Full Split (Forbidden Goals)

by Rebecca Rathe

"I like older men," he says, shrugging. "And I was just pointing out that it's your fault." “Why the hell would that be my fault?” “Because the only guys I want all have something in common with you. Don’t act like you’re surprised.”

Niles' grin widens. "Relax, Daddy. I'm not gonna climb into your lap or anything."

"I've kind of been in love with you for as long as I can remember. And I would one-hundred percent let you do terrible, awful things to me naked."

"Come on. We both know you're going to get up there and try something reckless now that he's here." He doesn't say who, but he doesn't have to. We both know who he means. And we both know he's right. I like showing off when he's in the room. Wyatt’s gaze on me makes me want to fly.

I swear everywhere he goes, men and women alike drop their panties and Wyatt, gorgeous oblivious Wyatt, picks them up and hands them back to them, like, "Oh, you dropped these," and then goes about his business as if he doesn’t notice the puddles he leaves behind.

off balance,

I've been crushing on him since before I was old enough to understand what a crush was.

Wyatt's been there for me since I was five years old.

Because there is no other option for me other than Wyatt Lincoln. He might not know it yet, but he is mine and I am his and no amount of embarrassment will deter me.

"Are you gonna eye-fuck my dad all day or do you want to get some work in? US Classics are in a couple weeks." I groan dramatically. "But he's sooooo hot."

Poor guy thinks I'm joking. I'm not.

I never hit the mat, because big, strong arms catch me. A sturdy chest absorbs my momentum, and I know by his smell who’s caught me before I process it fully.

I never considered I'd look at my son's best friend, a kid I've known since kindergarten tumbling class. That's the thing, though. He's not a kid.

He bends forward, his warm breath sending a shiver down my spine as he whispers against the back of my neck. "That was so hot."

I'm a target, win or lose. If I'm not at the top, I'm an example of how I can't compete with my fellow male athletes. If I'm on the podium, it's because I cheated. There is no winning with these people.

I think Sylvie's mom might have been my awakening." "That's fair," I say, stuffing the last half of my banana into my mouth as I take a stack of plates over to set the table. "I mean, since your dad was mine."

"What? West can reminisce about Susan Anderson's giant boobs, but I can't appreciate being hot for teacher? That's homophobic,"

"Or maybe you'd like me to call you… Daddy?"

"You're playing with fire," I rasp. "Then burn me,"

But how the actual fuck can someone consider themselves a true ally of the rainbow community without fully supporting the rights of transgender people?

THIS THIS THIS

there is no LGBTQ+ community without the T. What a fucking joke.

“Niles definitely has a type,” Weston says, shuddering dramatically. “What can I say, I have daddy issues,” Niles shrugs with a smirk.

“It’s hard though,” Niles says, with feigned exasperation. “I just can’t find the right Daddy to punish me and ruin my little boy pussy the way I need.”

"Do they have to shove their heterosexuality in my face like that? I mean, I respect and love them the way they are, but their choices make me uncomfortable."

"Are you really going on that date?" I ask, voice low and raspy. His eyes flash. "Why? Are you jealous?” I don’t answer. "You gonna do something about it? Give me a reason to stay in tonight?”

head in the game

“You agreed because you didn’t think I could do it?” I laugh. “I would never bet against you, Niles. The second you said it, I knew I was fucked.”

“I need to know.” “Know what?” “If you’ll like what you see.” “There’s nothing about you I wouldn’t like.”

the size and shape of his anatomy doesn’t matter. It’s not what makes him irresistible. It’s not what I want from him.

Everything from the pale skin of his inner thighs to the short curly hairs at the apex of his thighs, to the small dick hanging over the soft, wet, exposed flesh of his vulva, is causing my brain to rewire itself.

Don’t worry, doc. I have a tall, sexy, dirty blond hunk of Daddy to take out all my frustrations on.

I’m too tired to educate the willfully ignorant.

Rebecca Rathe is too relatable I fear

“Is it fair that transgender people make up less than two percent of the population, but this year alone, nearly a thousand bills have been introduced to strip them of basic rights?”

A-FUCKING-MEN

“Because trans people are people until they want to play sports…

“Do you know how many transgender gymnasts there are at the elite level?” Silence. “One. One person. One person who has already offered to share his testosterone levels, which are within a similar range to yours. But you’re so intimidated by him you’d rather talk shit than put in the work or admit he’s better than you.”

“Even just thinking about it still makes me feel like a thirteen-year-old having wet dreams,” I whisper, mortified. Niles bursts out laughing. “Want to know what I had wet dreams about when I was thirteen years old?”

“For the record. It was you. It was always you. Then and now, you’ve always been my dream.”

I want to drink his arousal, lick up his cum like a fucking cat, and make it happen again, over and over again, until I finally satiate this impossible thirst that’s been rising inside of me.

I don’t know what goes where or even how to ask. I just want to make him feel good, the way he does for me.

“If there ever comes a time you don’t want to do this, that this doesn’t come naturally or comfortably, it’s okay. I don’t ever want you to pretend with me. Okay?”

No one knows Niles’ body better than he does. How he wants to be touched, where he wants to be touched, what words to use… I’ll follow his lead.

I don’t want my attention to be what makes him feel validated. I want that to come from inside himself, because he deserves to see himself the way I see him.

What I absolutely don’t want, or need, is for you to pretend that I’m anything other than who and what I am. I’m a man with a pussy. And my dick is small, but I like to think I make up for it with my charming personality.”

“I like your dick. And your pussy. And your ass. And I’m looking forward to getting to know them all much, much better.”

The sweet tang of my new obsession explodes across my tastebuds, and I can feel all the systems of my body recalibrate themselves to make this man mine.

“Damn, man,” Weston complains sleepily. “Who the hell are you texting so late?” “Your dad,” I deadpan.

wrap around

I stripped him down, right there in the middle of their living room, stuffed his evil blue speedo in his mouth to muffle his screams in case the neighbors came to check on him, and sucked him until he squirted all over my face.

I’m standing in the entryway of my home, holding four massive bags that are all labeled, in bright, unmistakable lettering: Straps & Shenanigans Superstore. I wish I was kidding. And Weston, my son who is supposed to be forty-five minutes away at his girlfriend’s apartment, is on the couch.

I walk over to him and reach into the front of his pajama pants, grab his dick, and use it like a leash to guide him to his own bedroom.