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This is a repost from a Tumblr series that I called “My perfect dad.” I’m preserving these older stories and continuing to write new ones available on this site first.

The end credits rolled. I removed my VR glasses and looked at my best friend Paul, who was sitting next to me on the sofa. “I actually liked the sequel better,” I said, referring to the actifilm we’d just played together. “The characters were more interesting.” 

Paul half-nodded. “I guess. What’s taking your dad so long with our snacks?” 

I leaned back and looked into the kitchen. It was empty. I pressed the call button on the coffee table, but there was no response. 

This is a repost from a Tumblr series that I called “My perfect dad.” I’m preserving these older stories and continuing to write new ones available on this site first.

Stud, you know I love you, and I love exploring all this role play stuff together. But I’m not sure I can wear all this gear. It looks really tight and constricting. It looks uncomfortable, and—don’t take this the wrong way, Babe—a little weird. 

Don’t get me wrong. I love the dad/Son role play we’ve been doing lately. Hell, last night when we were in bed together, and you whispered in my ear, “Hey dad, hold me until I fall asleep,” I got all kinds of chills up and down my spine. I’ve loved wearing all the plaid shirts and overalls and work boots you’ve brought home for me, too, Stud. Who’d have thought that dad/Son role play would strike such a chord with us?