Falling for Dad's Slut Ch. 01

Many thanks to neuroparenthetical and KialaAzules, who edited this story.

In this story the penalty for promiscuity is bearable, if not trivial. STDs are not a thing, random violence is not a thing, being shunned on debauchery is not a thing. Privacy is not a thing either, with public and private recordings, including those of sexual nature, are widely and freely disseminated.

This story is a work of fiction, not an opinion piece. It is meant to be entertaining, not informative.

It's a day like many others. I have been working on one of my pet engineering projects for a few hours, when I decide to take a break. Or even taking the rest of the day off. I freeze my current experiment and leave the laboratory, locking the doors behind me.

I don't yet know what I'm going to do, but starting with a stop on the grand east terrace appeals to me. The view from it is great. On both sides there are mountains covered by thick, lush forest. In front and below lies the city: tightly packed and low rise, it covers the flat plane as far as the eyes can see. The emergent monotony is frequently broken by singular towers or groups of skyscrapers that give away the locations of the train stations.

The way to the terrace takes me through a wide, tall, richly decorated corridor. Its walls are covered in hardwood and colored marble. Similar passages spread left and right. At the far end, they open over green mountain sides.

The place belongs to my father, Rodrigo. He's the really rich guy. I only have a couple of small apartments to my name, both bought with Rodrigo's money. Too small and inconveniently located, they can only serve as places of leisure. My work I'm doing back at the old place, this sprawling mansion atop a hill north of the city, the same place where I grew up -- my father's residence.

Palace. That would be a better word for it. I told you Rodrigo is really rich.

He often scolds me for spending so much time immersed in my engineering projects. But back when he was my age, he was just like me. Now, when he's not running his business empire, it's all partying and fucking. I reckon he has sex with several new hapless creatures every week.

Me and him, we're not the same. Though he's my father, there's no physical resemblance between us. He's a large, handsome man. Round face, light brown skin, curly hair cut short. Pencil beard running the jaw edge. Even if he did not have all that money, girls would be all over him. He's the epitome of the daddy type: calm, assured, very strong, protective. Gym goer.

I, on the other hand, am pretty average. I'm taller than most guys, but not really tall, reasonably good looking, but not a heart throb.

It's not the comparison with my father that fills my head as I walk the hallways. Rather, I'm trying to push out all the work related thoughts that have occupied my mind since early morning and figure out what I'll do with the rest of my day.

There's a girl, a young woman, in the house. I see her crossing my path on one of the lateral passageways, not twenty paces in front of me. She wears a short white dress. A thing Rodrigo lost, for sure. I follow her.

Her outfit is completed by green fishnet stockings and white pumps. She's tall for a girl. Her hair is shoulder length and dyed an uncertain reddish orange color. Vermillion, maybe. She seems unsure and somewhat awkward in this place. In her somewhat sluttish outfit, she looks like a dumb bimbo, like many of Rodrigo's liaisons do. That's uncharitable, I know. And if she looks hesitant, it is because she's exploring on her own a big place she's not familiar with.

"Hello, little girl!" I call out from behind her.

She turns around and she looks like she's about to tumble.

"Are you lost?" That sounded meaner than I meant. Maybe Rodrigo is right after all, I should go out more. My social skills, especially around girls, are lacking. But in truth, I enjoy being mean with his tarty dates.

"Umh, no, Sir."

"What are you doing, then?"

"Just seeing the house. Rodrigo says it's okay."

"You're his?"

From two paces away, I can appraise her better. She's cute. Her face is round and wide. Her mouth is large and mobile. I always liked girls like that. Another thing -- she is not a girl. That's not a shock, just not a lane Rodrigo goes down often.

"Yes... I suppose."

She bites her lower lip. That's the last time I call the boy she.

"You're pretty," I offer and I'm not just saying it. He really is pretty.

"It's the poor light."

He's cheeky. I like it.

"I guess you're right. It is a bit dark in here."

I can see him well enough to realize that he does not try to pass as a woman. And that, on his high heels, he's as tall as me.

"Have we met before?" I ask him. "I don't remember seeing you around."

"We haven't met."

"Have you known Rodrigo for a long time?"

"Two, three months."

That's a surprise, and maybe it shows on my face. Rodrigo's interest doesn't usually last that long.

"It's an on and off thing, Sir," she explains further.

"Oh. How does that work?"

"He picks me up when he wants to fuck me."

I open my mouth to say something, but don't find words. This girl forwardness is unexpected. A real girl would not say such a thing. A boy, maybe.

"Well, then, how about I show you around?"

"Sure, sounds good. You're very kind."

"Have you seen the Ancestors' Hall?"

"Umh... no?"

"It's all busts and portraits. It's one floor up."

"I'd remember it."

"Come. You'll like it."

The space itself it's not the worst, with columns, rich ceiling decorations and all the makings of a kitschy art museum. It surely impresses many visitors. But the real reason I want to take her there is that it has plenty of natural lighting, which will let me have a better look at her.

Once we are there, she, the boy I mean, doesn't seem that impressed though.

"Are these Rodrigo's ancestors?"

"They are, indeed. The guy over there... let's walk closer." I take her to the natural size painting of a distinguished gentleman. "He's Rodrigo's father."

And moving several steps to the right, to a marble bust sitting on a pedestal: "And here, the paternal grandfather."

She nods.

I take her on a grand tour, giving her time before each exhibited piece. All the while, I examine her. She doesn't look bad. For a boy, that is. No credible breasts -- the small, hard bra apparent under the dress is likely empty, but he has a rather feminine body and face. His figure is clean, with no visible facial hair. His lips are full, his eyebrows thin. His hands are manicured, and if not for their size, would be girlish. His chest is narrow, as is his waist.

He wears large decorative earrings, discreet makeup, a lacy blue choker.

His dress leaves the shoulders and the upper chest exposed. I surprise myself trying to peer excitedly down its cleavage. I've never done that before -- trying to get a glimpse of a boy's chest, that is. What could I possibly see? There's probably nothing there. Yet even the sight of a boyish flat chest and small nipples would make my day. Alas, I get to see nothing -- the dress and the bra cover the area completely.

"How do you like this place? The house, I mean," I ask her.

"It's big, Sir."

I smile. She can't be so naive. Has she not seen such places before?

"And stop calling me sir. I'm probably younger than you."

She nods.

"How old are you, anyway?" I ask.

"Twenty-three. Or maybe four. I can't be twenty-five unless I've missed counting a year."

"See, I was right. I'm the younger one. I'm only twenty-one."

She has no answer.

"I'll tell you a secret," I say.

"Go on."

"None of these" I point around to paintings and statues "are related to Rodrigo. It's all a hoax."

The boy stares blandly. Then he nods.

It's true. Rodrigo is a self made man. His parents were nobodies. It's no big secret either, anybody who cares to know finds out this easily enough. Still, he shows this hall to many of his visitors, dignitaries and businessmen alike. And their respect for Rodrigo grows -- even if they know, and they know. No matter, they feel good, they feel they are playing in the big league, they feel they are rubbing elbows with a genuine dynasty. It's how the power works -- all pretense and appearances.

"I should find Rodrigo," she says. "We were meant to go to the... to someplace today. He had to make some quick calls and let me wander around until he finishes."

I nod and lead her away from the hall.

With only one last turn to the grand terrace where I expect we'll find Rodrigo I stop her. I like her. I don't know what I'll say, but I need to say something -- anything. Her mouth looks tasty. Her narrow waist invites holding. I want her.

"I want to make out with you."

She looks at me, smiling. "Men want to fuck me, customarily."

Her straight talk throws me off. There can be no doubt now she's something of a slut.

"Can we go now?" she says.

I nod, and I lead her outside. Rodrigo is already there, surveilling the city below from our privileged vantage point.

He sees us when we're near, and turns to greet us. "There you were. I see you two have met already."

Tall, barrel chested, in his loose slacks and silk shirt, he must be every little girl's dream man.

"I found your lost possession wandering around."

"Now, now. Have you two got acquainted?"

I look at the girl/boy and shake my head.

"Stella, this is my son, Evan. Evan, meet Stella. Ain't she pretty?"

"A peach, yeah."

I don't know what is with me, envy most likely. I'm not like that usually. Or am I? Boy, I really need to go out more often.

Rodrigo pulls Stella to his side, arms around her waist and gives her a soft kiss on her lips. Her thick, kissable lips.

"Well, Evan, unless you need me for something, we two will be parting."

After they walk away, I go to the terrace edge and peer down the steep slope. A few minutes later, a red convertible carrying the two love birds scrambles down the winding road.

***

The next couple of days I'm still under the impressions that my chance encounter made on me. Maybe I ought to get out more, meet new people. I don't have Rodrigo's demeanor and masculine looks, but I ain't too bad either.

But also, I can't take the little slut out of my mind. I don't know why, and it gnaws on me. Ever the analytical one, I must understand it. Sure, she was pretty, but I've seen many prettier girls. Is it that she is a boy? I've seen femboys, too, though there certainly was something special about this one. Quiet yet assured, outwardly feminine and yet so forward. Or was it the looks? The cute, kissable round figure atop the girlish frame?

After two days of trying to put the matter behind me, I decide I'd rather look into it. The fact that Rodrigo already had her -- him -- whatever -- does not put me off, if anything, it's only an added incentive. What if I can take what's his? Fuck her after he did? Would I prove myself like that? The notion sets me in motion.

Finding out who someone is and what they do is easy in a surveillance society. There are recorders everywhere, and privacy is not a ground to deny the collection of information. Much of it is public domain and free to use.

I only need a few good images of Stella to jump-start my search. I pull a couple from the house recordings (because of course the house records everything) and feed them to an AI search assistant. Sure enough, a wealth of information streams towards me and Stella's life is mine to examine.

The primary data is video streaming from public spaces, but the AI is smart enough to piece the story together from just that.

Six years back, Stella arrived in the city as a boy. Cute and femmy, about eighteen. My AI can't ascertain the exact age. He may have been even cuter back then, though not as fem as today. He got a studio apartment overlooking the students' party district and a year later enrolled in an engineering college program. The AI even has a name for him: Liam.

There is plenty to unpack, but the gist of it is that Liam got attracted like a moth to a candle by the nightlife in his neighborhood, and sooner rather than later he turned into a readily available slut for all boys and men.

Some of the data is of explicit sexual nature, and I know right away Liam was and still is chasing sex with abandon. Chasing sex like there is no tomorrow and his salvation depends solely upon it.

I take a long breather to clear my mind of it all, before trying to make some sense. Now that I've seen all that I've seen, I can tell Stella is more than just cute, she's hot. She dresses and conducts herself with great poise. She's a great fuck. She's a pervert and a slut. Outrageously dirty and most impure. The trashiest, everybody-fucked-her kind of slut around. I want to know everything about her, I want to be her friend, I want her to be mine.

If I am to meet her for just once or twice, and I'll see to it that I will, it should be easy. But that's not what I really want, and what I want I don't suppose I can get.

Then I lose heart. Stella is the kind of girl with a cute face and a plump butt that you only get to fuck once or twice, and I am looking for more than that. I've enough chance encounters already, most of which I can barely remember.

***

Five days have passed and I haven't made up my mind about Liam/Stella. I've watched her sex exploits daily, getting all worked up and then taking care of myself. I've got to the point where I find his slutting around amusing, if not endearing. Maybe the boy is truly lost? Alas, I am mostly at a loss. He's just a slut. For him I'll be just another cock.

It's today that Rodrigo picked to make some personal deliveries to my flat downtown. I smile as I observe the street life from my place. I love the man. Best dad ever. Kind of loose on parenting and too absorbed with his own party life, but I never needed much supervision growing up. And when I needed him, he was there for me.

I get a message from him, saying he'll be in front of the building in five minutes. I climb down from my third floor residence and look for him in the street. It's a bright, pleasant day. People in colorful clothes bring the city to life, there are trees planted and birds singing. Cars are running at a snail's pace on the pedestrians invaded street.

I am on the lookout for one of his convertibles, but instead, I spot him on foot, arms full with several large packages -- some long, some flat. And he's not alone.

"Evan, buddy. Glad to see you!"

I smile. When Rodrigo calls me his buddy and tells me he's glad to see me, I believe it.

"Good to see you too, Dad."

"Stella, do you remember Evan?"

"Hello, handsome," she says.

"Stella darling, what a pleasant surprise."

She smiles widely. The smile is just another thing that works greatly for her. She shows her bright, regular teeth, but it's her entire face that's beaming. She smiles at you and you must like her, for she radiates happiness and joy.

I try to recall Liam from pictures six years ago. Truer and probably sweeter. But it's Stella that I'd rather fuck. Everything about her screams Fuck Me!

She's dressed in a gray tube mini skirt, a black lace strap top that's just a band over her A cup tits, black high heeled platform boots, and gray and white striped stockings. Her theme for today is punk. She wears purple and gray eyeshadow, and crimson lip gloss. Her shortish black hair is formed in spikes pointing away from her head. Her nails are painted black and she wears enough metal to warrant a separate inventory.

She looks fresh and sexy. Rodrigo is lucky to fuck her today.

"Say, buddy, would you like to have a drink with us? We've spotted a cool cafe two blocks from here."

I do note the we, it's nice Rodrigo can partner with a boy as old as his own son.

"Yes, sure, it sounds fun. Let me take these packages upstairs and I'll be down in a jiffy."

I watch them leave, paying close attention to Stella's looks and walk. Her best feature yet is her midsection. Her hips curve down nicely, her ass is well cushioned. Front or side, it's the widest point on her body. Combined with a depressed chest, it gives her a very girlish profile.

Later at the said cafe, I mostly get to watch Rodrigo and Stella interact. It's not that they ignore me or anything, but I don't think there is much the three of us can talk about. Stella is as verbose as when I met her the first time, which is not much. All the things I've learned about her since combine in my mind and I can almost hear her, bluntly proclaiming: I suck dick, I don't make conversation.

Rodrigo got a coffee, Stella soda and me plain water. When Rodrigo is not sipping his drink, he's smooching his girl -- lucky geezer. Time and again, I watch him lean over, hand on her back or neck, tasting her mouth. Eating her thick lips, sucking her tongue. And it's not like she does not want his attention, she's just as much into swapping saliva as he is.

I'm not afraid Rodrigo may have fallen in love or anything, I reckon she means to him just as much as the many others that have passed through his arms before.

Speaking of arms, his right currently descends over Stella's legs, hand rubbing the inside of the near thigh. If I said I don't find the show arousing, I'd be lying.

All the better, the two of them mostly ignore me. It'd be awkward if they weren't. I lean back and decide I'll give Stella the decorations inventory I skipped earlier.

Large pendant earrings. Medium size septum ring. Thin silver chains and fake pearl strings around her neck. Decorative belly button pendant. Rings and bracelets, one armband on her left bicep. Nipple rings visible beneath the thin, soft top. The girl put effort into getting ready today.

In my mind I put the image of the sweet and shy Liam from six years ago next to her, moving my virtual gaze from one to the other, trying to find meaning. People can change a lot in six years, but this is drastic. Is there any Liam left deep inside her? I want the bashful boy for a girlfriend. I want the sexy girl to bed.

All the same, the girl is hot. I resolve that I'm going to have her.

***

With my mind set on getting a piece of Stella, I need to figure out a way in. Calling her seems like the easiest method, but she's one of the few that refuses to be available by phone. The second option is to pick her up in a bar or club, in the students' party district where she spends most of her nights. Finding her would be a matter of chance but, between street surveillance and AI assistance I should lock a location in not too long a time. Except that I'm not a party animal myself, and what am I going to say to her? Fuck, fuck now? I am looking for more than a sweaty fuck on a drunken night. And if I go for that, I'd be nothing more than an anonymous face in a long queue of lusty men. It did work for Rodrigo, with the caveats that he was not looking for her, he is a party animal and he was only looking for an easy fuck.

I've studied Stella long enough, asking her out won't work. She just doesn't do that. Oh, I love to have dinner with you, but I've got these two guys fucking me about that time. I can imagine her saying from her door frame. Me standing there with a bouquet of flowers in my hands.

As for the club idea, that's not me. See, Rodrigo is the king of the dance floor. With his broad smile, friendly face, massive frame, silk shirts, great dance moves, everybody notices him at the club. Girls get crazy about him. Me? I can put up a nice shirt, slacks, shoes and I'd look good on the street. Still, mostly average. I don't stand out in crowds. At the club I'd be an awkward beast. Fish on land. A bird with a broken wing.

What will I do? What will I say? How will I get her attention? I do have money, plenty of it. Rodrigo's money, to be sure, not mine. I could find her at the club and snatch her from there. I could rent the most expensive penthouse in town. Take her there by helicopter. Give her the rarest champagne and the freshest strawberries. Extravagant dresses, big diamonds. Later on, I could fly her to a private island on a beach with the finest grain sand. It'd be a full moon and the sky would be clear. Ridiculous, but rich guys do that.