Many readers may be unaware that Stepdaddy's blog consists primarily of my "Dear Stepdaddy" advice column, a sort of hebephilic Ann Landers, if you will. Of course, these are all just fantasies, mine and my correspondents'. Here at year end, 2011, I am compiling this year's collection into the first of what I hope will be many "annuals". These have been edited lightly, and in particular some numbers have been corrected.
At the end of this work, please join me again to learn how you can contribute to and collaborate with the "Dear Stepdaddy" column, for the enjoyment of all.
Also note that where Stepdaddy lives in the U.S., "middle school" encompasses the seventh, eighth, and sometimes ninth grades. Students normally turn fourteen in the eighth grade.
January 29, 2011 – Dear Stepdaddy: Tattoo Hullabaloo
I've been modeling my life on your writings ever since my daughter turned fourteen. As you might imagine, my entire existence now revolves around my little princess!
Now the precocious eighth grader is begging me to sign a consent form so that she can get a tattoo. I know that tattoos are all the rage, but don't you think they'll go out of style soon, leaving my little Sweetpea regretting the choice? What should I do?
-- Wrapped Around Her Finger
I agree with you about this surprisingly long-lived fad: it has to end soon. Yes, it is very hot to see a young little teenie-bopper wearing a tattoo in a sexy location, but this has gone far enough. Not only do many eighth-graders sport them (yummy!), but so do a lot of eighth-graders' moms (yuck!).
I myself have been faced with this decision. My own daughter begged me to let her get a special tattoo, and her specific idea was certainly a rod-stiffener.
Sure, it would have looked totally cute at fourteen, but then I thought eight or ten years into the future. By then, my little cupcake will be all grown up, and in graduate school, if my hopes for her pan out. What if she realizes then that the favor of her faculty advisor is worth currying, and she arranges to allow the forty-year old lesbian to dine between her thighs upon her clean-shaven muffin?
The more I thought, meditated, and masturbated about it, the more I realized that this busybody feminist academic, admittedly mythical and yet so vivid in my minds' eye, might cause both my daughter and me all sorts of trouble.
Sure, she'd love the tattoo, and would probably go cross-eyed over the course of the semester, staring down the length of her own nose at it throughout her lengthy and talented cunnilingual sessions as she worshipped between my daughter's tender thighs. But as the semester approached its conclusion, and she imagined my little girl coming home to see me over the holiday, I figure the jealous old dyke would find some way to either blackmail my daughter or to get me indicted, just because of a cute, clit-crowning tattoo, inked in so many years before, reading: "Daddy's Cum Dump."
I suggest instead you make the compromise we did: piercings. It's hip, it's sexy, and ultimately, they're removable. And although you may be disappointed that you didn't get to permanently brand your daughter, you'll enjoy countless hours twisting her nipple rings, chewing on her clit ring, and spanking her ass on the pretext that her labial rings are just too fucking slutty. And, if your daughter ever goes to graduate school, the horny muff-diving "womyns studies" professor she enslaves will have no idea that it is you she has to thank for her good fortune.
I always say, "Better safe than sorry."
February 2, 2011 – Dear Stepdaddy: A Question of Semantics
Is it "hebephilia" or "ephebophilia"? I've seen both in written sources. Which is more correct, and which sounds better to you?
Either term may be used to describe the sexual attraction (usually of a male) to a pubescent or post-pubescent adolescent (usually a girl).
I think that the more correct term is "ephebophilia," but both are used in scientific articles on the subject. I prefer to use "hebephilia" because it is more pronounceable and it sounds better to me.
But what REALLY sounds better to me, of course, is a detailed description of a light dusting of silky-soft, emergent pubic hairs, sprouting adorably above a fourteen-or-fifteen year old cutie's puffy biscuit.
Pebbly little nipples atop lemon-sized titlets, which harden and stiffen at the most embarrassing times!
A thirsty, middle-school womb, eager to accept, absorb, and convert Stepdaddy sperm, in joyful combination with the very first (or at least a very early) fertile ovum ever to take an expectant trek down one or the other of her newly-relevant fallopian tunnels.
And perhaps later, as she rests from the bout, semen trickling out of her junior-miss hole, her training bra rubbing across the beard-stubble abrasions that redden her young mammaries a tad uncomfortably, she will pop her bubblegum, complain to her mentor that "school is SOOOO boring," and ask me to explain ONE MORE TIME about adding mixed fractions.
That's what really sounds good to me. Thanks for your letter.
February 4, 2011 – Dear Stepdaddy: A Panty Problem
My eighth grade softball practice was canceled (Go Bobcats!), so I was home from school early yesterday. As I walked up the stairs I heard someone talking in my bedroom. I knew Gramps was visiting us from up north to get away from the snow, so I figured it must have been him.
The door was open and when I peeked inside – OMG – Gramps was lying on my bed, all naked, with his thingee in his hand and he was pumping it up and down and my panties were all over him. He was holding one pair to his face -- eww! -- they were the ones I'd thrown in the laundry that morning! His accented voice came right through the crotch part of the undies: "Oy, dalink. Suck it dalink. Put your mouth on it and suck it. Oy, da panties. Da panties."
I was going to run away but I couldn't stop watching because I was wondering what it would be like to touch that stiff thing (and I was wondering what was with all the underwear, anyway?) and I even got that nice feeling in between my legs and I wanted to touch myself but I was afraid to. But when he made a lot of noise and the white stuff came dribbling out, I ran downstairs.
Gramps is going to be here for another week and I don't know what to do. I need some advice Stepdaddy.
-- Moist in Miami
First, you should know that what your Gramps is doing with your undies is completely understandable. I thank you for sending along a pair of your freshly-worn panties with this letter; if you wish to know how they were put to use, please see the Stepdaddy blog post "Ambrosia" of January 17, 2011, or read my poem "Laundry Day" from The Treasury of Stepdaddy Verse.
Your adorable little white panties, especially when scented (and flavored) by your own junior-high squishy bits, are an excellent accompaniment to a man's self-pleasure, be it mine or your Gramps'.
Now to the advice:
It is likely that your Gramps is already an avid reader of this column, so he may very well recognize the events in your letter and take the initiative himself. (Gramps, if you're reading this, you know what to do!)
Otherwise, you'll have to take things – and his "thingee" – into your own hands.
I suggest you put on a short skirt and white cotton undies, and leave the house as though you are walking to school. Hide somewhere nearby, so you can see when your parents have left for work (feel free to touch your special place through your panties while you wait – this will give you courage for what you must do next, and it will also make your "secret weapon" that much more irresistible).
Sneak back into the house and find him. No matter how he reacts when he first sees you, simply reach under your skirt, pull down and off your panties, and present them to your probably-speechless Gramps. Try to get them as close to his nose as possible right away. Then ask him: "Gramps, will you call the school and tell them I'll be sick at home today?"
That is what you should do to solve your dilemma.
February 5, 2011 – Dear Stepdaddy: Forms of Address
I'm an 18-year old college freshman girl and at this time an undeclared major. I'm just not sure what I want to do with my life.
So last November I met this cute guy at a Starbucks and we hit it off. He happens to be 42 yet we still really connected.
So lately during sex, he wants me to call him Daddy. I know he's old enough to be my dad but it just seems really weird. If I call him Daddy would I be betraying my real daddy? One of my gfs said my bf looks kind of like my daddy. I don't see it.
I'm just so confused. Do I just have cold feet and so I should go with my bf's idea in calling him Daddy during intercourse, or is this a sign that I should break up with him? Is there some other aspect of this I'm not thinking of?
--Bewildered in Baton Rogue
Candace, is that you? You know I gave the choice of either "Daddy" or "Sir!"
Just kidding Bewildered, I know you're not my Candace, as none of Stepdaddy's chicklets would ever be in your unfortunate situation – confused and neglected.
I can easily read between the lines and tell that you actually call this gentleman by his first name, not only in daily life but also during sex! Clearly, he is not a reader of Stepdaddy!
.... There is more of this story ...