in the sheets and pillows. 

Around 10am, when the heat from his un-airconditioned bedroom could not be ignored, I was again awake. 

BF and I have our pattern. As per usual, soothing physical touch led to fucking. This time he pulled out a vibrating dildo he had not used on me before. It was enough to make me squirt for the first time in years. I also had nipple clamps I bought from the market at B&K, but they were more pretty than practical. Still, I will not regret buying something related to strawberries, my favorite food. Plus, like I said, pretty.

Besides our amorous affections, we had other plans for the day. BF had tickets for us to go see Some Like It Hot at a local theatre. We swung by a nearby coffee shop first, got our food to go, and then went to see the show. 

Beyond our shared history, BF and I have many interests in common, including musicals. He is often my Broadway buddy. Local theatre is no different. The show was delightful, and we had a blast together.

Afterwards, we went back to his place, but there would be no round two. He had plans with a friend that evening, and I really needed to sleep. We departed with the promise of future hangouts to come. And I went home to nap on my couch.

~

Four. 

BD had only every slept with four people in his life, and that included me.

I invited BD over Saturday night into Sunday morning, as his schedule is what it is. 

As we attempted to have sex, we were not quite connecting though. My nipples were sensitive from play with the new nipple clamps. And, for some reason, we just were not on the same wavelength. So I suggested we sleep and try for early morning sex. 

But then BD started snoring. I politely asked him to sleep on the couch, which he graciously obliged, knowing his snores were similar to a sleeping next to a lawnmower.

He woke me up and we tried again, but again something was off. He was lingering for so long in one area. He wasn’t changing things up. He wasn’t reading my body language and I desperately wanted to scream BEIGE; I was so bored. 

I tried giving him head, which did perk him up somewhat. I scampered to grab a cloth for cleanup in anticipation of his grand ending. But in the twenty seconds it took me to get back, the progress I made was gone.

In a last ditch effort, I asked if I could ride my vibrator while hunching against him and his participation through sucking my nipples. He agreed, and so I was able to rub one out. But then he lingered so long on one nipple. And was so soft with his mouth. Frustration, thy name is BD. “Please switch nipples” I found myself needing to ask. I eventually came from mere brute force instead of pleasure derived from his part. 

So when I was done, I asked the question on my mind.

And I got the answer that shocked me.

BD and I had fuck two times previously, and it was good. Not great but good. So I don’t quite know why I hadn’t picked up on this before. But this instance was a disaster. 

So much so, I honestly don’t know if I will try again with him.

~

When I picture my father, he is wearing a black vest, black pants, white dress shirt, bolo tie, and his slick black hair, with shocks of white at the temples, pulled back into a ponytail.

When my father died, I didn’t ask for any objects or mementos. Truth is, I didn’t know what to ask for. My younger brother had lived with him and chose a particular ring he liked. But my interactions with our father were never intimate.

So, with the Cowboy Carter tour looming, I asked my brother, “Do you have any of Dad’s bolo ties?” He did, as well as belt buckles, the leather vest, a leather jacket and a pair of leather pants. Thus I found myself at my brother’s home on his lunch break picking up items from a suitcase that looked as old as me.

The vest was repaired with duct tap. One of buckles needs a piece glued back on. And neither the jacket nor the pants are my size. But when I lean my face in and inhale, I smell my father.

So now I own things that were his, and that makes me happy.

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