Daddy: Nine Stories of First Time Gay Dominant Daddies

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I was twelve that first time, and a happy child, happier than any other child I knew. I doubt if any other child had so much love. I was my father’s lover and he was mine. Everything was perfect. Geralt takes a seat on the other side of the bed, “You’re not a burden.” He repeats, a bit more firmly this time. “I’ve missed… this,” he gestures between them, “all of this. I just… I’d thought that maybe you didn’t want this anymore. And I didn’t want to force something on you that you didn’t --,” Will update tags when necessary, none of the chapters are connected, they're separate stories with each character!) Language: English Words: 3,351 Chapters: 4/4 Comments: 18 Kudos: 528 Bookmarks: 29 Hits: 5,963 Jesus Christ!” Diego rubbed the side of his temples, talking to Klaus was even more exhausting than going on missions. “What I was trying to say,” He put as much emphasis on ‘trying’ as he possibly could, “Is that I also found a pacifier.” I had no warning, no premonition. The break up was like death. I had taken the week off from school just to be with the only man in my life, the best man I ever knew, or so I thought. I thought my birthday would have ended sensually, like all the others. It was usually the best birthday present he gives me, a passionate night of love making right out of a romance novel.

1420+ LGBTQ+ Short Stories to read - Reedsy

The man came for me twice, later. But he came as a father coming for his daughter. He should have come for me as a soul for its soul mate, like breath for air, like the dying for life. That was what we were; romance and its love. An anon on Tumblr requested this "Could you write a drabble with Little!Alex and Papa!Jefferson just something really cute?" So that is what I did and this is the result. Language: English Words: 400 Chapters: 1/1 Comments: 21 Kudos: 116 Bookmarks: 4 Hits: 2,719 There were some good things that occurred in my childhood. I started playing guitar at the age of 3. By 6, I was attending after-school music classes taught by three retired and old school teachers who had the most brilliant concept for teaching music. It was there, in that brownstone, where I learned to play piano and trumpet.I didn’t cry the second time either. I liked it. He was gentler. He told me it was our secret, our special thing, and no one should know about it. This many years have passed, since I lost my beloved father. And more recently the world lost him too. I just left his grave side. I have never been able to understand why I keep visiting his grave, despite the distance, despite all. And each time, I always leave with an exhausting longing, a fiery desire, and an intense craving. It wasn’t easy. It took a while before I could stand the touch of any other man, but vengeance helped me detach my body from myself. Foot worship Language: English Words: 29,784 Chapters: 31/31 Comments: 351 Kudos: 377 Bookmarks: 36 Hits: 11,675

dad and I post naked photos together on OnlyFans My dad and I post naked photos together on OnlyFans

The father and son appear to be shameless about their rather unorthodox bonding activity. Courtesy of @herberttjake

A father and son are making a fortune on OnlyFans sharing naked photos of themselves hanging out together. I had hoped he didn’t mean it, that this was just another punishment, but the way he said it convinced me it was final. I knew my father; I knew the look on his face. It was the same look he had when he shot Dragon our Alsatian. This was not like before when he would refuse to touch me because I misbehaved. My father had never hit me or scolded me; his punishments were usually more severe and silent. He would simply refuse to touch me for days on end. Such days were hell for me. I could barely survive without him. When he was pleased with me, he really would take his time and give me much pleasure that I never knew was possible. But this was no punishment. This was a cessation. This was my death. I tried to make him see reason, to convince him that we were to be forever. I told him of our joys, our laughs and how love couldn’t be any better. I begged him not to kill his beloved and only child. One of the men was the Headmaster of Horace Mann, my high school. His name was R. Inslee Clark. The other one was his lover, a history teacher and swim coach named Stanley Kops. I didn’t know this at the time. The year was 1975 and I was 14 years old. I was flattered to be included in such grown-up activity, and naïve to their motives. I accepted. Is this… A-Am I a burden to you, Geralt?” He blurts, his cornflower blue eyes focused intently on the floor.