Disclaimer: This is homoerotic fiction. If you are offended by it, underage, or such literature is restricted in your area, please obey whatever legalities apply--otherwise enjoy.
JUST A FANTASY Copyright 2005 Siktici
Chief Robert Gilmore, a crusty 26-year veteran of the army, my daddy-boyfriend of eight months, stood his 6-foot, 8-inch stockiness in my door, and shadowed me in coolness. "Let's go," he ordered, standing with paws on hips, his crew cut looking as severe as his expression. A daily runner, Big Daddy still carried around a paunch that for me only added to his handsomeness--the quintessential daddy.
"Let's go where? Let's go where, Big Daddy?" I craned my head to search his glassy green eyes, only made so by pain medication he took for a war wound. He never talked about the wound or the war. I never pushed. (Something about him made me boyish--I was about to turn twenty-five--and that same something made me want to succeed for him.)
"You'll see, boy," he said with a tone signaling annoyance under control. Secretly, I liked his tone, a bear-like grumble, mostly; but if I made him ornery, the grumbled turned to a growl, which signaled I had ruffled his fur.
Grabbing my hand, Big Daddy pulled me toward the car, only stopping long enough for me to lock my apartment. As soon as I got in the car, he stopped me with instructions: "Don't ask `cause I'm not tellin' (He said that in his growling voice)." As we rode to this secret destination, Big Daddy continually looked at me.
"What, Big Daddy?" I asked in "laddy," tone of voice.
He grabbed my leg, squeezed a bit hard, and looked at me while his tongue slowly slid warmly over his bottom lip. Maybe at that moment, I had turned into a fresh kill or a delectable feast. Then in his daddy bear-ready-for-sex voice, guttural and gravelly, he finally said, "You're just a damn hot boy, that's all." But he paid the complement with his eyes on the road.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
His expression remained even. I looked at him, his bushy mustache, the salt and cinnamon crew cut, and a fleshy face over a square jaw--so handsome. Although we had only been together eight months, I started to believe I loved him, and more damaging, as this sudden trip proved, perhaps, too soon, I had fallen (again) for a man who was more attracted to my youth and than my character. My last daddy was--it almost destroyed me. On the other hand, I didn't sense that with Big Daddy, and although I was waiting for him to use me and send me away, I would have admitted to anyone that I wanted to be in a long-term relationship with him. I loved his body, a daddy's body: his handsome face, his meatiness, and the hair all over his body; I loved the way my body fit snuggly into his embrace; and I especially love the secure and warm feeling I get when he teaches me life, love, and sex lesson. (I'm sure he doesn't think he does.) Just thinking of the possibilities a future with him, remembering our passionate nights, and having him near to me made in the care made me hard. Keeping my cock from tenting my gym shorts was difficult so I just folded my arms and pressed my cock down to straining. I was becoming as anxious as he seemed to be about our destination. We rode on in semi-silence. In the humid Houston sun, he took Highway 45 to an unfamiliar exit and followed the frontage road to a La Quinta. It was the end of hazy commerce and cars mozied along 45 like longhorns in a weary herd. But this was the future, and this was a herd of stop and go traffic, all belching contributions to the stifling heat. In the waning day of commerce we edged toward our destination until the La Quinta stood faded and exhausted against a sky fuzzed in baked pollution. Big Daddy pulled his Electra 225 (he thought newer cars were for "milquetoast-panty stains. "Stay here," he said and patted me on the leg. I really loved my daddy, but bring me to a La Quinta had me a little worried.
"Why are we--"?
"Just shut up and stay here." Daddy said in mild anger. He had never supported his anger with violence but I was a good boy and knew when to obey. Yes, he was being stern with me, but I liked that about him, too. He came back with a key, got in the car, and said nothing as we drove to the back. So finally, he's treating me like my other daddy. The thought flashed in my mind, an ad of disappointment, and movement of subliminal distress. He just wants me around for his own pleasure, to worship my youth, to indulge my slender, hairless body, and monopolize my yearning to please him. Maybe I deserved it for my disobedience, my inability to get involved with older guys who really loved me, but I never thought I would end up in the same situation. I decided to wait to see what happened. After telling him about my first daddy, I never dreamed he would treat me the same. I wonder what I did, or said, to make him want to do this.
We drove to the backside of the building. It seemed the perfect room: one away from the street, a room to hide forbidden desires. First rule: never be seen with a man almost half your age. It had been eight months and I had never met his family. No man wanted to be in the position of explaining his "indiscretions," especially indiscretions with a younger man. He had to hide dirty little secrets like me.
The room was larger than it looked from the outside. Well, at least this place was a step up from some dirty motel. I didn't want to see him again after this. He said he was my daddy; he said he would never hurt me or humiliate me; and now he was doing just that. I wondered how I could have trusted Big Daddy so, because up to now, he had been so kind, so gentle, and so loving. My heart was sinking, so I took a deep breath and waited for his instructions. He wouldn't catch my gaze, another sign that maybe I was going to be punished; he had never punished me with sex before, and up to now, he was tender when we made love. How could I have been so blind? I felt like such a fool. I could easily just walk away, but I wanted to be sure about him.
"Go get undressed," he said, putting down a large gym bag and drawing the curtains. Glumly, I headed to the bathroom, but stopped in anger, "I'll do this but I don't want to see you again." "Just get in the bathroom," he said, still without looking at me. I wanted to see--I needed to see--his eyes; I needed to see truth in them.
As I prepared in the bathroom, I heard the increasing volume of Robin Trower's In City Dreams playing from the other room. Hey, that's my favorite song. Well, maybe it would help take the sting from the situation: music to soothe the increasing hurt welling up in me. Except for a slit of light angled across the bed, the room was dark. Big Daddy stood in the far corner dressed in chaps, a harness, and a leather vest. On his head, he wore a hat with a small metal shield centered at the hat's peak. A glint of light bounced off it as he passed the angled light.
"Okay, boy," he said huskily, "it's time to fulfill your fantasy."
My smile widened. He remembered. This was not some horrible moment of seedy, selfish sex, and he wasn't treating me like my other lover had. He had been listening to a fantasy I shared months ago while we talked late into the night. I was more than impressed, I was grateful.
"Come here, boy." The coolness of the room vanished when I walked into his warm and fuzzy arms. Then he pushed me away. I fell across the bed and waited with a mixture fear and excitement growing in my stomach, but when the first heavy THWACK! stung into my flesh, the feat vanished. Another followed, and another, and another...until my ass burned hotly and my cock strained from the desire.
"You need to learn, boy!" THWACK! came another painful but gloriously heavy, flat hand on my ass. "You need to understand your Big Daddy!" THWACK!
I oozed precum into the sheets and squirmed under his discipline, and as the pain grew more intense, I raised my ass up to meet his hand: I wanted it harder; I wanted my ass redder; I needed his discipline, because for me, in that discipline there was caring, there was love, there was security.
Pulling to sitting, he sat beside me and pushed me over his hairy legs, their warmth in the cool room made my cock stiffen more. He positioned me so that his leg separated my cock from my balls, so that my cock laid flat on the thick of his leg, and so that my ass pushed out to be fingered. But first he rubbed the burning flesh of my butt, kneading each cheek and tracing a finger lightly along my hole. (Love calling my sphincter my hole; it sounds so erotic to me. Big Daddy calls it "hole" in such a way that it makes my cock jump.
"Now, boy, is this what you wanted?" he asked, soothing rubbing my ass, lightly brushing the long hairs around my hole.
"Yeah, Big Daddy, my butt is just stinging." I lay across his lap savoring the pleasure-pain of his spanking, savoring the discipline of a caring daddy.
Then suddenly he grabbed my hair, pulled me from his lap, and shoved me belly up on the bed. "Yeah, I remembered, boy; I remembered everything you said.
How treating you like the slut you are made you hot and made your cock rock hard. How get hot licks on that round boy-ass made you want to do anything for your daddy. Remember, boy? Remember how you said you wanted a man, dressed in leather, to knock you around some and discipline you like the boy pig you want to be? Remember?"
Big Daddy's face had turned red, but not with anger, with emotion, with passion, and desire, which showed in straining, venous cock, it purplish head spearing strength and masculinity, spearing aggression, spearing need. Big Daddy looked down at me with an expression I'd never seen before--one sinister intentions and sweet vulnerability, changing from one to the other as if he wanted to grant my fantasy but had misgivings. But why he would have second thoughts, I couldn't say. "So are you ready for it? Well, are you?" The questions hissed from his lips and a sneer twisted his lips. He was scaring me.
"Yeah, Big Daddy," I said but the truth wasn't in my voice. Did he hear the fear? I wanted this fantasy but I wasn't prepared to its reality: Big Daddy's aggression, my hesitant surrender. Experiencing Big Daddy's total dominance didn't appear as erotic as the porno movies I had watched, nor did I fearlessly surrender as the slaves in the movie had. I didn't know that I would react with fear.
"Be careful what you ask for; you just might get more than you want, boy," he growled. Didn't he remember that this was a fantasy? Didn't he understand that maybe I didn't really know what I wanted? And didn't he know that I didn't truly understand what a master-slave entailed? I didn't know what to do or what to say, but I didn't want to dissapoint my Big Daddy, so I was prepared to do whatever he wanted--no matter what. He raised his hands to my shoulders, the battle of misgiving still twisting his face, and roughly pushed me to my knees. Even though the room was carpet, pain spike in my knees as soon as they hit the floor. "Now, show me how much you love your daddy."
"Yes sir." I said, remember that a good slave always preceded and succeeded responses with "sir." At that moment, looking at his towering bulk, I realized I truly loved him. My trembling hands tweaked his large nipples before trailing through the thick fur of his chest and following the soft trail to his pubes. I smelled soap mixed with his manly scent and the muskiness of his crevices. The bulbous head of his cock tapped under my chin, and when I freed his ox bow of cock, it bent north. I loved seeing it thickness, the strength of it, the great power exhibited in its full expansion. His low hangers, breathing their own erotic rhythms, laid heavy and solid in my palms. I licked them, and watched their contracting dances. "Suck `em, pig," Big Daddy sneered," and I obeyed, no longer in fear but in eagerness to please. "Now, suck this one. Yeah, like that." I guess that I was doing it right, because he grabbed a hand full of my hair and clamped me down over it. "Yeah, pig, yeah; now, the other, the other, damn it. Suck on the other one. " I couldn't protest because he held my head in his crotch with his left nut still in my mouth. But I did mumble loud enough for him to realized that he had me pinned "Okay, that's enough on that one, no the other one, pig. Suck it, yeah that it." I sucked other into my mouth and put my head back in his crotch. I had learned that it turned me on; my cock throbbed at Big Daddy's rough treatment and the orders he gave me. And although I didn't know exactly why the rough treatment and the humiliating language excited me so, but I did know I didn't want him to stop. The disapproving, sinister sneer Big Daddy wore earlier had been replaced by drowsy pleasure as he nodded approval at my work. "Aaaaah, yeaah, that's my slave boy." After I while, I leaned in to put my nose under his balls to smell his hypnotic musk. His cockhead, bullishly purple, produced a steady flow of precum in the slit--glistening proof of sweet desire. Looking up, I met a gaze that melted me into pleasure and comfort: no sneer, no disapproving glare, but I saw sweet vulnerability. I realized in the glance that my daddy was no master and I was no slave; that he was only trying to bring about a fantasy for me--however misguided it seemed to him; and that I understood he was doing these things to please me--to please me. The words resounded in my ear as I released his balls and leaned away enough to look of the hair mountain that was his body. Filled with admiration and gratitude, the singular thought, the overwhelming drive was to show him how much appreciation I felt at the realization, and I said as much, My eyes wide, the perspiration glistening my forehead, I had to tell him. "Let me show you my appreciation, Big Daddy," I said with a bit of lust fogging my voice.
Cupping my head, he said, "Show me boy, show your Big Daddy." I flicked my tongue over his bullish cock head and watched it horn even higher. Big Daddy moaned louder and breathed out a heady sigh.
"Hmmmmm, that's my boy; show Big Daddy your appreciation." Sensing he no longer had to be master, his posture relaxed; his squared shoulders eased; and softness came to his voice, one of a mentor, a protector, a confidante--and yeah, even a father. He threw his head back, rolled it from side to side. I traced my tongue along underside of his cock, on the highly sensitive knot of flesh and veins. After a while, I moved to his balls (Big Daddy loves his balls sucked), and with alternate gentleness and pressure, I sucked in his balls, flicked at them with my tongue, then traced his shaft back to the head. With his cock now into my mouth, I sucked with pressure, before tracing the other side of his shaft back down to his balls where, again, I sucked in one and then the other. I did this several times as I listened to Big Daddy, "Oh yeah, boy, you know how suck Big Daddy's cock. Keep it up, boy; keep it up."
"Yes, Big Daddy," I said after a breath, only happy to obey. I traced back to his cockhead and slowly polished it with my tongue, flicking and kissing it with my tongue, rubbing over it, under it, and slathering it with spit--all of these movements made Big Daddy shiver . Then I surprised him by taking his cock all the way into my throat, holding and pulsating it there in the warm wet folds. Absent of a gag reflect, I massaged his cock with my throat muscles. The sensation made Big Daddy push his pelvis forward, first slowly, lovingly, then faster with increasing tempo. I held on for as long as I could but had to catch my breath. His cock was an enormous, curving spear of excitement. "I have to breath, Big Daddy; you're so big."
"Yeah, boy, but you can take it?" His question was more a dare than anything, so I took a deep breath and slid my mouth over his glistening cockhead, deliciously inviting, it dark purple muzzle shining in the half-light. "Ooooooh, boy, suck that cocks. Damn, that's good." As I pointed for Big Daddy to move to the bed, he grabbed my head to release his cock but I shook my head no. I wanted him to move with me still on his cock. The thought made me ooze more precum, and I felt my balls crawl a little farther into me.
Big Daddy moved slowly toward the bed, but the image of crawling on my knees as he backed to the bed made his cock throb in my mouth. He stopped a moment and rotated his pelvis this way and that, then pumped fucked my mouth as he watch his fat horn disappear up to the balls and reappear just past the edge of his cock head. I gently pressed a thumb against his hole and rubbed his taint while I gave great attention to his cock and balls. His hands took my head and slid it back and forth over his cock. Big Daddy's shaft, held stiffer by a studded cockring, began to turn a light shade of purple as it gorged with blood. Looking to the ceiling, he searched for a glimpse of Heaven; then looking down, he smiled, licked his lips, and rolled his head from side to side. Seeing his excitement only encouraged me to take more of cock into my mouth, and after a while, I managed to bury my face in his pubes. He held cock in my throat and massaged it as long as I could. The feeling drove Big Daddy wild. He rubbed my head and encouraged, "You give your daddy such good head, such really gooood head." And when he gently he removed his cock, I watch it flop against his belly. "But you gotta take it easy on Big Daddy, or I'll cum," he said and pulled me up to a loving kiss. In the darkness we kissed and explored each other's bodies. I lay my head in the silky grayness of his chest hairy, held his massive torso against me, and felt warm love radiate between us. His heart beat, the warmth of his chest and stomach, and smelled the mustiness of crevices made me hold tightly to him. I felt the flexing of his back muscles, grazed in the hairiness there, and let my hands fall to his solid and hairy ass. Big Daddy felt so good against me. His massively pink body against my mocha brown one. Our contrasts I have always held as a superb example of the yin- yang of life. And every time I looked at Big Daddy, I felt he loved me. He rubbed his callous hands over my hairless skin, then pushed me to arm's length to look at my thin body, to look into my large eyes, and to see my cock flop against my stomach as his did. Running his hands down my back, he stopped to cup my brown bottom. Taking my cheeks in both his hands, parting them with loving tenderness, he kneaded their roundness and smoothness with enormous fingers. And while slipping a thick finger between my cheeks, he whispered, "You have such a lovely ass, boy; it's such a sweet treasure. You are my hot man-boy . . . I love you, David. Don't you know that?" I looked up to find tears in his eyes, and at seeing them, tears flowed from my own as I said, "Yes, Big Daddy, I finally know."
He said the words, the words I had been waiting to hear, and that made me hug him tighter, made he reach up his hairy back and pull as much of him to me as I could. "I love you too, Big Daddy. Please remember that." Then we parted and moved away to get the things we would need for making sweet, manly love.
"I want you to let the covers down while I get out of this stuff," he said. I don't want anything between us, `cept maybe for my cockring. I need that to keep hard and give you a good ride, boy."
"Okay, Big Daddy." I almost sang the words gleefully.
"Now get into Big Daddy's favorite position."
I got on my back and placed my legs under my arms. "Like this, Big Daddy?" "Yeah, that's the one, boy." Big Daddy lay between my legs and I put my arms about his neck and wrapped my legs around his waist. He cupped my face in his hands and gently kissed me. Looking deeply into my eyes, he searched for permission, or perhaps a truth. Whatever the reason, he must have found it because he smiled and hugged me with the tightest, but most passionate, hug I had ever experienced, followed by the deepest and most sensual kiss he had ever given me.
We entwined in the passion of our longing as Big Daddy whispered aggressive proposals, mixed with gentle urgings, in my ear. My body tingled in his embraced as we rolled back and forth in a seemingly endless twist of kisses, embraces, and caresses.
"Raise you legs, boy, Big Daddy want to come in." I put my legs back under my arms, but stopped suddenly, "What about a con--" . I smiled comfort when I heard the familiar tear of the packet and helped him roll the condom onto the hardest cock I had ever seen him achieve. The shaft had grown as dark as the head and steady flow of precum had made its way down its length. And just as I thought he would roughly raise my hips and plunge in, he stretched out, belly down, held my butt up, and took my balls into his mouth. I gently stroked my cock in satin pleasure. A man of his size, his capable of his violence, exhibited such tenderness, mixed with strength, and thoughtfulness mixed with compassion. He remembered I liked my balls sucked, too. Oh God, did he remember. "Oooo, Big Daddy, it feels so good." Going from my cock to my balls, he sucked gently with added pressure as he watched my responses. I arched my back and closed my eyes to see comets approach from the distant darkness in my mind. "I know, boy. You thought I was just going to get my nut and leave you to get your own, didn't you?" He asked between sucks and slurps. "Well, I'm not that ungrateful bastard you knew before. Am I boy?" "Oh, no . . . no, Big Daddy." He sucked some more, then added, "Don't cum, now, `cause if you do, I'll have to get a strap to you." Then a wide grin stretched his face and he went back to work.
He flicked the hairs on my taint and blew kisses at my rosebud that began to contract and expand. I felt a slippery finger play with it as Big Daddy traced the folds of delicate flesh, first clockwise, then counterclockwise. And as he slowly pushed his finger farther in, he just as slowly retreated, causing me to lick my lips in ecstasy. "I'm getting your butt ready for my big white cock, boy. You like my big white cock, don't you?" "Yeah, I do, Big Daddy, I really do." "Tell me you want this big white cock, tell me boy." "I want your big white cock, Big Daddy; give it to me." "Not yet boy, I have some more work to do on your sweet little ass."
He played with my butt for what seems an eternity, making my cock jumped and lurched with every pass of his finger. I felt his thumbs play with my butt, slightly stretching and massing it, and causing me to relax and open with ease. "You're getting' there, boy. You're opening that hole for Big Daddy." Then I felt it: His wet tongue. It slathered my ass, flick back and forth over the folds, and turn my tight hole into a blossoming flower. I murmured, then grasped and released the bed linen to handle the excitement. It felt wonderful, gentle, and caring. He blew on my little rose, spit coolly on it, and sent shiver over my body. His efforts tingled, felt tender, and felt so soft that I had to ease my impending orgasm. His tongue came back to my balls and licked between each one, on up to my cock, and then moved to the head, where he slurped it into his mouth. "Your other daddy didn't know the passion in you, boy. I see you haven't had this type of treatment before, boy." "No, Big Daddy, not like this. Not . . . like . . . this." Big Daddy rose to reveal a rock hard and pulsing cock that jumped and lurched just as mine did. He moved to kneeling and raised my hips and legs so his shoulders were behind my knees. As he generously slicked his cock, he said, "I think you're ready for Big Daddy, boy. Are you ready? Do you want this fat cock in your tight little butt? Tell Big Daddy. Tell me you want my fat cock." "Yes, Big Daddy, I want your fat cock. Put your big white cock in me. Please. I need it in my tight little butt. Oh I want it so bad. Oh, please, I want it, Big Daddy." I braced for a searing pain, but what came was a slow press against my hole, then a retreat, and again a pressing--slowly, gently, and expertly. My hole yielded slowly but steadily. Big Daddy took his time guiding his big cock in me, and then slowly retreating until I could handle him comfortably in my eager ass. He stopped to make sure I had adjusted, all the while looking at me passionately and lovingly. "Is this how it's suppose to feel, Big Daddy?" I asked dreamily, as if floating in a warm pool, feeling the tuggings of his effort, the pressure of his labor. "I've never had it so slow and easy, so nice and sweet before. You make it so enjoyable." "It's your fantasy come true, huh boy? You needed to know that it can feel good without hurting, that it doesn't have to be rough and careless, and you needed to know how it feels with a caring daddy." Looking into his eyes, "Thank you, Big Daddy," I said, seeing his love for me. You really know how to make me feel . . . I love you, so Big Daddy. I really do." He slid in and out of me to the music of Robin Trower's In City Dreams, a rhythm similar to the motion of a lumbering elephant, a slow hypnotic rhythm, a lulling to soft joy. On filling me with all his hardness, he began to rock us to and fro; he lifted me off the bed in one smooth motion and rocked me, ever so slowly, in the cradle of his strong arms. We sat swaying like that, he on his hunches, me with legs over his strong arms, impaled on his bullish horn, moving to the music, swaying, gently in the half-light. He moved to edge of the bed and held me in his lap where I swam in his handsome glances and where he gave me kisses and nuzzled my neck. "I can feel you pulse inside of me, Big Daddy. I can feel your heart beat through your cock. It feels so good. Fill me up, Big Daddy. Give me all of your cock."
"You got it all boy. Does it feel good? Tell Big Daddy it feels good."
"It really does; you're so deep in me, filling me up. It feels so good, it feels so right."
Big Daddy's pace began to quicken; his breath came in short burst; but I didn't feel pain as he pushed faster and deeper into me. Lowering me back to the bed, he put my legs under my arms again (I truly was heels over head). I closed my eyes and could still see him pushing in and out of me as I gave myself to him. "You're just a hot fuckin' boy; you get Big Daddy so turned on."
"Pound my ass, Big Daddy; take me any way you want; cum for me, Big Daddy,"
"Yeah, boy, encourage Big Daddy. You know how to get me harder, boy. You know I like it when you talk to me."
As I talked to him, Big Daddy's motion alternated among different rhythms. Soon after, he grew faster, entering and withdrawing, and moving my legs out wider to go deeper and to give me longing kisses. I tingled all over and opened my ass even more. He grabbed my shoulders and pushed deeper, faster, and harder. I loved it: tender but aggressive, loving but manly--fucking as only a big hairy daddy could.
Big Daddy's passionate and loving expression had turned to a mixture of pleasured pain and resisted vulnerability. Then as his orgasm quaked to cresting, he tried to edge away and tried to make me cum first. Putting me first, thinking of his boy--my man was a true daddy.
"Cum with your Big Daddy, boy. I'm close...I don't want to leave you behind . . . cum with . . . me . . . Oh . . . God . . . I can't . . . I can't . . .I'm cumming, boy...I'm cumming, goddamn it!" Big Daddy released wave after wave of edge-inspired cum, filling the condom in side me with incredible cum spurts. And shortly after his orgasm pushed him further and further into me, my punch of ecstasy hit. Delicious, perfect, pleasure, a sweet hurt, and delicate anguish combined into a sudden impact just above my cock that gathered from my balls, made its way to my cock, and burst into my mind. I bucked and wretched out my own load while Big Daddy continued to shudder out his own. Splatters of cum, all over my body, evidenced the sudden volcanic [throes]. And as the last intense shudders passed (Big Daddy called them "twitters"), we sank into a sticky embrace and into glorious exhaustion. . For the first time in years, I felt a man had made love to me, that he wanted me to reach bliss with him and that I had a daddy who truly cared and loved me. If this afterglow wasn't love, it was the nearest thing to Perfect Knowledge I had experienced.
Big Daddy rose to one elbow, looked at me with the strangest expression, and then spoke affectionately, "I know what you thought when we came here," he said as he ran a heavy hand over my belly, "but I wanted to surprise you." He told me that he had listened to my bad experiences with my last daddy and wanted to show me that sex could involve perceived aggression, that it could be strapped in leather and metal, and that it could be whipped about and made messy; but even in all those shades, "sex without love was meaningless recreation or was the act of lost and troubled souls running from something." He spoke those words solemnly, earnestly, and in them, I heard the truth. I understood that love was the tie in all things. Most importantly, I understood that even though I was in my twenties and Big Daddy was in his fifties, it didn't matter. Love transcended the practical and silenced the judgmental. Big Daddy moved closer, almost nose-to-nose with me, and further explained, "You must know that I love you and you must know that I would never hurt you, so you must decided whether you can trust me." Then he kissed me softly on the lips and lay beside me. "I will learn to trust you, Big Daddy. I guess it will take time to get that other guy out of my head." Big Daddy said nothing and continued to rub my belly as we lay in silence and in love. We kissed and held each other some more, and I listened to his heartbeat as he dozed. Lying there, I remembered asking God for a passionate and considerate daddy--now I know he heard me.