BGE2013 features my story, “Missing Daddy”, which was originally printed in the anthology, Daddies. The guest editor this year, Paul Russell, describes my story as a “breathtaking foray into extreme sex”. And there is plenty of that. One of my main goals in writing “Missing Daddy” was to illustrate what it’s like for a bottom who is not a masochist to choose to take intense pain as part of his submission. You get to see that experience from the bottom’s point of view, hear how it feels and what he thinks about it, and hopefully get a glimpse of why he might choose that, what it means to him. When I’ve read it to a crowd of leather folks (and it is my most frequent choice for erotica readings), it gets rueful laughter from the crowd, as they recognize a common kink experience.
“Missing Daddy” is a nostalgia piece, from the POV of a now-top remembering his first Daddy. It was the first story I published that featured two trans characters in a relationship, and is one of the sweetest I’ve written. You can get a sense of that sweetness from early comments on the piece:
“Xan West’s wistful “Missing Daddy” is about learning and moving on.”–Richard Labonte, from the Introduction to Daddies
“The moody “Missing Daddy” by Xan West features a Daddy reflecting on an epic gangbang-in-the-park scene given to him by his own Daddy years ago, and relating to his own boys.”–T. R. Moss
“will surprise you with…underlying notes of trust and tenderness–and even salvation–sounding through the carnal cacaphony.” –Paul Russell, from the introduction to Best Gay Erotica 2013
In the story, the boy remembers how his Daddy made him feel, his connection to queer leather community, and an initiation scene that culminates in a gang bang in a famed cruising spot in SF: Golden Gate Park. Most of my stories have very particular settings; a specific time and cultural context.
I’ve been involved in the public leather scene for over a dozen years, and part of my goal is to document queer leather erotic landscapes, particularly the ones that have deep meaning for me. For me, public sex spaces are very meaningful, as spaces I have personally explored, and places of deep fantasy for me in the formation of my eroticism. I locate my stories in public parks and in bathrooms; characters meet in and travel through leather bars, events, and conferences. The place locates the story in time, too, as many of these events a places have limited life spans. Anyone who reads my work knows that much of the play and sex does not happen in a bed or at home, but in alleys and public dungeons, bathrooms and bars, in the range of public kink spaces that I have inhabited and jacked off to fantasies of.
The boy in the story also has a deep erotic connection to queer public sex spaces; he mimics me in that way. And he was lucky enough to get the kind of fantasy initiation he dreamed of, one he still remembers many years later.
Here is an excerpt. As a heads up, in contains descriptions of dominance and submission, public sex, orgasm control, and knife play:
Daddy shuffled me out of his apartment, and into the park below. It was dark, but I could hear murmuring voices, slurping sounds, low moans. He stuffed a ball gag into my mouth, wrapped his navy blue hanky around my eyes, and bent me over a nearby rock. I focused my hearing, trying to figure out what Daddy was going to do next. There was a loud click, and I jumped, knowing that his knife was out.
“Stay still, boy.”
It began cutting my jeans away. Just a chunk out of them, baring my asshole. And then I knew why Daddy ordered me into a jock earlier. His fingers were teasing my hole, sliding lube into me in fingerfuls. One, two, then three fingers in my ass, their squirmy possession riveting me to the spot as I got that almost nauseous feeling in the pit of my stomach that always begins an ass fuck. Daddy’s gravelly whisper carried to the men nearby.
“Who wants a piece of my boy’s ass? His mouth and cock are for me alone, but if you play nice, you can fuck his hole.”
I could hear the leaves rustle as the men moved in. How many? I heard voices murmuring as I writhed on Daddy’s fingers, but I couldn’t quite pick out the words. He slid his fingers out and leaned over me, his voice low in my ear.
“Don’t you dare cum, boy. Not until my dick is in your ass.”
(Note: the featured image for this post is of a gay cruising spot in a park that I found on a blog that has a number of these images.)