You’d intrigued me in so many ways for so many months. You’d think if I’d waited that long, I could have waited just a bit longer until our first date. Perhaps it was knowing you were buzzed. Perhaps it was knowing you’d been out with someone else earlier. Perhaps it was a desire to set the tone for our first dinner. But most likely it was you texting me that you had just crawled into bed with your Hitachi, vibrator, and teddy bear. The teddy bear you grind against to cum harder than anything or anyone can make you. The teddy bear who has been your most special companion since childhood and who you discovered at age 16 was more than just something to cuddle. The teddy bear that, ever since that sweet, sweet 16, has been the toy that never needs an external power source to turn you on. Yes, it was Teddy that ensured I would call and talk you through my descriptive mind as you ground your pussy against its plush fur.

And so we begin the phone role play, first as daddy, watching you from the doorway as you molest your stuffie between your thighs. Approaching mid-climax to run my finger through your slit and simultaneously press you down harder onto its muzzle. Allowing your next release only as I shove my cock in your throat to pacify your screams of ecstasy such that mommy cannot hear. Then shifting you to daddy’s lap, for needed discipline on your bare bottom for touching your private places. Now grinding against daddy’s head, rather than teddy’s. Your next gush so enveloping my cock you must clean it before I return the favor of lapping you into a drinkable squirt, to which I have no choice but to refill you with fluid from my cock pumped deep within you.

Hearing how hard you cum from my descriptive oratory increases my own masturbation. Sensing your vulnerability at cumming for me before we even meet, I tell you how I too learned to masturbate by grinding; and still masturbate like that to this day. As I go on to describe my own journey of self-discovery from the age of 16, and nightly play since then, your comfort with me becomes real. Your breath changes, your moans deepen, your gasps intensify, and suddenly it’s as if you were with me in more than a telephonic connection. I intuit your drift to subspace. I feel your need for tenderness. I know the words you crave. I empathize the longing emotion you outwardly reflect for protection. You listen as I say:

“I’ve got you; I’ve got you; I’ve got you; I’ve got you. Release. Release everything. Everything you’ve held back. You are safe. I've got you." 

And I do, and you do too. A cathartic tidal wave of orgasmic squirt, wetting everything beneath you. Palpable emotion, from letting me in, present in every breath. One wave crashes as the next crescendos. Like a surfer's perfect set, your cries become a harmonious rhythm with your most intimate self. It seems as though it may never end, and we both wonder if it should. But the tide does subside, just enough, for breath and pause. Intensity so good that any words become superfluous. Silence demonstrates our mutual understanding and respect for what just happened. Unspoken, but known as clearly as if it was, you willingly give yourself to me and the arc of my power and protection before we’ve even met.

I will kiss you hard when I first see you Monday night. There need be no tension after this. At the table, I will grasp your two hands in my one. You will order your whiskey and coke. And as your eyes return to mine my other hand will slip underneath the table and underneath your skirt. “I’ve got you," I will say. I will masturbate you there and make you cum then. Taking my first taste of you off my finger as the waitress returns with your drink. Dinner from there will be a blur; a blissful blur. But it’s after dinner that the most important introduction of our first meeting must take place. We are eating near your house for a reason after all. And so we shall finish where we began, as your new Daddy meets your old Teddy.