Here’s more of the third Detective Daddy story.

In case you missed it:

• Part 1

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Part Two of Five

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Case File 003: The Yellow Rose of Texas

9/28/14

When I’m interested in someone online, it’s easy for me to just come out and say what I want. But in person it’s harder. I agonized for days about how to broach the subject with Joe, until finally I decided that it wouldn’t be worth it. I hated myself for that: for my insecurity, for my shyness, for not going after something I thought I wanted.

I did want him: he was clever and funny, and he was nice to look at. He also seemed submissive — I could tell — and that meant he wasn’t going to reach out to me first.

I had a draft in my e-mail, waiting to send. I’d written it a week ago, sitting on it, waiting to talk to Tara first. But ever since she’d told me to go for it, I’d been less and less [willing] to send it. I mean, what if he said no? Even at my age I was still terrified of being rejected — it’s why I sent out so few feelers when I wanted to play with other people, waiting instead for them to come to me. Of course, that’s not how it really works, but what was I to do?

Apparently the answer was: just wait. Because while Tara was out at a girls’ day, I got a text from Joe.

Hey, sorry to ask you this, but I’m in your area and picking up some furniture from a garage sale. I can pay you in pizza.

I didn’t have anything else to do. Sure. I sent him my address. 

Be there in 10. Thanks, man.

No problem.

Then I texted Tara, and she sent back a row of various smiley-face emojis.

You’re cute.

I know, Daddy. Have fun! I love you.

I love you, sweetheart.

I spent the next fourteen minutes — he was late, which made me that much more nervous — pacing around my living room, wondering if I was wearing the right shirt to hide my extra weight, wondering if he even was interested in me, wondering if this whole thing was a horrible idea.

Then I heard a truck pull up outside.

I’m here.

Showtime.

*

Joe had a townhouse about half an hour away, an end unit that he’d just bought and was furnishing after living in a one-bedroom apartment for years. “Honestly,” he said, “I wanted to get a dog, and big dogs don’t do well in small apartments.”

“I know what you mean.” We were standing on the back deck, and a breeze was helping cool us off. He had the truck until six; it was only three now. He had iced tea, and I had a glass of water, and I was trying not to drink it all in one go because then he’d go back inside. “What kind of dog?”

“Dunno.” Joe was maybe thirty; he still had that slangy way of swallowing parts of his words that I’d given up years ago. “I just don’t want a little dog. My parents had little dogs, and I was always afraid I’d step on them.”

I grinned. “My ex’s next-door neighbor had five. It was like a chorus of yips and yaps every time someone drove down the street.”

“That sounds awful.”

“It was.”

His eyes flicked to my left hand. My wedding band was plain gold, heavy enough that I didn’t forget it was there. It was the one thing I’d insisted on when Tara and I had gotten married: I wanted to be constantly reminded of the commitment we’d made to each other. Her eyes had filled with happy tears when I’d said that, but I hadn’t been saying it just because it would make her happy. I actually meant it. “You’re married again?”

I nodded. “Nine years this November.”

I saw disappointment cloud his face and I kicked myself. Mentally, not physically. “Rob and I were together, sort of, for about a year.” Rob was his late partner. “He was dating me, and also someone else. I loved him enough that I made myself be okay with it, but it was hard. I swore I wouldn’t do that again.”

Now I could tell by the look in his dark eyes that he’d seen my expression flicker. It was as if there’d been a chance that Joe might be okay with sleeping with a married guy, but then he’d dashed those hopes. “It’s…” I faltered, but tried again. “Poly isn’t for everyone.” Inspiration struck. “Tara — my wife — she had a girlfriend for several years. Our marriage came first, but she and Lenore had a different kind of relationship. It was like best friends who sometimes had sex.”

“Really? And you were okay with that?”

I shrugged and sipped my water. “She wasn’t cheating on me. Lenore was okay with our situation.” I wanted to add that on occasion the three of us had spent nights together, but there was only so much of Tara’s privacy that I was willing to abrogate in pursuit of Joe. “They’re not together anymore, but we’re all still friends.”

Joe seemed to not know what to say to that. He set his tea on the railing and put his hands in his pockets. He was wearing old cargo shorts, and I couldn’t help but notice that there was a particular fold on one side. He dressed to the left. “It was hard,” he said again, looking down. “I don’t think I ever fully had Rob’s heart. I know he liked me, even loved me, but Rose was his primary objective.”

I wanted to say that Rob should’ve been honest, but then I might be speaking ill of the dead, and no matter how long it had been, Joe still had feelings for the guy. Instead I said: “anyone who Tara or I are interested in, they know up front about our situation. We’re married, we have college-age children, and we each come first for each other. And we tell each other everything.”

He looked up. He must have caught the stress I put on the last word. And he was, after all, pretty intelligent. “So she knows?”

“That I’m here?”

He took a step closer. “That you’re trying to gauge if I like you.”

My face flushed; hopefully he would think it was the sun.

Another step. “I do. Like you, I mean.” His lips quirked; he had a nice smile — a gentle smile. “Even though you’re older than most of the men I’m interested in.”

I felt my brow furrow. “You planned this?”

He was close enough to touch now. “You were practically putting out smoke signals whenever we were in the same room. I was worried that you might be looking for something on the side.”

“Well, I mean–“

“You know what I mean. That you were cheating on your wife. But you’re not cheating, are you?”

I shook my head. “She knows I’m here. She’s okay with me being with you. I told her about you.” My mouth was suddenly dry, but it would’ve been weird to drink, so I didn’t. I swallowed and reached out, putting my hands on his shoulders. “I have to be honest: I’m not sure I’m looking for a relationship. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Joe put his hand on my hip. “I appreciate your honesty.”

And then he kissed me.

*

Kissing men isn’t the same as kissing women. I’ve done it a few times, and it’s not my favorite, mostly because, no matter how submissive the other man is, there’s a battle for control.

And it’s a battle I’m always going to win. I ran one hand up the back of Joe’s neck, into his hair — which was still a little damp from all the sweating we’d done — and twisted my fingers in it. His breathing changed and I pulled away. Up close, his dark-brown eyes had little flecks of gold in them. He was a little taller than me, maybe half an inch, but I was bigger and, as the furniture moving had demonstrated, stronger. “Inside,” I said.

He nodded and, when I let go, went back into the house. I followed, closing the French doors. When I turned around, he came at me, to kiss me again, but I caught him with a hand on his chest. “That’s not how this works.”

There was confusion on his face, and the slightest hint of worry, and the dominant part of me liked that. A lot. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” I said, reaching down to find his cock through his shorts, “you don’t get to be in charge.”

There was a throb against my hand as he nodded. It was a big throb; Joe’s cock was not in any way small. My stomach twisted ever so slightly; even though I was a grown-up and knew that all humans were made differently, there was still the underlying fear that someone wouldn’t be satisfied with my body. Or, just because Tara liked it, that didn’t mean everyone else would.

I knew without looking that Joe would be bigger than me. Jesse was too, but only by a little. Joe… Joe was not a little.

“You,” I said, cupping his cheek with my free hand, “are going to tell me your STI status before we go any farther.”

He shook his head quickly. “Nothing. I… I went to the doctor. A couple months ago.” I could almost hear his heart pounding. “Y-you?”

“Nothing. Tara and I are both negative.” It was a battle to keep the quiver out of my voice. I was excited, but I had to be cool. “Stay here.”

“Stay… stay here? Why?”

But I was already lowering myself to one knee, and then to both. Joe made a sound deep in his throat as I unbuttoned his shorts, and then unzipped them.

I was right. He was huge. He had a slightly-below-average build, not really very muscular, but his cock had to be about eight inches long. All men measure, and I knew how big mine was, but I was thick enough that if I wasn’t careful with Tara I would hurt her. Joe was as thick, but longer than me. He was hard, but his cock was so heavy that it didn’t stick out like mine did.

So I helped, one hand on his right thigh, the other around the shaft. It was unbelievably hot in my hand, and seemed to beat in time with his heart. He was circumcised, which I preferred, and his hair was trimmed. Not that I would ever be able to get him all the way down, but I just thought it was nicer to look at.

I let my hand slide down his shaft and over his balls, which fit nicely in my hand. I gave them the barest squeeze and he moaned — and not unhappily.

That was good.

I looked up at him. He looked down at me. His mouth was open slightly.

“You can touch,” I told him, “but I’m in control. The moment I’m not, I stop.”

He nodded.

I took off my glasses and put them in my pocket — I wasn’t going to need them for a while — and wrapped my hand around the base of his cock. Then, eyes closed, I took the head between my lips.

Joe let out a deep, guttural sigh.

I spent a couple of seconds getting used to the taste of him. Some sweat, the barest hint of whatever soap he used, and now that I was close enough that same feral scent that all men seemed to have. I was thankful that he smelled decent — not good, per se, as we’d been moving furniture for three hours, but not bad. I’d known both men and women whose scent had been off-putting.

Joe was not off-putting.

Not at all.

*

So. First things first. I had to know how far I could go. Slowly, carefully, I took more of him into my mouth, my lips pressed to his shaft, trying to keep my breathing even, trying not to react to the fact that I was actually doing this, that I’d somehow found a man who wanted me and who I wanted back. I went as far as I could, mouthing his shaft to take every last bit I could, until I felt my lip brush my hand where it was [wrapped around] him. He pulsed in my mouth, almost hitting my throat, and I pulled back a little so he wouldn’t choke me. I didn’t much care for having my gag reflex triggered.

His slender fingers found my hair and I smiled around his cock. I liked being touched.

All the “how-to” guides say to do what you like, but I didn’t really know how it all worked for other people. I only knew how it worked for me. I pulled back until only the head was in my mouth, and then sucked at him as I lowered myself toward my hand. I had to consciously make sure my lips stayed wet as I pursed them around him, working his cock in and out. I found that he particularly enjoyed it when I held him halfway in and then ran my tongue along the ridge behind the head; he groaned and his cock throbbed.

I hummed my approval and attacked that spot, going from the tip of my tongue to the flat of it and back again. I knew he was happy — he was making inarticulate noises, and I took an immense pride in that I made it so he couldn’t form words.

The problem was that, with a cock as big as Joe’s, even the slightest movement can make things different. His hips jerked and he passed my gag reflex. My eyes watered and I pulled back and away, coughing.

“Shit! Shit, I’m sorry!”

I shook my head. “It’s okay.” I stroked the full length of his cock now. “First time and all.”

“Your… your first… I mean, I’m–“

“No, you’re not. Just, our first time.” I adjusted the position of my hand on his cock so that, even if he pushed forward, he wouldn’t choke me, and then took him back into my mouth.

Controlling him like this allowed me to go faster, to use my tongue more firmly, and I knew what that would do because I knew what it did to me. Soon, I felt Joe’s cock pulsing and he tried to pull away. That was sweet, but I didn’t want him to; I shook my head and said “mm-mm” against his cock.

That was all it took. He let out a tremendous groan and flooded my mouth with his come. I swallowed quickly as his cock pulsed and more came, and I had to hold it or else I’d choke myself. It tasted normal, I guess, not much different than any other man I’d gone down on, but I wasn’t really thinking about it. I was mostly concentrating on trying to work the head of his cock with my tongue while also trying to ignore just how hard I was and how hopeful I was that Joe would want to do this to me — or, better, to let me fuck him.

I swallowed again and pulled away from his cock, still holding it, and got to my feet. Even without my glasses I could see that his face was flushed, eyes wide. He was breathing hard. “Fuck,” he whispered. “You… I mean… fuck…”

I smiled and released his cock, and with the same hand cupped his cheek. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“En… enjoyed?” He laughed weakly. “It’s been… I mean…”

I nodded and pulled him into a hug. “It’s okay. I know what it’s like, the first time after a long time.”

He nodded, his face against my shoulder. His arms were tight around me. “I feel you,” he said.

“I imagine so.” The way our bodies were, I was sure he could tell I was hard. “Do you want to–“

“Yes.”

I chuckled; he’d cut me off, he was so eager.

Good.

# 

Sweetheart’s Diary, 9/28/14

I came four times while Daddy was telling me how he sucked Joe’s cock. We were in bed, and his fingers were on my pussy (and then inside of me, pressing against my g-spot in that way he did to make me rise up off the bed), and it was so hot to think of Daddy with a cock that big in his mouth. I’d always liked watching him go down on Jesse, and the other three men Daddy had been with since we’d been together. 

Daddy kissed me, stilling his fingers so I could concentrate on that. “You liked hearing that, sweetheart?”

I nodded. It was hard to focus on him; there were still little sparkles going off in my vision. “I love you, Daddy. I love your stories.”

“I love you.” He kissed me again. He had my right leg between his, and his cock was maybe half-hard. “The story’s not done.”

My eyes widened. “Did he?”

“He did.” And then Daddy slid two fingers into me and I came so hard I nearly blacked out.

*

Daddy told me all about how he’d sat down on the couch and Joe had deep-throated him. I was a little envious that he could (I couldn’t get Daddy all the way down unless he was fucking my mouth) but imagining it had been good enough. And then Daddy and I had made love, slowly at first, but we’d ended with him slamming his cock into me and me screaming as we both came.

I was almost completely wiped out as we snuggled, his head on my chest, my arms around him. He had one arm across my waist, his fingers firm on my hip; his other arm was trapped between us. “Are you going to see him again?”

Daddy nodded. “I want to. He said Rob, his last partner, couldn’t take him all the way when they had sex. But I know I can.”

“I don’t know, Daddy, you said he was bigger than you.”

“He is. But he’s only a little bigger than that one toy we have, and I’ve taken all of that.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t totally comfortable with using our strap-on on Daddy, but I knew that sometimes, when he was home alone, he played with the toys that fit it. I didn’t like using toys bigger than him because I was afraid I’d hurt him, even though he’d told me plenty of times he was okay with it. “What about… you know…” I felt myself blush and my voice went soft and, to my surprise, little. “Watching?”

He took a deep, slow breath, and then kissed my chest. “I didn’t get a chance to ask. But he said that Rob was poly, so maybe he’ll be open to it.”

I kissed his hair and squeezed him. “I want to see you with him, Daddy. Can you ask him soon?”

“I’ll try, sweetheart. Okay?”

“Okay, Daddy.” I squirmed. “Daddy, I have to pee.”

He made an amused noise and pushed himself up so I could pull away. As I got up from the bed, he half-heartedly swatted my bottom. “Have fun.”

I didn’t dignify that with a response. I loved my Daddy, but his insistence that going to the bathroom can be “fun” was still weird to me.

***

You might vaguely recognize some characters so far from the novella Four Days, which is contained within my collection Butt Stuff. This was supposed to be a sort-of-sequel to that story. Just remember that it’s not canon in the SCU, so anything you read, while enjoyable, does not apply to it.

More tomorrow!