by J. M. Dabney
I tossed my pencil aside and stood up from the stool. I walked to the wall of glass and the cityscape beyond. Loneliness was something I accepted as my due for a nice, comfortable life. I believed in freedom for all, and yet I couldn't let go of the expectations in which I was imprisoned.
I felt my cheeks flush as the needs I ignored came to the forefront. I wanted to be taken care of by a man who knew who he was. Someone dominant and strong. I wanted to be loved and fucked with equal measure. To have the weight of decisions taken from my shoulders. At the possibility of having that man who could ground me and push me, I felt tears burn my eyes. It would probably be more than I could accept.
Being a submissive was right there, I'd silently accepted it, but without a Dominant, over time, I became lost. The older I became, the easier it was to ignore that part of me. I was content when I belonged to someone, or so I thought. Lawrence hadn't had that possessive nature that urged him to stake his claim—let everyone know that I belonged to him.
I shoved my hands into my pockets and leaned my forehead on the cool glass as I was staring down in the brightly lit street below. All the issues I'd tried to push aside since Lawrence had served me with the papers started to spin through my mind.
When I learned that I'd become nothing more than a body to use—a tool for masturbation. When Lawrence had fucked me, his eyes were closed, and I knew deep in my soul that I wasn't the one he was seeing. The only time I felt any satisfaction was when I got myself off. I could imagine anyone and anything. My fantasy man calling me boy in my ear. I could give myself that bite of pain I needed, but it was still not enough.
Nothing was ever enough. Everything in my life had dimmed as the shine wore off. I was older and my body not as slim as it used to be. The threads of silver in my hair and the deepening creases beside my eyes showed me that my days of being someone's boy was long behind me.
I still didn't know how I was going to be a single, middle-aged man. I could date. Find myself someone new who might appreciate me, but I was too jaded and tired. I was no longer happy with life or my job. I'd always seen myself as a happy person. Except now I no longer felt like the man I used to be.
All I could think about were the what-ifs in life. What would have happened if I'd voiced that I was submissive? Would I have ended my fated-to-fail marriage before my husband had the chance? I'd seen it coming, but I'd thought if I just didn't let it solidify than I would be okay. I wouldn't be tortured by the memories of the subtle cruelty of the man I'd once loved.
I was so tired of being alone and unloved. I was starved for touch and desired to be possessed and allowed to give up control. Rationally I understood that people found love at my age and beyond, but those forbidden longings to be someone's boy—to call someone Daddy as they pushed me to the limits of what I felt I could handle seemed so out of reach.
My phone chimed and tore me from the plummeting landscape of my thoughts. I pulled my phone from my pocket and answered.
"Hello."
"Hi, Devon, tell me about your day."
I shivered at the obvious command in Bern's voice. I craved a man just like that. Maybe that's why I was losing my mind, an example of the type I wanted was right there to tease me with the impossibility. I did as he asked. Poured out each detail of my day as he responded and chuckled. Allowed me to experience what it was like to be important. I bitched about my newest project, and he validated my frustrations. It was novel and sweet, almost as if I no longer felt the weight of my existence suffocating me.
I focused on him while he talked as I paced the office. Just listening to him brought me peace and calm, something I'd so lacked. All I could do was hoard these moments. Savor and remember it to pull up later. Maybe I needed to really find myself. Go back to the times where I felt free and me, the young me who'd thought I'd had the world in the palm of my hand. I'd focused too much on what I'd lost with the divorce. Why not flip that and try to discover the things I'd learned or could learn.
Again, I relished the lightness as we talked and he growled when he told me I shouldn't still be in the office. Ordered me to go back to my room and he'd order me something special for dinner. It was so bittersweet, the calmness that I felt at having my decisions made for me, but it wouldn’t last, and I couldn’t let it happen. Sooner or later, my little flirt with my submissiveness would come back to haunt me when the gorgeous younger man found a man as perfect as him.
"I have to finish this project."
"No, what you need to do is listen to me and take care of yourself."
"You know I'm old enough to be your dad, right?"
"Doesn't mean I won't put you over my knee for disobedience, boy."
I felt my eyes bulge at his tone and couldn't think of a retort. I was standing frozen like an idiot in the middle of the room completely speechless. And I was embarrassingly turned on by it. I needed to end the call. He was twenty-eight and my best friend's son. I couldn't ruin the one friendship I had left.
"I should go."
"You should pack up your work. When will you be in your room so I can—"
I zoned out as every part of me argued, my body wondering how grown up he was and my brain berating me for the image that formed. I gave him a time and quickly made my goodbye. My face flamed, but even as I said I wasn't going to do as he ordered, I packed up my bag and left the office. Maybe I was losing my mind, that was the only excuse I had.
4
Bern
I poured Dad a cup of coffee as he settled at the kitchen table to have breakfast. He'd done nothing but fuss at me since I got home about the fact that I wouldn't let him take care of me. He hadn't just been my dad growing up but also my best friend. When it was just the two of us for so long, leaning on each other, we'd developed a strong bond.
"How's the seduction going?"
I snorted as I picked up both mugs and strode to the table, sitting down to eat. I had errands to run before coming home and calling my boy. I still remembered the way Devon had gasped when I said I could put him over my knee. That was probably a low move, but I wanted to hear his reaction at least.
"Promising."
"You were always stubborn when it came to things you wanted."
"Do you have a problem with this? You'd accepted it when I told you years ago."
He set his fork on the side of his plate, took a long drink of his coffee, and I rolled my eyes at his procrastination ploy. He’d told me enough times how my mother would handle him when he got bratty. My dad had the potential to be a world-class brat.
"You were fifteen. I assumed it was a crush. We've all had one on someone older. It's like a teen rite of passage. I hate that your crush made you leave."
"But you always told me that Mom told you you'd be hers the first night she'd met you."
That serene smile I loved to see on my dad's face always made an appearance when I mentioned Mom. I wish I'd had her around growing up and giving me advice.
"And I've always said you're exactly like her. But, Bern, you set your sights on a married man."
"Which he isn't anymore. I lived my life. Did things I enjoyed, but I always felt I was waiting for him. I hated watching him become so miserable, and all I wanted to do was make him smile."
"Your dominant nature peaked early."
I laughed as I stared at him. "It's only for him."
"Bern, I just want you to know that you can't play with him and not intend to keep him. Be sure about this. I know you're level-headed and have always known what you want out of life. Lawrence was cruel in his treatment of him. He starved Devon of the most basic things. It was so clear what he was doing, and Devon couldn't be oblivious enough that he didn't see it."
"Not a day has gone by that I haven't thought about him. Waking up each morning and hating that he wasn't beside me. Enraged that another man was touching him and then learning that he was being ignored. Starved for love. This isn't some whim. Nothing has changed about my feelings except that I want him more. I'm older, I'
ve accepted who I am, and I want to be for him what Mom was for you."
He silently studied me, and I could see his mind working. I watched the shifting of emotions in his blue eyes. Memories of a past he missed. The only woman he loved or ever would love, and I hated that he couldn't see that he could find someone else like her. I'd told him over the years, loving someone else wouldn't diminish what he'd felt for her, but he couldn't see it. I wanted that type of love, and I knew I could find it with Devon. He was everything I'd wanted and I one day wanted to see the same sereneness in his gaze when he thought of me like my dad did my mom.
"Your mom always had this way. Calm yet commanding. With one touch, she could drive all the darkness away. I'll never find that again."
"I don't agree, but I respect your thoughts on that."
He shook his head. "You sounded so much like your mother right then. We discussed everything. I trusted her to know what was best, but she always took my feelings into account."
"Did you have a Domme before her?"
"Oh no, I'd never even thought about a relationship like that in my life. My parents were very traditional. The man worked and made the decisions. Mom stayed home to raise the kids and take care of the house. Dad took her and us for granted and instilled in me and my brothers that women were subservient because they were weaker. I didn't like it, but that's the way I grew up."
"We've never talked about it before, but why don't I see my grandparents or uncles?"
"You know your mother was brought up in foster care, but my dad noticed things when I brought your mom home. He took offense at the way she took care of me. The way I'd sit beside her feet on the floor and lean my head on her knee. I loved when she combed her fingers through my hair." He closed his eyes as if bringing up the mental picture and sensation, and when he opened them, I saw the sadness there. "He found it disgusting that I deferred to her for decisions. He told me I wasn't a man and my brothers treated their wives just like Dad treated Mom, and saw it as nothing problematic. My mother looked twice her age because she was so beat down and miserable. Your mom showed me that I didn't have to accept that life. I couldn't subject you to it. When you came out as gay, I realized that they would've subjected you to so much if I'd tried to reconnect."
I hadn't even thought twice about coming out. My dad didn't even appear to react to the fact if someone was gay or not. His best friend was married to a man and never once had I heard a hesitation when introducing someone's spouse or partner. He'd made me so comfortable and secure, that I just told him one day and he gave me a hug and told me to have a good day at school.
"I'm not complaining."
"We made our own family. A safe and happy one."
"And that's why I want Devon. His happiness is my top priority."
"Just remember that. I won't try to talk you out of it. Devon deserves to be happy, and I'm sure you can do that. Now, eat your breakfast. I have to go to my studio, and you have a job interview."
Dad had turned to his art when he’d taken early retirement. A love my mom had encouraged when they’d gotten together. It was his way of connecting with her. He’d paint, and she’d curl up in a chair to watch. You could see the pride in her gaze when he’d had his first show. The picture still rested on the table next to his easel.
I ate my food that had cooled off as we talked. I had a job interview in a couple of hours. A friend of mine just started a construction company, and he was looking for some guys. I knew how to run the machinery, and I worked for his dad during the summers in high school and college. I figured I already had the job, but I wouldn't start until Monday, if I was offered the job. The weekend was for me and my boy.
One more day and then he'd be home. Until then, I'd call and talk to him, make sure he had everything he needed. I had so many plans and needed to go shopping. I was going to take my boy on our first date, and it had to be perfect. Patience was getting harder to come by because Devon was so close and free. Nothing was holding me back from claiming him.
I knew he wouldn't understand at first, and he might resist because of who I was. I'd be sympathetic and listen to his concerns. We'd need to talk about rules, limits, and expectations. I'd give him anything he needed even if that was just time to think because if he agreed to be mine, I wasn't letting him go.
5
Devon
I worked my favorite toy slowly into my hole. The girth was almost too much to take, and I opened my legs wider, adding lube to my crease. I gasped loudly as another few inches slipped inside. This was the first time I’d tried to get off since my divorce, and I’d been horny for days. The teasing had started in the shower, and I’d had to get out because I wanted to be filled as I got myself off.
Whimpering like a slut as I forced the last three inches past my rim. I could only give myself the pain because my ex hadn’t liked to get too sweaty. Shaking my head, I drove all thoughts of Lawrence from my head. I craved the weight of a big body on mine. I wanted to be handled roughly. Forced to submit, I wanted slow too, but I longed for what I’d never had.
I dug my heels into the mattress as I worked my ass along the nine, extra-thick inches of dildo. I refused to touch my dick just yet. I just wanted to lose myself in the burn of being filled. Bringing my toy on trips wasn’t something I did, but I’d added it to my suitcase at the last minute. Its presence taunting me until need broke me after three days of denying myself an orgasm.
The well-lubed toy made nasty, slick sex sounds as the base connected with my hole. I rolled over to straddle a towel covered pile of pillows and held the base. I grunted at the sharp twinge as the angle changed, and I rode the length pinching my nipples. My head was thrown back, and I stroked my body, dug my blunt nails into my clenched thigh to keep from stroking my cock. It would be over too soon. I wanted to savor this even if it was just an orgasm by my own hand.
My sex drive had been non-existent for nearly a year, hell, longer than that and it was back with a vengeance. I nearly cried as my phone started ringing. No! I just needed a little longer. My client was making life difficult, and I ignored it as I fucked myself onto my dildo faster. It was fucking heaven, and the thick veined length tortured my gland. I felt my balls tightening. I was so close to getting off without even touching my cock.
I cursed louder as my phone went off again and there I sat on my toy, a sweaty, frustrated mess. I jerked my phone from the nightstand and checked the display. Bern. Then I noticed the missed call was from him too, and I got worried.
I quickly connected the call. “Is everything okay?” I started to lift myself off the pillow and then froze. The guttural laughter in my ear made me clench, and I sank back down on my toy. I bit my lip to conceal my moan.
“Hi, boy. Everything is fine. You know I call at this time to check on you.”
Unexpectedly my heart started to pick up the pace again.
“Tell me about your day, baby boy.”
I had to clear my throat before I could speak. I felt naughty as I realized I was rocking my hips as he spoke to me. My body felt as if I was racing toward a panic attack, but this was different. Desire I’d rarely experienced turned my blood to fire. I lowered my chin to my chest, seeing myself bare, and my little cock hard and leaking. The newness of it shocked me. A flash of Bern beneath me with his waist pushing my thighs wide, and I was filled by him. Shame infused every cell of my being, and suddenly, my desire fled—leaving me close to tears.
“Come on, baby, tell me.”
I shivered from head to toe when he called me baby. It was so inappropriate. He was almost twenty years younger than me, and I wanted to call him Daddy so badly. He was commanding and caring. Every night since I arrived, he called me and ordered me dinner, but only after giving me time to bathe.
“What’s wrong? You’re quiet. Do I need to come get you?”
“No, no, I’m coming home tomorrow. My client is making a pain of himself, but I just have to make it through one more morning meeting.”
A part of m
e I’d hidden shattered and I wanted this—this moment, taboo as it was, it was a single act I craved. And just for tonight, I wanted to take it for myself. I was proud that I kept my voice steady even as I started to fuck myself again. His voice belonged to the Daddy Bear of my dreams. I bit the inside of my cheek to help control the sounds threatening to be heard.
“You sure?”
I hummed an affirmative. I wanted Bern to keep talking to me. There was something wrong with me, but I couldn’t control it. My body had taken over. All I wanted to do was come as he growled in my ear. I was nasty, and I pictured him spanking me for my actions.
“Want me to pick you up at the airport?”
I was having a hard time concentrating as my brain wanted me to demand him call me baby or boy again. I bet his weight would push me into the mattress as he pounded—I shook my head as the images started to materialize. I’d seen the hair that peeked over the collar of his shirt. His hands would be strong around the back of my neck as I nuzzled his hairy chest as he used my ass...brutal and feral. Him losing all control as he owned my hole. I wanted to feel his cum fill me as he called me Daddy’s good boy.
“Devon?” His tone was sharp, and I wondered how long he’d waited for me to answer. “Boy, what are you doing?”
“N-nothing, I think I’m just exhausted and stressed.” I lied as I held tighter to the base and started riding the length faster—slammed my ass onto it and it took everything in me to keep my breathing normal. I wanted to beg him to keep talking. More than that, I wanted to be at home taking his cock instead of something that, in my imagination, could only be second best. I needed him to want me so much that he kept me naked so he could have access to my hole whenever he wanted it. I wanted to tell him that I was fucking myself as I talked to him. Maybe if I said something, I could listen to him tell me what he wanted to do to me. I could have him order me to perform for him. Hear him jacking his dick to thoughts of dominating me. If I could just open my mouth, we could watch each other.
