I love my Daddy very much. My father, whom I always until the day he died called Daddy, passed away in 2002. He was in his seventies and I do believe he was ready to go, having lived through many good years and enjoyed many triumphs. Getting to see me grow up and get a good job and settle down with a nice man and have a stable home was one of the things I was able to give Daddy before he died. Like me, my father had only a high school diploma to his educational curriculum vitae. I want to be absolutely crystal clear, that while I frequently use the term “daddy” in these stories, I am using always as a contemporary gay sex term. I want t be totally clear on that. I am completely fine with any language or terminology you prefer, but I try very hard to be clear.
I have a huge vocabulary, know enough Latin to recognize its influence on many English words and to navigate most medical and legal documents with a pretty good understanding of what they say, regardless of what language is used to express the ideas of medicine or law. Sometimes I try to outsmart these professionals, just for sport. If I really put my all in it, I have about a fifty percent success rate. I try real hard to understand situations before I take any action at all. I make mistakes of course. Though over the years I like to think I make fewer of them these days than I once did. And these days I rarely make little mistakes. If I make a mistake now it’s usually a doozy.
That I have a debilitating mental illness plus several other physical challenges that make me unable to work in a regular job. (Like so many people who once had regular jobs, I am now a consultant. I don’t really do much, but if you have a problem, you might talk to me about it. I usually give anyone and everyone a full hour of my time before I mention a fee and insist on being paid before going any further. It’s very possible that I may be able to help you solve many different problems, and it really won’t cost you anything to ask me about it.
I’ll almost certainly ask you questions about whatever problem (or fantasy) you need help with. It seems a bit odd sometimes to tell clients that we help with both practical every day problems (who’s the best person to call to fix my NOUN? is one of the easiest problems I’ve ever solved. The most complicated fantasy involved 5 guests and 3 crew members as well the client. I assure you it was a night the client will never forget. My hourly rate is really the same, whether you just want to consult with me online or want me and (possibly) other crew members to help them have what may well be one of the best nights of their lives. Many times, it appears to me, people struggle in their sex lives from failing to be clear on their purposes and goals. They don’t know WHY they have set up the date, and they end up surprised that their plans didn’t go quite the way they hoped.
Setting up a sexual scene certainly can be as simple as posted an ad somewhere, screening the responses, negotiating a meeting ad then just doing it (four steps). My ads always say, keep it to three e-mails. If some one says it’s for “right now”, I expect to have firm plans with very few things left to be nailed down by the third e-mail you send me. If you don’t really me RIGHT now, just be vague on WHEN and talk much more about WHAT. I would definitely have to get to know you to even think about doing that for you. So remember, I’m going to ask questions for at least an hour before I even mention anything about money. You’ll have to decide if I am worth what I charge during the getting to know me hour
I urge you to read my stories and enjoy them. If you want to just say hello, or to share something with me, feel free to leave a reply. I do read all comments, but no comments are every published on this site. I may reply if I can easily be of specific assistance with regards to your question or comment. I Never consider fan mail to be in any way a chore. It is always a pleasure to read it. I would never dream of charging you for the time I spent reading a fan letter. So if we are talking about a business thing, I’ll be sure to let you know long before you’ve used up your free hour.
Honestly? I consider myself the luckiest mother fucker on the planet. I’m not yet 50 years old, I’m getting decent health care and may hope to live another 10 or 20 years, given what I know about my family history and current health. I’m married to a man who loves me, understands me and as much as he can takes care of me, which I love and appreciate him for no end. My kitty is on his own journey. We both spend our days writing stories. All of these stories are fiction. We have a fantastic relationship in meatspace and instant messages. We lead completely separate writing and other online lives. He knows who my closest friends hare and gives me greetings from names of people he’s mentioned before. And I am interested in his life and know who some of the most important people are in his world.
But I have no contact info for them. I know of them only as my Kitty tells me stories about them. My Kitty and I both write fiction. That means we make up the names and invent the specific words out of whole cloth. That is what a writer of fiction really does. He tells true stories and makes them sound perfectly believable. But he never name names and always changes so many details that only the most hard-core fan would be able to readily learn a wallet name. Only to find it belongs only to a wallet name of an online ghost. Who only appears as a character in a few online stories. Which in a way, is more or less exactly what all of these stories at heart really are. That this is the fourth or fifth introductory post, and I have done little more than list the cast of characters, and lay down a few ground rules and comply with a few laws, shows either that I am the rare writer who has the real skill to tell a tale that will draw in readers and keep them coming back for more and more through a full one thousand and one nights of talking about real sex. With real men. And no real names.
The sex in these stories is Real. The men in these stories are as the author imagines them. Except for telling you that my huzband is named Kitty and writes stories I stopped reading, since he didn’t seem to need a lot more help getting started and he will do so much better work without me looking over him. If I outlive my kitty, as seems likely, I feel certain that I will be able to publish all of his work somewhere or another. I know that he will not begrudge me that– yea we’ve talked about it. And it will be such a joy some day in the future to read all of the words he wrote and to hear in those words his voice and have those words to forever call him to my memory. More than the profits from publishing his work, that memory will be my real reward.
I promise, that I have almost, very nearly finished with the introductory bullshit. I really am going to be telling stories about men having sex very soon now. These stories will, I hope, be as literate and readable as those in mainstream pornography, but to be witty and clever, filled with cultural references.
Try very hard to think in explicit detail about what it is you WANT. If you want to know a lot about fisting, I could help you with at most 5 minutes of my time and share some resources and point you in some directions. On the other hand if you’ve never been fisted and want to try it out, I could do that for you too. But that would be a 3 hour out call at 100/hour plus additional charges if you want film made or need help finding guests or any other questions that may arise in the course of producing your event.
Any day now, I promise. I really will stop with the introductory stuff and start telling you the stories I know you came to hear. Soon. Real Soon. I promise.