Who's Your Daddy?

Before I dive right in and start talking about lots of taboo stuff, let me introduce myself: I’m a Midwestern, corn-fed, clean-cut, nerdy scientist. But – fuck! – sex fascinates me. I don’t mean that I like having sex (though I do), but I like thinking and learning and teaching about sex and the politics of the bedroom, or wherever else people might have orgasms. Exploration of people’s sexual boundaries is my secret agenda: “Would you ever… let your partner pee on you? … have sex with a transgender person? … watch other people have sex? … role-play in the sack? … participate in a sex-party? …” I think sexual behavior, desires, taboos, and fetishes are some of the best ways to understand people; as our most intimate thoughts and actions, sex can speak about our most basic moral, social, and philosophical principles.

But enough philosophical mumbo-jumbo. I’m here to talk about sex, about all the “dirtiest,” “naughtiest,” and most taboo, but to talk about it intelligently. (Disclaimer: read on at your own risk - NSFW.)

I’ll be writing about such varied topics as foot fetishes, anti-sex legislation, piss, cum, squelching and chastity - perhaps crudely, definitely bluntly, but hopefully provocatively. My ultimate goal is this: to share my thoughts about sex, sexuality, and why sex of almost any kind can be fascinating, wonderful, and a downright fucking good time. This won’t always involve personal sexual anecdotes, but today…

I am by no means old enough to have had children of my own, but the last time I had sex, my trick called me “Daddy.” I didn’t think much of it the first time; perhaps he had slipped and called me “Danny” in the throes of passion. The second time, it was unmistakable: “Yeah, Daddy!” Of course, I wasn’t about to let a little strange name-calling get in the way of a good fuck, and I’m just about as tolerant as they come when it comes to kinks, fetishes, and weird sex. So we kept at it.

After a few more moans and a few more minutes, he was apparently aware that being called “Daddy” didn’t freak me out… So he went to the next step in the kinky-name-ladder: he called me “Puppy.”

Instantly my mind snapped to an image of my hot, tan, 30-something trick with a raw steak on his back, getting fucked by a German shepherd. Not my idea of hot. But, hey, I was enjoying myself nonetheless, and there wasn’t really a quadruped humping his ass, so we kept at it. A little later, my hormones were in full force, something clicked in my brain (or cock) and I realized that I didn’t have to want to have sex with my father or a German shepherd to enjoy a little verbalization. The words themselves were a turn-on just because we “shouldn’t” be saying them. The act of rebellion was part of the excitement!

When we were finished and he had driven me home, I started thinking (as I tend to do, post-orgasm) about our experience. I realized I could react to it in two very different ways – and both had some validity. I could’ve reacted as I did: enjoy the rebellion, the rule-breaking, and the downright dirtiness of it. Or I could’ve taken offense that I’d been referred to as an animal, a dog: that I’d been, in a way, degraded. (Of course, humiliation, degradation, S/M, and related things will have to be addressed separately, because that’s just another bag of beans.) After all, what if he’d called me bitch or fag?

Here’s where it gets sticky, and where sex is really unique. Sex is about passion, pleasure, and a personal connection with the person(s) with whom you’re doing it. Sex opens doors to really offend people, but it also opens lots of doors to do things you’d never think to do outside of the bed. If that personal connection is such that you can call your partner-in-crime “Daddy” and not offend them, I say go for it! But there’s a level of sensitivity that’s required to be able to break into the realm of kink and potentially-offensive sexual behavior. It’s a pretty major faux pas to start calling the guy you’re fucking “pussy boy” or something if he’s not going to respond positively. And here’s where I think sex is unique: it’s the only arena in which it can be OK to use that kind of language, provided that all involved parties are on the same page. Under no other circumstances could I really justify using the phrase “pussy boy” or similar usually-offensive phrases.

Now, I’ve just opened a can of worms, I know: Am I really saying it’s OK to call your partner really offensive names? Am I really saying it’s all right to use those most taboo words: faggot, cunt, bitch, ho, etc.? Am I really saying it’s OK to let our principles about social equality, justice, peace, and fair treatment of individuals go to the wayside when we’re having sex?

Yes, yes, and no, I think. Just as we accept the theatrical value of those words in film or on stage, we can employ them effectively in the role-play of the bedroom. Actors don’t have to truly believe the words they use to evoke an emotional reaction; in the bedroom, one (or all) partner(s) can use words they don’t really mean to heighten the pleasure of the experience.

And after all my philosophizing, it turns out I WAS asking for it… I looked down at the shirt I’d been wearing. It said, “Hoosier Daddy?”

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