Not everyone likes the same sex as I do. And not all of you will like the same type of sex as today’s guest poster. As we’ve discussed before, the brilliant thing about fantasy is that it allows you to explore things that would horrify you if they were actually real.
I like to host things by people who have different opinions and perspectives to me. This includes people who have jobs I don’t have, disagree with my opinions on foreplay or indulge in fantasies that aren’t specific turn-ons for me. Because there’s no bloody point in me banging my ‘everyone’s different’ drum if the only ever sex you read about on this blog is mine.
Today, Mimieux is going to talk about her penchant for Daddy/daughter role play, and why she finds older men compellingly hot. It’s hot, and it’s feisty, and it’s the sort of thing that may well offend some people. Before you start I’m going to assure you that a) both people involved in their relationship are well over 18 and b) she is deeply excited about sharing her fantasy with you.
Please don’t read if this is the sort of thing that offends you, or if you have difficulty drawing a line between fantasy and reality.
Fuck me harder, Daddy
For as long as I can remember, I’ve liked older, slightly twisted guys. It started when I was very young, and I always identified with the villain in the Disney films. I think it was something to do with the excellent songs they always had: seriously, go and listen to Be Prepared from The Lion King – what’s not to love? I think it’s also the gravelly, gritty voices. Jeremy Irons (who voices Scar, amongst other roles) is the perfect Daddy figure, in my eyes.
Before we carry on, I think it’s important to say that I don’t want to fuck my actual father, and that I’m aware that a lot of sexual abuse of young girls (and sons too) happens at the hands of a father, or a father figure. I am in no way condoning incest, just writing about my experiences of specific, safe, sane, roleplaying.
I knew things were a bit off when I read Lolita, and not only did I enjoy it, but I felt aroused by it. Totally depraved, but then… I like depraved things. I really do. Older guys have this thing that guys my own age (early 20s) don’t have. They have experience, not just sexual experience, but also life experience. I like the idea of discussing what’s worrying me with my partner, and getting a real, honest answer, something I don’t get with guys my own age. I also love to be pampered, and looked after. I love the idea of being Daddy’s little princess. I love that there’s a natural element of care with this dynamic: more protective, more nurturing than some of the other dominant/submissive dynamics I’ve seen on the London fetish scene. I’m not saying that these other dynamics aren’t caring, but they don’t hold the same allure for me as the Daddy idea does.
I think part of what it is, for me, is that it’s so incredibly wrong. And I’m a sick and twisted individual, but that’s what gets me off, in this case anyway. I’m a natural people pleaser (as well as a cruel sadist, but that’s another story) and I just love the idea of Daddy coming all over my face, down my throat, or even in my long, then greeny/blue hair. I also like to play a bit naïve sometimes, especially in terms of sex; I’ve done my fair share of shagging, and sometimes it’s nice to have guidance, to hear dirty, dirty things.
For instance, one time Daddy and I were warming up for some messy sex, and he was fingering me (well, I think he was fisting me, but I was pretty spaced out on a massive concoction of hedonism) and he was telling me how many fingers he had inside me, and I was being all coy about it.
‘Oh, baby, look at your pussy, look how wide it’s stretching out for me, oh darling, your cunt, that’s three fingers I have inside you now, all the way up to the knuckles, how does that feel, slut?’
‘Daddy, more, put another one in me, please, I want to see how much of your hand I can take’ (actually on recollection, this does sound like a porn film, and a little bit contrived, but honest to God, that’s how we were speaking)
‘Do you like it when Daddy fists your pussy?’
‘Yes, Daddy, you’re the first one to do it for me, to give me so much pleasure… please…’ *orgasming*
‘After all the times you fooled around with those silly little boys after school, now look at you, you’re taking my whole hand up your pussy – they stretched you out for me, baby, but you’re still so, so tight’
God it’s just so hot to see Daddy pounding away at me, if I look over my left shoulder, I can see him out of the corner of my eye, and sometimes we make eye contact, and this is when I really come into my own as a slutty little daughter – I’ll say how sorry I was for coming home drunk, with Rob’s come in my hair, how sorry I was for being late, but that maybe if this was the punishment I was going to get, that I should do it more often, that I should be a whore more. Maybe I should sit around on the sofa, watching TV in ripped stockings, smeared lipstick, hair like Amy Winehouse, smoking a cigarette (Daddy likes it when I smoke), maybe I should be a bad, bad girl, if it means I get such a thorough seeing to.
Sometimes he’ll spank my arse a bit, sometimes he’ll bite me as he’s balls deep inside me, sometimes he’ll pull my hair, and sometimes I’ll just shout and scream profanities (I’m quite loud, you know) about how much I love Daddy’s cock, how he needs to fuck me harder, and the best, is when he tells me I’m not allowed to come until I’ve asked permission. I come quite easily, with a good, hard ramming; I’ve yet to disobey him, after all, he is my Daddy, and I don’t want to disappoint him.
I think in terms of our Daddy/daughter roleplaying, it’s purely sexual, but there are elements of this relationship (not that we’re ‘together’) that I find comforting, and delicious. The fact that he looks after me, and holds me after we’ve had sex, he’ll cook for me, and explain to me Formula 1 whilst I actively try to keep up, actively try and engage. He’ll massage my back for me, when I’m complaining of cramps or trapped nerves. I love that he has chest hair, and that some of these hairs are grey, I love that I get to stroke his chest as I fall asleep, like he’s a big bear (funny thing is, he’s quite a slim/svelte/toned guy, not that he’ll thank me for saying that), and he’s so, so warm, so firm as well. Maybe this says more about my decisions on past sexual partners, rather than anything else, but I digress.
I love that I can call him or Skype him and we can chat for a good couple of hours, and I can tell him about what’s worrying me, tell him things I can’t tell my real dad, because it would be weird. I do see him as a father figure, but not as my real father. For me, some of the caring elements bleed over, into ‘real life’, but I can still draw the distinction. When we first got together, I was calling him Daddy all the time, he was saved on my phone as Daddy, I’d answer and end each call with Hi/See you later Daddy… it became overkill. Every now and then, it’s nice to toy with it in a public setting, see if people do think he really is my dad… that is, until, I shove my tongue down his throat.