I’m going to call you baby girl because it scares you. I’m going to take your hand when we get to the museum and whisper in your ear as we look at the Yayoi Kusama. Later, over coffee, I’ll tell you the story about the time I met Carolee Schneemann and how drunk she got. I’m going to tell you what it felt like to sleep curled around a heating vent in a black box theater on the lower east side.
When we get home, I’m going to help you in the kitchen where I can. I’m going to set the table. I’m going to pour the drinks. I’ll run to the store to get that ingredient you need and be back in a flash. I’m going to sit and watch you light the candles. I’m going to lift my glass and thank you for this meal. “Thank you, baby girl,” I’ll say, “This looks delicious.”
Later, we’ll sit on the couch. You’ll loosen my tie for me. I’ll ask you to tell me about your day. I’m going to remind you who you are. I’m not going to let you sell yourself short. I’m not going to let you say bad things about yourself. You are my baby girl and I will defend you to the end.
And then you will tell me. You will tell me something you did. Or I will bring something up that I noticed. It will be a moment. You will look down, blushing. I will wait. You know what to do next. I’ll lift my arm and you’ll lay across my lap. I’ll spank you once or twice through your clothes. And then shift your body and unbutton, unzip, bare your ass to me. I’ll pet you first. Run my fingernails across the backs of your thighs. I’ll smack your ass with my palm. Redden your cheeks as much as necessary. It will depend on what you did. I’ll feel sorry for your pain. I’ll forgive you immediately.
I grab your wrist and pull you off the couch with me. I pull you down the hallway. I’ll pull you to the bed. I’ll stand in front of you while you sit on the edge. I’ll rest my fingers lightly on your shoulders. You know. You will unbuckle my belt, unbutton my pants. You will find my cock and kiss it. I watch your head, your mouth. I feel it.
You are my good baby girl. My sweet baby. I stare down at you and revel in my good fortune. My beautiful, best, sharp, sexy girl. We grow together. You fill me with a desire to learn so that I can teach you. I push you to trust yourself as I trust you. And I trust you completely.
I’m filled with this love for you. I push you backwards onto the bed. I need to fuck you now. Now. Immediately. Ripping your clothes off. I leave your bra on but jerk it down off your breasts. My mouth, my hands all over you. I’m pushing my cock inside you. Impatient. You cry out. You bite my ear. “Call me Daddy,” I grunt. I’m lost. I need you. Support me. I’ll move the world for you. “Fuck me, Daddy. I’ve missed you,” you say and I come immediately. Panting, sweating, feeling old.
I pull out of you quickly and shove you up higher on the bed. I bury my face in your pussy. You try to wriggle away from me but I hold you tight. I am growling. Your wolf. Needing to devour you. Your smell, your taste make me crazy. I lift your ass off the bed, my mouth still on you. I need to hold you. I need to feel your weight in my arms. I need to call on my strength. When you come, I still won’t leave you alone. You slap at my head. You yell out.
I stop. I drop you to the bed. I stare at you, wild eyed. I unbutton my shirt slowly. I strip myself. I take a second to remove your bra. I put my hand on my cock and stare into your eyes while I enter you. You hold my stare. Slow. I pull your legs up. My hands on your thighs. Let me look into your eyes while I fuck you. I fall so deep. I fall into you. You absorb me. Absolve me. “Fuck me, Daddy,” you whisper to me. You make me fight back tears. A lump in my throat. “Fuck me, Daddy,” again and again. You whisper. You stare. You stay with me. Slow. Steady. Calm.
I fuck you. I fuck you until we fall asleep. I wrap myself against your side. “I love you, baby girl,” I say. “Hush,” you say, “I was almost asleep.” I squeeze you tight. I listen to you sleep for hours before I doze off. “I love you, baby girl,” I whisper as you sleep.