By Drew

I have never enjoyed sex, a fact that really bothers me. A lot; It’s all anyone ever seems to talk about.

I was having a conversation with our editor and we somehow got onto a stream of conversation that involved the idea of me having a kooky, specific fetish; a lot of people find sex boring until they discover their niche. Maybe one day something’s just gonna click and I’ll discover my suppressed desire for pissing on ageing rodeo clowns doing aqua aerobics.

Ah, the dream.

So, to speed up the process, I’m going me to dive crotch first in to some classic sex scenarios and pray for the best. Welcome to Drew’s Find my fetish…

My first pick was Daddy role play. It’s a no-brainer: I love dad jokes, and I like getting paid for doing very little. The correct term for this kinda fetish is ‘Ageplay’ – It’s a submissive/dominant exchange with the authoritative, latex-y edge replaced by a strong paternal figure and some pocket money.

I changed my Grindr description to DADDY and put my name as $$$. I avoided long distances and large amounts of money.

I had a guy offer me a grand to wear some speedos and give him a back rub. If my (real) dad taught me one thing, it’s that if it’s too good to be true, it probably is.

I settled for a nice man, a ten minute walk away, around 60: all grey with a spectacular beer gut. I liked the idea of being called beautiful by someone who definitely appreciates the company of a younger, skinnier person, which is narcissistic, I’ll admit, but true: I like it when people call me hot. And, in his twilight years, I’m probably the prettiest man he’s gonna get.

He offered me a hundred bucks to come over and fool around once a week. All I had to do was let him shave my entire body (sans head hair and eyebrows) and… I had to try my darnedest to look like Justin Bieber. Easy money.

I knocked on his door. We said hello. It was a little bit awkward.

There were certainly some jitters as I put myself into this strange new territory. Like a school-kid looking at porn for the first time, I was nervous. It was more than a little risqué. I let him take off my clothes – something that wasn’t too simple when I was dressed as the Biebs, circa 2010. Unlacing high tops is a bitch and my jeans were very tight.

We had to peel them off like a gimp suit.

When we kissed he tasted like toothpaste. I liked that. It was considerate and it showed he was a little nervous, too.

I got down to my Star Wars briefs – some fun through the polyester, some fun under it.

Wow. Old guys give good head.

He took me to the shower. I kinda enjoyed getting shaved, to be honest. It’d be hard not to enjoy: I had a guy’s hands running over me and warm water running down my neck.

Then the verbal age-play reared its head and things got weird. Calling a man who is definitely not my father “Daddy” is very, very unsettling. The more the situation progressed the more I was reminded of actual dad situations when I was a kid, and those are some normal non-sexual kid moments that I DO NOT WANT to have weird sex things attached to.

Every time I’d get turned on he’d ask how his little boy is feeling and I’d have to respond.

Bam, goodbye good vibes.

It left me in this fucked up state of wanting to fuck and wanting to cringe. I was in daddy limbo, sticking to his vinyl shower curtains. The sooner I could jizz and take my money the brighter I’d feel about my quick hundred bucks.

As soon as I was completely hairless I was led towards the bedroom and pat down. More parental feelings. Bad parental feelings.

The fellow would just call me his little boy again and man, and it felt strangely formal… I expected sex work to be something extreme; either Pretty Woman or Breaking Bad. But it was neither. Just business. Like a Coles self-service for two. I was a human cash register awaiting his sticky, monetary lode. Cha-ching.

I couldn’t deal. Getting fucked by this dude would’ve been too much. I just rolled the man over and screwed ‘til it was time to put my pants back on. I read the titles of the books on his shelf as I fucked him. Nothing interesting, just engineering and economics. Sometimes he’d try to inject some more age-play into the moment, but it just didn’t work. I wasn’t a baby.

I came, he came.

He asked me to stay. I took his money and left.

Getting a daddy was a terrible idea.

Two out of five stars.

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