CALL OF THE DAY: “look at my tee-tee, Mommy!”
We only talk every two or three months, when he’s on a business trip and staying in a hotel. I would love to see the face of the hotel staff member who walks by his room right when he’s getting really ramped up, because he’s a mommyfucker on the very young end; I would place him at 2 years old, based on the pitch of his “play voice” and the vocabulary he uses. He tells me, in a very petulant tone, what he wants to do (“mommy, I wanna look at your butthole!”); I can almost hear him stomp his feet if I don’t respond the right way. He also likes me to baby-talk to him about his dick (“mommy, look at my tee-tee!” “I know, baby, you’re having so much fun with your ding dong, aren’t you?”).
When I first started talking to him, I actually felt challenged, because he never followed through with any particular train of thought. It felt like he was just blipping around, poking at different body parts, saying things because he liked the way they sounded, demanding things to assert himself, not because he was particularly attracted to them. That irritated me, until the day I realized that ACTUALLY the way he was behaving was a pretty good portrayal of a two-year-old, whether he was being intentional about it or not. So I thought I’d try just interacting with him as if he is really two years old, and that seems to work out just fine.
I think I’ve written about him before, because he is such a joy to play with, laughing unselfconsciously after every call and thanking me so warmly for what I do. I guess that’s what let me feel comfortable enough one day, during our post-orgasm cool-down, to ask him, outright: have you always had this fantasy of being such a little boy? “Always. I had a very strange childhood. I didn’t get a lot of unconditional love. So now, you know, it’s just so wonderful to go to a place where it doesn’t matter what I do or what I want, I can have it.”
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