Here’s the conclusion of the third Detective Daddy story.

In case you missed it:

• Part 1
• Part 2
• Part 3
• Part 4

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Part Five of Five

***

Case File 003: The Yellow Rose of Texas

10/5/14

I’d agonized all morning over whether I wanted to go see Joe or not, but Tara said I should. “At least tell him in person that you took care of Rose. And the truth about any relationship you guys will have. You owe that to yourself.”

Didn’t make it any easier to stand at his front door and ring the bell, though.

He answered and let me in without speaking. He had on a plain black t-shirt and another pair of cargo shorts, his feet bare and making quiet little sounds overshadowed by my sneakers as I followed him into the living room.

“Rose told me,” he said, perching on the arm of the couch, arms folded. “Thank you.”

“She needed help. I helped.” I didn’t know whether to sit down, to pace, or to lean on the wall, so I settled for just standing near the staircase. “I wish it hadn’t gotten in the way of us.”

“If there’s even going to be an us.”

My heart clenched tight and my stomach compressed into a ball of ice. “I can’t lie to you, Joe. It wouldn’t be fair. But I’m married to Tara, and I love her. I’m not going to leave her, not ever. Not even for someone I like as much as I like you.”

The conflict was clear on his face. I knew what he was feeling because I’d felt it myself, staring into the bathroom mirror this morning. He was silent now, as I had been, looking down at the floor. Finally he said: “I don’t know if I can do this again.”

I took a step forward, and then another, and the third brought me close enough to put my hand on his shoulder. “I like you,” I said again. “I think you’re a good person, and you’re smart, and I’m very attracted to you. If I was single, there’d be no question.”

“But you’re not.” He didn’t try to get me to stop touching him, but he didn’t look up, either. “I want to be with you, Will. I do.”

With my left hand I guided his chin so he had to look at me. His eyes glittered, and he swallowed hard. I could tell he was fighting back tears. It hurt to see that, to see what I was doing to him, and I felt an ache deep in my chest. “I won’t force you into something you don’t want,” I said. “If you can’t be in a relationship with someone who’s married, or with someone else, I’ll respect that. We can be friends, or we can stop talking, or whatever.”

He wrapped his hand around my left wrist. “I don’t want that,” he whispered. “I want to try. But I’m afraid to.”

I pulled him against me, hugging him close. “You don’t have to be afraid. Not of me.”

He nodded, but stiffly. His whole body was twanging with stress. “I don’t want to be afraid of you.”

I [pulled] back enough to see his face. Up close there were tiny flecks of gold in the depths of his dark eyes. “Then don’t.”

And I kissed him.

*

Joe’s bedroom was very tidy; nothing out of place. Of course, the two of us looked pretty disheveled — pushing him down onto the couch and kissing him had led to touching, and half our clothes left in the living room. I wanted so badly to go down on him when I had my hand in his shorts, stroking the thick shaft of his cock, but I wanted him inside me even more.

Joe’s eyes were on me as I undid my shorts and dropped them, along with my underwear. It took some ungainly hopping to get my socks off, but I got there eventually, standing naked in his room, the silver-gray carpet soft under my bare feet. It took everything I had not to make a joke about how I needed to lose weight.

But Joe was smiling, coming over to me. He ran his hands over my shoulders, my chest, and down my sides to rest on my hips. He was only in his boxers, his cock out through the fly, and I resisted the urge to look down, to compare us. As big as he was, it was likely he’d never been with anyone who wasn’t smaller than him, but my stupid male insecurities were rearing their ugly heads.

So I sidelined them. I reached between us, my cock in my right hand and Joe’s in my left. I clasped my hands, holding us together, feeling him throbbing against me just as I was pounding for him. His mouth was slightly open, and he was trying not to pant. “You’re not worried?” he asked.

“About… about what?” I loved the feeling of his cock pressed to mine. I had his on top now, the weight of it making my knees weak. I had to fight to stay standing. “About you?”

“About…” He clenched his PC muscles and his cock jumped in my hand. “That I’ll hurt you.”

“Promise you won’t.”

“But–“

I squeezed, hard enough for him to know I meant business. “I. Promise.”

There was more kissing after that, the two of us naked on his bed. He took my balls in his hand, his hand cupped loose, and I arched under him. “If you like that,” he said, his voice husky, “then you’ll love this.”

My eyes fluttered shut as his fingers went lower, one of them expertly finding my ass and pressing insistently at it. He was more confident than any man I’d been with, and I liked it. A lot. So much so that I bore down against his finger and, even though there was no lube, I felt the first bit of it inside of me.

Joe made a strange sound, half amusement and half incredulity, and he crooked his finger. My cock [jumped] with it. “I think you’re right,” he said. “I think I won’t hurt you.”

“Told…” I had to force the words out. “Told you so.”

Joe took his finger away and sat up. “You should turn over,” he said.

It wasn’t romantic, but I didn’t care. I wanted him so, so badly. I did as he said, and as he got off the bed I slid down so I was bent over it, legs apart, ass in the air.

There was the sliding sound of a drawer, and the click of a lubricant bottle being opened. His hand squelched and I imagined him coating his enormous cock. Then I didn’t have to imagine anything, because his slick finger was at my ass again, teasing its way around the rim before more of the lube dripped down onto it and he pushed it, in one slow, steady motion, to the hilt.

I could have come just from that. Joe’s finger was pressed up against my prostate and he knew what to do with it. My vision went blurry as he fucked me with just that, a precursor of what was sure to come. I wished I could have multiple orgasms, wished I could come from this and again later, but my body wasn’t wired that way and all I could do was clench tight to the bedspread and moan out my pleasure. I had no words for what he was doing, and this was only the beginning.

It was almost painful when he took his finger away, but he soothed me with more lube before I felt something much, much bigger press against my ass.

He didn’t ask if I was ready. I appreciated that. He just pushed, the broad head of his cock trying to get inside of me. He was gentle at first, but when he realized it wasn’t going in he became more insistent.

And then he paused.

“Will, are you sure? I’m going to have to…”

But he must have seen me nodding because all of a sudden the head was in and I was so full that I didn’t know what to do with myself. My moans went abruptly silent; I tried to make noises, but nothing came out. It was the fullest I’d ever been from anything other than a toy; I’d had sex with other men, but Joe was just so big that his cock crowded out everything except the need for more.

I made myself nod — I couldn’t do anything else — and then shoved my face into the bedspread as Joe moved forward, inch by inch filling my ass with the huge thickness of his cock. Each time he seemed to stop, I nodded again, and he kept going until he was past the deepest anyone had ever been.

And then, almost cruelly, he buried the last inch or two inside of me, his hips against my backside, and I was able to cry out. I wanted it to sound like “yes”, but it was just a bark of noise. Still, it must have been affirmative enough, because Joe began to move back and forth, just an inch at a time. I was unbelievably stretched, my whole lower body heavy and hot, my heart in my throat. Each thrust, as small as it was, felt like he was rearranging things inside of me, and it felt amazing.

Joe must have been enjoying it too; his hands were on my hips, fingers tight like mine were when I fucked Tara. He made little sighs of pleasure each time he pushed in, and when he hit bottom I would grunt a small sound that seemed to make his cock pulse and throb.

I was begging my brain for words — I wanted to tell him to do more, to do it harder — but I couldn’t even think. My entire world was centered on Joe’s cock in my ass. Fortunately, he figured it out; he pulled out and then thrust forward hard. I heard a choked sob that must have been me; it had hurt, but so wonderfully, and he must have known because he kept doing it: he’d pull out slowly, then thrust in as hard as he could.

On one of those thrusts, he came all the way out.

“Shit!” he whispered. “Fuck, I’m sorry, let me–“

“Wait.”

“Okay, okay, what is it? What’s wrong?”

I didn’t answer. It was taking everything I had to turn onto my back. I managed to get one leg up halfway, and then he got the hint. Soon enough my legs were up on his shoulders and his cock was inside me again — only this time the head pounded my prostate every time he thrust, and my cock was on fire. “Touch me,” I moaned. “Touch my cock, please!”

He’d been holding my legs up with his arms, but I reached down behind my knees so he didn’t have to. It messed with his rhythm a little, but he did what I said: his hand wrapped around my cock and he started to stroke it. As he thrust in, his hand came down; as he pulled back, it came up.

It was the most amazing thing I’d ever felt with a man, and I never wanted it to end. Joe’s cock filled me up to bursting, and he was stroking me, and both of us were moaning, and–

Joe’s cock suddenly jerked and I felt him coming hard in my ass. I shuddered at the scalding heat of it as he thrust one more time, the final spurts hitting places I didn’t know I had.

He lost control then, falling on top of me. I let go of my legs so I could wrap them around him and hold his head against my chest as he gasped for breath. “Fuck,” he whispered. “Fucking fuck!”

I nodded. “You’re fucking… amazing…” It was still a fight to talk; he was big even as his erection began to subside, and I clenched my ass around him, trying not to let him go. That made him shudder, and I smiled. “Fucking huge… so good…”

“I can feel you,” he murmured. “Throbbing.”

“Yeah.”

“Lemme…”

“Huh?”

It was too late to ask anything else; in one long motion I was empty. He’d moved so fast, and I was so high on arousal, that the usual distaste I had for that feeling had passed.

All too soon he’d slid down to kneel on the floor between my legs. He replaced his cock with two fingers, curling up to press hard on my prostate, and with his other hand guided my cock into his mouth.

My brain overloaded at that point, and every bit of my perception shrank down to a tiny point. That point exploded, and my cock exploded into Joe’s mouth, and when I was done I felt like a rag-doll. A rag-doll that had had the best ass-fucking ever, but a rag-doll nonetheless.

It was wonderful.

*

I heard noise in the bathroom, and then Joe came back. I hadn’t even realized he was gone. When he climbed onto the bed, I smelled soap; he must have washed up. 

I managed to turn a little and flop halfway over onto him. My eyes were undoubtedly glassy; he was blurry when I looked at him. But I still found a way to move up and kiss him.

“You’re amazing,” I said against his mouth. “Just… fuck…”

I felt his lips move in a smile. “So are you.”

I shrugged the tiniest bit. “I just had to lay there.”

“Lie there.”

I shook my head, kissed him again, and then [flopped] back onto the bed. He was on my left; I tried to find his hip or his side, to touch him, but I must have missed because I found his cock. It wasn’t hard, but it was still pretty big under my fingers. “Never thought I’d be a size queen,” I said, “but I think I’m a size queen.”

He laughed, low and deep: the laugh of a man who’d just fucked someone. I knew that laugh too; I’d laughed it myself. “You’re way too masculine to be a queen.”

“Fair enough.” I stared up at the ceiling. The white blades of the fan cut slowly through the air. “Can we do this again?”

“What, right now?”

I chuckled and [squeezed] his cock gently. “Not right now. I don’t think I can walk.”

He got up on one elbow and looked down at me. “Are you okay?”

I nodded. “Absolutely.” My other hand came up to his neck and I pulled him down for another kiss. After, I said: “I’m fucking great.”

“I just mean–“

“I know what you mean. Don’t worry about me, okay?”

“Okay.” He didn’t seem sure of himself in that moment, but I was sure. Sure that I was going to try and make this work, sure that I was going to get fucked by Joe again, sure that he was willing to try.

It’s amazing what a good fuck can do.

#

Sweetheart’s Diary, 10/5/14

Since Daddy had gone out to do stuff with Joe, I decided it would be a good time to go see Gone Girl. Daddy had said he wasn’t terribly interested in the movie, and I was curious how it would stand up to the novel.

I enjoyed it, for what it’s worth.

When I got home, I found Daddy in the bathtub. That in and of itself was weird because Daddy had always said he didn’t care for baths unless I was in there with him, but there he was. His eyes were closed, and he had a rolled-up towel behind his head. Two bottles of cider sat on the floor beside the tub, one empty and one half-full.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he said as I sat on the edge of the tub. His voice was faraway.

“Hi, Daddy.” I put my hand over his; his arm was on the edge, so it was easy. “Are you okay?”

He nodded, and it was more exaggerated than I’d ever seen. “Very okay. But sore.”

“So he…”

“He did. We did.” I was pretty sure he didn’t know he was smiling. “It was fucking amazing.”

“Good.” I took his hand in both of mine. “I’m glad you guys were able to.”

Another nod. “He said he wants to try. That still okay with you?”

“Of course it is.” Another spark, but again I ignored it. I wasn’t jealous of Joe, except inasmuch as Joe could fuck Daddy’s ass without a strap-on. Daddy loved that, and I loved him, and I was happy to hear when he could do the things he wanted to do. “Did you talk about specifics?”

“Huh-uh. Too wrecked.”

“Well, from what you told me, I’m not surprised.”

His smile widened. “Baby, he’s so big… it’s unreal.” His right hand moved down his body to take hold of his cock, which was half-hard beneath the surface of the water. He began to stroke himself, seemingly without realizing what he was doing. “It hurt to walk, like he’d jumbled up my insides just by fucking me.”

“So, how I feel every time we do?”

He chuckled. “Touche.” But then that little serious line showed up between his eyebrows. “Is it okay? When I do that?”

“Always, Daddy. If it wasn’t, I’d have said. When you hurt me there it’s the good kind. Every time.”

The line faded. I let go of his hand and it slid down beneath the surface of the water. Now he was touching himself and cupping his balls at the same time. He let out a soft grunt and his eyes fluttered open. “You’re watching me, sweetheart.”

My turn to nod. “I like to watch you. You know that.”

His smile turned from [lassitude-inous] to lascivious. “Can you help Daddy, sweetheart?”

I took off my shirt, and then reached back to undo my bra. Then, kneeling beside the tub, my breasts cushioned on my right arm, I [reached] into the water and replaced Daddy’s hand on his shaft with my own. He was unbelievably hard (he was always unbelievably hard), and as I started to slide my hand along his flesh, his eyes closed again.

“I love you, sweetheart. Full stop. Forever.”

I tightened my grip. He moaned.

“I love you, Daddy. Forever.”

And then there was no more talking.

***

And there you have it: the third Detective Daddy story. As you can probably see, this is more about getting Daddy in bed with Joe than anything else. In the fourth story, there probably would’ve been a MMF threesome, but I only got about five pages into it before I abandoned it.

Hopefully you’ve enjoyed the past two weeks. Hopefully so have I — you know what I’ve been going through, work-wise, for the past ten months. Maybe I’ll write something about the trip or share some pics; maybe I’ll have a few guest posts next week. I don’t really know yet, because I’m preparing these two weeks of posts well in advance. So we’ll find out together.

Oh, and if you enjoyed the Detective Daddy stories, please leave comments or send messages to let me know. You know me; I’m always looking for feedback.

(One last reminder: the Joe in this story is not the same Joe from the SCU and Holiday Heat. For one thing, they’re very different heights; for another, the SCU Joe is not bisexual — as far as I know.)