Brand X

By Daddy X

It’s not like I planned it. I didn’t actually pick my pen name. It was given to me by the United States’ first legal dispensary for a certain medicinal herb. I’d go over during the holidays with my white beard and brown sack over my shoulder. They called me “Daddy Christmas”.

When I started writing erotica, it wasn’t such a leap to Daddy Xmas—name under which my first short story (An Undercover Christmas) was published by Naughty Nights Press in 2012. That also happened to be my very first submission. Hell, for a while there I was batting a thousand. Needless to say, that average has fallen off considerably.

It all sort of fell into place. “X” denoting what it does.

But how to tie that history up into a neat ‘brand’? My stories are mostly hetro, but perhaps not what one has seen before. They’re hard to predict. I tend to rely on systems of values that may not have been explored before. For the most part, you wouldn’t want to take my characters home for dinner.

It seems that I can’t even predict or plan a type of story. I’ve never done an outline. Hell, my unruly characters seldom comply with any plans I make for them. How could I predict a way of writing when I often sit down at the computer with nothing but a first line, hoping that line will evolve into something more substantial.

I still think Brand X has a future. It has a certain ring to it, don’tcha think?

For the time being, here’s another take on a brand. And branding.

                                      

 Falling for His First… The Reality © 2015 Daddy X

What an initiation it turned out to be.

I was reveling in my first piece of ass. Taking the wanton girl on all fours from behind.  Deeper and deeper I dug into her splayed-open cunt. If not every woman could provide such pleasure, what would my life become? 

She lowered her torso, tipped her ass up a notch. “Fuck me harder,” she gasped.

What to make of the tattoo? “Property of Hell’s Angels,” it read in blurred Olde English, her twitchy rear end flipping around in tight little circles. As I slid in and out of her depths, I realized this girl must rock the world’s sweetest pussy. Could I ever be satisfied with anybody else?

And how much more wonderful than masturbating alone. The wet, wild grasp of her slick cunt felt like heaven almighty had arrived on earth. How wonderful to finally share. Closer and closer approached my release. Would I be the cliché who fell in love with his first fuck?

Then one of the others shoved me aside. “My turn,” he said.

You’d think a new member would be allowed to finish before the rest would have her.