Stories | 2016

This is how we met (again). An intimate cocktail-party fundraiser for a hometown historical society. Jack spied her from across the room. Tall. Very tall. Shoulder length red hair, freckled face (in fact, freckles everywhere). Fit. Trim. She wore flowing black pants, open toe black, classic heels and a black long sleeve top with a meshy see-through V that exposed just enough of her B-cup cleavage. She looked elegant, sophisticated and dressed sexy as hell. About 28 or 30 years old. Jack would later say she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Several years ago I was in a relationship with an interesting Daddy/young woman power dynamic. She was fifteen years younger, 5' 5", nice curves, pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes, and very kissable full lips.

Yes, it was all consensual, safe, and sane.

“You can’t do that Daddy.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because it’s against the rules,” she answered.

“Really? I don’t remember making that rule.”

“No, silly, I made that rule.” She rolled over, straddled me. "I’m the boss, and I make the rules