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“Tell me what’s wrong,” he ordered.

“What if you think I’m some kind of weirdo?” I mean, he was the one who brought it up to me, so he probably didn’t think that, but the fear and concern in the worry didn’t just vanish because something seemed logical.

“How about we just look at them before we decide if someone’s a weirdo? By the way, it’s perfectly normal to be interested in things that other people maybe aren’t. As long as no one’s getting hurt, then it’s all good.”

“I’m not sure I like it when you’re logical,” I groused.

Daddy B plucked my list from my hand and began reading it. He gave me his own so I could go over it while he looked at mine. After a few minutes, Daddy B said, “Where’s the weird stuff? Because it’s not on this paper.”

“Daddy, you don’t think any of the stuff is weird?”

“Nope, not at all. The whole point of wanting to be a Daddy is so I can be a Daddy. Since that’s the point, why would I put anything in the way of that?”

Daddy B returned to reading my list and jotting things down.

What was he taking notes on? After a solid ten minutes, he put the list away and made more notes.

Was I supposed to make notes? ’Cause I hadn’t.

What I had done was read through his list, and we were compatible enough.

I was surprised by one of the items on his hard no list.

“Can I ask a question about your hard limit list?”

“Sure.” Daddy B stopped his reading and gave me his undivided attention

“Why no impact play?”

Daddy looked like he was gathering his thoughts before answering. I sat quietly and waited because it was clearly something important to him, and I didn’t want to rush him.

“I told you I’ve never done this besides those few times at the club, which means I have no experience.

Honestly, I’m a lot bigger than you, and I’m used to banging around guys on the ice.

The last thing I want to do is hurt you, and since I have no experience and I’m used to being more physical, my fear is that I might accidentally. ”

“Is that the only reason?”

“No, there’s a selfish one too.”

“What is it?”

“There is no damn way I’ll get the job I’ve been dreaming about since I was in junior high if there’s a mishap. If something were to happen to you, I would be accountable for that, and I should be. Maybe it’s pretty far-fetched, but I don’t feel comfortable with that until I’m more experienced.”

“Wouldn’t you typically get experience practicing on other people?” I knew I sounded meek when I asked the question.

“Yeah, there’s a club here in town, but I don’t wanna practice on anyone else.

” Daddy B leaned forward and softly kissed my lips.

His tongue parted my lips and slipped inside my mouth.

Whatever disappointment I’d felt was erased when his tongue stroked my own.

Just when I thought I’d melt into a puddle of goo right here on the couch, he drew back.

We smiled at each other like dorks before I forced myself to break eye contact and return to the list in my hands.

I was surprised that Daddy B said wetting wasn’t a dealbreaker.

I was thrilled when I noticed orgasm control made the list. My fantasies about him usually revolved around him taking total control of my orgasms.

I’d discovered age regression the summer after I graduated from high school, and I’d spent years thinking about my perfect Daddy.

The one consistency was that my future Daddy was hands-on in his caretaking.

I was sure my childhood trauma from being abandoned by my mother and essentially ignored by my dad played into it.

I didn’t have any money for therapy, but I could play with stuffies and color, and that was good enough.

Either way, I liked it and wanted it. And maybe it had nothing to do with anything, except it was the way I was wired.

“There are some rules I want to put in place.” Daddy B waited for me to nod in agreement before he continued, “Rule one is that safe words are always on the table. Always.”

“Easy yes. My safeword is gonna be zucchini.”

“Zucchini? What they ever do to you?” Daddy B smirked at my disgusted expression. They were so gross and you could absolutely, positively taste it in the bread. Even the chocolate kind.

“Alright, moving on. Rule two is you have to use your words.” I was mute on this one. “Sorry, kiddo, this is a nonnegotiable. What I don’t know, I can’t fix.”

“Fine.” No response besides a raised eyebrow that spoke volumes. “Yes, Daddy B.” At my agreement, he ruffled my hair and then cupped my cheek.

“Good boy.” I puffed up at his words and my dick chubbed up too. “Rule number three is you have to try to stick to the schedule. I know life happens, but I need you to try.”

“I’ll try real hard, Daddy.”

“I know you will, baby. Rule four is no coming without telling me before it happens.” I eagerly nodded.

“And I might tell you no.” I nodded significantly less eagerly.

“Looks like one part of you is up for that rule.” Daddy B glanced down and smirked at the bulge in my pants.

“Sexy boy, we can’t do anything about that just yet. ”

“Daaaaaady.”

“Last one. Number five is that you have to be as kind to yourself as you are to your stuffies.” As Daddy B spoke, he snagged my hand and entwined our fingers. “I know you take good care of them, and I want you to take good care of yourself too.”