Rex Parker Blogspot Novels & Stories

I’ve had the same guilty pleasure for almost three years now. His performer name is “Dominant Daddy Rex.” Early forties, tall, built like he spends half his life in the gym, salt-and-pepper hair always perfectly messy, deep voice that could melt steel. Every video is pure older-man fantasy: rough, possessive, filthy breeding talk that makes me come harder than anything else on the site. I’ve subscribed to his premium page since I turned eighteen, bought every PPV, left thirsty comments under a fake username he’s actually replied to a few times. Pathetic? Maybe. But nobody knows. It’s my secret escape.

Parker began to pace again. “Go home,” Carter said. “Go home and be with her. You are no good to me like this.” “What about my blog?” Parker asked with a sigh. “I feel like I haven’t written anything for weeks.” “You haven’t,” Carter said. “We’ve been posting the articles you wrote weeks ago and re-running some of your older stuff.” “Shit,” Parker said. “I need to write something.” “Do you think you can?” “What are my numbers like?”