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This was something I could do – and did – for him, that I felt he needed from me more than mere sex. Eventually, when it was completed, it took me a further three months to catalogue all the artwork in the house – some 500+ pieces. It took me about three years of learning programming languages such as Java and PHP and database systems such as SQLite and MySQL. When he found out that I had taught computing in the UK, he asked me to build him a content management system that would be used to catalogue and manage his art. The Wedding: Nagrom, Medicine Woman, and me, flanked by one guest each on either side. He had a very high sex drive, and I was not going to fulfil that for him. He, of course, could do whatever he wanted. Throughout our entire relationship, I was his monogamous and celibate muscle daddy. I decided to myself that he would never get another opportunity to do that to me again. When I confronted him about it, his response was: “It is what it is.” Shortly after the wedding night, I found myself with chlamydia. He had spent half a lifetime looking for a Daddy, he said, and he had found one with “muscles all over his body”.įast-forward to 2014, and I returned from the UK where I lived all this time to marry him in a ceremony officiated over by an Apache medicine woman and elder, who is also a world-renowned artist and a former International Ms Leather. “Daddy! Daddy! Today I claim you as my Muscle Daddy!” The first words that came out of his mouth were (I am paraphrasing now): There was a knock on the door, and who should walk into the room? The older black Daddy from the foyer. He picked up the phone and ordered pizza. But I was too tired and hungry to get in the mood. He wanted a muscle daddy, and I tried to get into the spirit of things. Anything was better than being stuck in the lobby. In any case, around 5pm, a guy came up to me and invited me to his room for play. I would also have known that I was in the wrong hotel! Had I checked my emails before setting out from Boston, I would have found out that his car had broken down. Since I had no phone, there was no way he could call me back. I was grateful for the gesture and called the number, but it went straight to voicemail. “Would you like to call him?” he said, handing me his phone. There I noticed an older Black Daddy with a stylish walking stick and a group of slaves and boys following him around.
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I had been hanging about in the foyer of the host hotel all this time.