CHAPTER EIGHT
It was a relationship of sips and shots and I'm not saying that it was a relationship that took root just because I had had a lot to drink. I mean that it was a relationship where we would need to steal time together in sips and shots where we would get to know one another, to have a conversation or to have some intimate time together.
Intimate time was important for both of us, but there were plenty of conversations that we needed to have to.
We talked about Sammy a little bit and how they had both been involved in the age play community. Although this was news to me, I wasn't surprised that Sammy was involved in such a community.
When I asked if they had been intimate with one another, they both told me they hadn't.
"How did she know where you lived then?" I asked Daddy one day and he just smiled.
"We have to meet somewhere, and when girls are dressing up like age players do, it would draw too much attention in the pub." He told me.
I knew his words were true as he had shown me pictures of the way babygirls dressed. Often they would wear onesies in adult sizes and diapers (also in adult sizes).
Although this would weird a lot of people out, it didn't bother me in the least. Daddy didn't want me to wear a diaper, it wasn't his thing. Daddy also didn't want me to do anything I wasn't comfortable with.
Between my own research, things Daddy would tell me and time spent together I quickly found the things that we both liked and thing we both needed.
Orgasms were what I loved, and Daddy, unlike other men, had no trouble giving them to me.
Daddy's wants and needs were a bit more complicated, but were nothing I was uncomfortable exploring myself.
At the heart of it, Daddy just liked being Daddy. He liked being the carer, giving love and looking after me. Although he did like younger women, hence the woman I had seen him with that first night at the pub, he also liked women his own age.
As things grew between us too, I did ask about other girls. Apparently Daddy wasn't seeing anyone else. He was a one woman man, besides, he was pretty busy with work and he was aware of his own fetish interests potentially being difficult for others to deal with.
His interests, though, didn't feel that weird. He only wanted to take care of me and to be called Daddy. Sometimes, if I wanted to, I could wear pretty girly clothes and do colouring, but I didn't have to. I didn't have to do anything at all. He liked me for me.
The more we dated though, the more we fell into a pattern. The pattern of sips and shots.
I would take sips of Daddy in the daylight hours at university then I would take shots in private in his own home or in various places around Galway where we would meet - and hope that we didn't run into anyone who would report our relationship or the things we were doing all over Galway.
Our relationship was growing quickly. After only two weeks we both knew it wasn't just a bit of fun on the side. We both knew this was something. But how to navigate that when we already weren't supposed to be doing what we were doing? What would we do when I went home?
The thought of leaving him was hard to bare, then something happened that made me not want to go home ever again.
I had finally gotten onto my university about changing my major and they had agreed to have a phone conversation about the change. The representative said she had a bunch of questions for me and that she needed to know some things before she even considered changing my major for me.
It annoyed me that it was my education and that I was paying for it but that there were these gate keepers. I did as they insisted on anyway. We agreed on a time for the phone call and spoke on the phone.
The conversation was obviously one of the woman on the other end ticking boxes and making sure everything she needed to know was answered. I didn't like operating from a script, but if this was what she was doing I was cool with that.
"Why do you want to change major?" She asked me in the monotone voice of someone reading the question rather than really asking it.
"I want to change because during my semester abroad I have found a new passion for creative writing." I told her.
"And you're aware that changing your major now could impact your law career, as you stated you were perusing in your college application?" She asked.
The question annoyed me even more than the first one had. "Yes, I am aware. I am allowed to have a career change too."
The eye roll down the line was audible. I decided to ignore it though and kept my cool. This situation was infuriating me by now and I simply wanted it to be over.
Several more questions were asked before the woman told me she would need to take everything I had told her into consideration, in addition to what she already had there on my file before making a decision.
"How long should that take?" I asked, even though I was sure she had already decided to not let me change my major.
There was the sound of the woman clearing her throat down the line before she told me, "At least a month. Maybe two."
"Seriously?" I asked, "But I need to know now."
"Why do you need to know now?" She asked, her voice telling me that she thought my response was as stupid as she had thought my previous responses to her questions were.
"Because, then I can plan." I told her, trying to keep the 'dah' tone out of my voice as I was already tired of talking to this person.
There was silence down the phone before the woman asked me, "Plan what? You will either study law as you were admitted to study it or your major will be changed and you can study creative writing. Either way you are still a student at our school."
"Okay." I relented. "Sure."
"So that was everything?" She asked.
"It's going to have to be." I told her.
"Good. Goodbye for now then." She told me before hanging up the call.
After the phone call, I had a bunch of questions for myself which I needed answered. I knew I hadn't been talking about planning my education back home in America when I had spoken to her, I was referring to a different kind of planning. A kind of planning I had been ignoring until then.
I wanted to stay here where I was happy and comfortable. I had been so unhappy in the states. I was studying something I wasn't interested in, I didn't have very many friends, my family put pressure onto me to perform.
And, as silly as it was to admit, I was falling pretty hard for this professor. If I went home now, I wouldn't find another guy quite like this.
I normally considered myself to be pretty open minded, although the daddy stuff had thrown me in the beginning, I had kept going with it because it made him happy. Then after a while, it had started to turn me on too, and also to just make sense in our relationship.
When you're happy, and comfortable, you don't really want to move across oceans. When you're happy and comfortable you don't really want to have to deal with a lot of uncomfortable things that make you unhappy anymore. If I was honest, there were plenty of things that used to make me feel uncomfortable, only I hadn't realised it until I was finally in a relationship that made me happy.
So I left it with my college back home. I simply ignored the whole thing for as long as I could.
Which only wound up being about two days.
Then I got an email telling me I couldn't change my major. I would need to return to the US and be a lawyer still, only, it wasn't what I wanted in life. I still wasn't being completely honest with myself about what I did want though, but it wasn't this.