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.
“Take a deep breath in, dad.”
I comply, and immediately I feel a wave of pleasure and relaxation rush from my head down to the soles of my feet. My chest and belly expand and stretch the fabric of my tight shirt, a sensation I instantly associate with pleasure and obedience. I hold my breath—my Son didn’t give me permission to exhale just yet—and look at my image on the computer screen.
When I am clearer headed, I think I look stupid. My fat belly strains the buttons of my cheap shirt. My tie is clumsily tied and too short, making me look even sloppier. My khaki pants are so worn out in the crotch from my tree-trunk thighs rubbing together with every step. It’s just a matter of time before the seams completely give out.
But in my current state of mind, I think I look perfect. So worthy of the name ‘dad.’
“Rest your hands on your knees, dad.”
“Yes, Son.” I comply. It feels good to obey, and I feel that same rush of pleasure down my spine. I am relaxed, and my expression shows it. Detached, emotionless, awaiting orders, quietly desiring to be put to use for my handsome Son.
W/we’ve never met in person. Can you believe it? It’s been 10 years since O/our first online chat. He was a hot young Dom in His early 20s back then, cocky and inexperienced. I took Him under my wing and showed Him the ropes. I never expected He would grow into the role as well as He did.
“Show me how you sit on the bus, dad.”
I press the heels of my hands into my knees and lean my big body forward on the bed, pushing my thighs apart as far as they can go. My crotch bulges between my legs, both from the physics of forcing my belly forward and my legs apart and from the pleasure from what my Son has done to my body and mind. I open my lips to speak words I know by heart and yet can never remember.
“Your dad takes up space wherever he goes, Son.”
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