Daddy: Nine Stories of First Time Gay Dominant Daddies

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For me, resisting this means protecting myself from my father’s influence. I no longer ask him for parenting advice, or share intimate details of that part of myself. He’s not allowed to weigh in on the relationship between my son and me. And, as my therapist suggested, I keep a watchful eye out and actively intervene when he’s with my son, even if that causes a conflict between my dad and me.

Wrestling With My Father - Longreads Wrestling With My Father - Longreads

I remember sitting on your lap all the time when I was little. I wanted to see if I could still fit.” I explained. Other authority figures were of no help. The pediatrician threw his hands up and said, “Sounds like a tough kid.” Book after book suggested systems of consequences and rewards, but those only escalated my son’s violence. During time-outs, he’d launch himself at the door of his room with a force that seemed five times too powerful for his size. I’d have to lean my entire weight against the door to prevent him from escaping, while, like a caged animal, he banged his hands, feet, and even his head against it. Once freed, he’d come for me. At the playground, other parents kept their distance from both of us. Playdates dried up. Then he discovered scratching, sometimes digging his nails into my wife’s wrists and mine until he drew blood. Once he head-butted me in the crotch, a move that left me hobbling. For a time, the entire family bore scars. Only once do I remember snuggling next to him as he read Treasure Island to me in bed. I didn’t like the story, preferring the contemporary fantasy books, full of dragons and magic, that I read with my mom. Dismissing my preference and angry I couldn’t appreciate a classic he’d loved so much as a child, he decided to never read to me again. As I entered adolescence, I don’t recall any touch between us at all. We returned to hugging at some point after college. A tight grip around the shoulders, followed almost without fail, to this day, by a “You look good.”All my preparations and quivering anticipation was to have ended in bliss, the kind only my father could give me.

Daddy Dom/Little Boy | Archive of Our Own

However, don’t make the mistake of thinking there’s anything close to a surplus of these stories! Not only do many incredible LGBTQ+ stories remain as-yet untold, but when you think about it, there are hardly any of them in the mainstream when compared to straight, cis narratives — which is why it’s such good news that this trend doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. Read the best new LGBTQ+ stories right here You mean, Daddy still wants his baby?” Language: English Words: 1,248 Chapters: 1/1 Collections: 1 Comments: 13 Kudos: 705 Bookmarks: 77 Hits: 8,244 As a teenager, I sat in with several musicians and learned from truly the best. After college, I started playing steady gigs. I played down at The Cajun for 18 years, two nights a week. They had music there seven nights a week. No cover charges. No minimum. It was extremely rare to find a place like that in NYC. They struggled to stay open for decades, barely making a profit. But they never wanted to close their doors to anyone. They were true lovers of music, hoping to spread joy to others. It was a beautiful place to be. It was safe. Courtesy of Jon Seiger

Are you sure you understood? It’s just that you didn’t laugh at all when I said it. I mean, I was practically admitting to being a drug mule!” All my preparations and quivering anticipation was to have ended in bliss, the kind only my father could give me… I was my father’s lover and he was mine. Everything was perfect.

Mr Byers And His Boy – Don’t Wake Mom - Family Dick Mr Byers And His Boy – Don’t Wake Mom - Family Dick

Based off of the dialogue prompt "Don't make me take you home and punish you." A short Frerard ficlet. A family legacy of pain, passed down from father to son. A tradition enforced by shame, because what — are you not man enough to take it? Or to deal it out? This is how the rules of the patriarchy propagate themselves. didn’t seem an option at the time. I kinda felt I’d gone too far, that last week of summer. Yet I still longed for his touch. In my experience, this dysfunction defines how dads relate to their sons, not just as children, but as adults too. Through small jabs and takedowns, my dad has ensured the scars from his abuse have stayed open, oozing and infected, making healing impossible. He remains the dominant one; it’s essential, it seems, to how he views family. Even when it comes to my relating to my own child, he believes he knows best, or better than me anyway. A father and son are making a fortune on OnlyFans sharing naked photos of themselves hanging out together.I hugged him too, when he did something for me, when I’d done something that made him proud or just because. The next time I did it, I waited again until he was watching something that interested him enough to stay seated even while I crawled into his lap.

and sub Stories - Life Hierarchy Dom and sub Stories - Life Hierarchy

Today, I feel in control of my life because I’m telling my story. I’ve taken ownership. I hope that telling my story can help others, too.” Courtesy of Jon Seiger I felt his muscles tense up and realized my question might’ve sounded a bit naughtier than I had intended.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. Diego stared at Klaus, completely dumbfounded. How dense did he think he was? “I know that, Klaus.” My dad, on his knees in sweats, gigantic mitts at his side, had a variety of assaults, which he would announce with monstrous growls. My therapist gives a name to what I witnessed and experienced with my dad growing up: abuse. Physical and mental abuse. He recommends never leaving my son alone with my dad again. I would forever be grateful for my looks; it was my ultimate shield. It helped me survive and helped my resolve. I set off on a mission, to hurt as I had been hurt. I soon became very successful. I brought both boys and men to their knees. I killed them and still left them alive. I remember the families that fought themselves over me, the brothers that would never forgive each other, the scandalized churches and governments, the suicides, the bankruptcies. There is a lot a body can do when it is rightly motivated.