Page 2 of My Young Alpha Daddy

Sigh. Who am I kidding anyway?

There’s no way a younger guy like that would be into me anyway. At least, I think it’s probably a pretty low chance. But I can’t help the fact that I’m forty-two and carrying a few extra pounds.

Hey, it’s more cushion for the pushin’ and I think I look seriously cute.

It’s just these younger Daddies often seem to go for Littles who look like they live in the gym 24-7 and permanently live in a hardcore calorie deficit.

That’s definitely not me.

I love eating my candy, cakes, and anything that’s sugary and sweet.

I’ve always been comfortable with my identity as a Little, and the same thing goes for my body positive attitude to my appearance. I’m cute and cuddly and that’s just the way it is!

But what I’d also love is to find a young, strong Daddy Dom who would make me submit to his every wish and demand. You know, the kind of man who knows exactly what he wants and isn’t shy about demanding it too.

And if I was to ever cross the line or displease my young Daddy I would fully expect to be bent over and have my butt cheeks warmed by his hand, or a paddle, or… well anything flat and hard he could find.

Uh-oh, I think this new martini is kicking in…

But it’s not just sex and spanking that I want.

I could go to a club and find a man to paddle my butt or ram his cock in my mouth. What I’m craving more than anything is a Daddy who wants to look after me, nurture me, look after me when I need a cuddle.

I want a Daddy who actually wants the task of changing my diaper or giving me my creamy oat milk in a bottle at feeding time.

Where isthisDaddy?

And judging by the fact that Mr. Handsome across the aisle from me is now scrolling through photos of a woman in a tiny bikini on his cell phone I’m pretty damn certain it’s not going to be him!

Oh well. Another one bites the dust.

I think it’s time to sink this martini and hope it knocks me out and sends me into a long sleep. Travelling for business is fun, but right now all I want to do is get home and crash out.

‘Night night, Torben,’ I whisper, cuddling my all-time favorite stuffie and stroking his floppy doggy-ears. ‘Time to sleep until we land back in New York.’

It doesn’t take long before I feel myself slipping off into snooze-land.

But not before one last look at Mr. Handsome.

Hopefully in my dreams he’ll be a young Daddy looking for a cuddly older boy to meet his every last need…

‘Bleurgh,’ I say, shaking my head as I stumble into my apartment. ‘An hour delay on the runway. Great. Just my freakin’ luck.’

Yeah, so it turns out that there’s nothing worse than waking up from a martini-induced coma to the realization that you’re going to be stuck circling the airport for an hour and then face a further hour on the runway.

I’m not exactly great at waiting. But with my head feeling like it was going to explode at any second from what was actually my first ever hangover during a flight, it really wasn’t the best experience.

But I’m home now, and that’s something.

I really love my apartment too. I’m paid well for my work and have always had the attitude that you put your money into your home because that’s where you spend most of your time when you’re not in work.

So…

Two bedrooms. Two bathrooms. Polished wooden floors. High ceilings. Large open plan living space with a kitchen that came with a hefty price tag.

Oh, and I have the nicest views over the park.

I even paid for an interior designer to come and really give it some brilliant finishing touches. I’m not exactly a creative person so it felt right to put that trust into someone else’s hands.

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