Falling for Dad's Slut Ch. 01

But that's not what would impress Stella -- the Stella that I've constructed in my mind. This Stella is singularly obsessed with getting fucked. This Stella I'd have to get gangbanged by a dozen ripped guys. Drown her in cum. She'd love that. I doubt she'll notice me through all the semen flowing down her face, though.

Considering all that, I deem that paying her a visit might be my best shot. I try to work out a plan, what I'll say, what I'll do, but no plan I come up with makes much sense upon a second examination.

One morning I wake up excited and full of energy. I have my breakfast and decide that this is it. I'll go and fix her breakfast. It's just a spur of the moment idea, one as bad as any other I've had so far, but that doesn't bother me.

It's 8 a.m. as I make my breakfast plan. It may seem late in the day, but I'm sure I'm too early. Stella must have returned to her place late at night and she'll be sleeping all through the morning.

I collect what I have from my kitchen and the rest I get from a nearby supermarket. I could wait some more, but I'm too excited and I figure it would be better to be early than late.

The sun is high in the sky, the new day is no longer fresh and I'm making my way to Stella's home. At 9 a.m. I am in front of the door and pressing the doorbell button.

It doesn't take all that long for the door to swing wide. It's Stella, looking half asleep and wearing nothing but a small, threadbare white t-shirt. A boy, for sure.

"Good morning!" I say to him, my eyes running from his sleepy, cute face to his male bits.

He appears to struggle to keep his eyes open.

"Evan, what are you doing here? Come inside." He grabs my shirt and pulls me in.

I've already seen the lower part of Stella's body from the front, and as she turns away and leads into the flat, I see it from behind. I figure I'm already happy with the results I've got today. As for her body appearance, it's pale and soft.

I watch her ass as I follow, enjoying the sight more than I should. The anatomy is cute enough, but it's the surprise of candid intimacy that makes me giddy.

The flat appears to be a studio of irregular shape, widening from the door to the window side at the other end. It strikes me as homey and warm, tastefully appointed. Large windows are covered by curtains, filtering the light.

As she walks, Stella takes her t-shirt off, dropping it on a chair.

"Are you looking for a place to crash?" she asks, still leading me inside.

She reaches the bed that seems to underpin the organization of the entire space. About 1.5m wide, it's more than comfortable for one person, but would be narrow for two.

"I can't even think at this time, I'm going back to sleep. Make yourself at home."

She climbs in the bed and pays me no further attention. As she lies on her back, Stella becomes a boy again. His eyes are closed, and beyond the rhythmic motion of his abdomen, he's still.

I was expecting to find him sleeping, so the turn of events does not throw me off. I gaze over the place and locate the kitchen part of the studio, where I lay my provisions, some in a large fridge, some on a table.

Then it's time to take Stella up on her offer. I spot a large, comfy armchair by the bedside, and after adjusting its position for a better vantage point, I take station in it and what watch Stella. I'm going to do that for a while, until she wakes up.

I observe the young man sleeping near me. My experience and knowledge of feminine boys is limited. Not entirely non-existent, but limited. Very. I recognize the newness of this is part of the thrill.

Stella sleeps on her back, right leg bent, foot under left knee, arms spread. She has less body hair than most of my exes. Her small tits have all but disappeared now, flattened by gravity. The nipples on them are button like, femininely large and inviting grabbing and rolling. The areolae are perfectly round and while of a normal size for a woman, would make a male owner die of embarrassment. Her feet, his feet would be large for a female. A sharply drawn crescent crease line separates the groin from the abdomen. She wears no makeup or jewelry.

I can't pick a gender. A man, with the body of a girl and diminutive male bits.

Half an hour passes and I set on giving the studio a tour. It's not small for a single occupant, it'll be insufferable for two. Bar that they were lovers and couldn't stay apart for more than one minute. The bathroom is a separate room. The kitchen is delimited by furniture and masonry. The entire place is spotlessly clean and nothing looks out of place. Nothing like the regular, messy student pad. There are no clothes thrown around, unless the recently dropped t-shirt counts.

The outer wall has a footprint that curves gently on the outside, as this part of the building is shaped like the vertical cut of a cylinder. It is covered by windows from almost floor to ceiling.

The bed lies obliquely by the outer wall, the closest corner just one meter away.

I sit on it, watching my host from above. It's strange for someone to share intimacy so candidly. Or is it?

I recall what I've learned of Stella from countless recordings showing her in bars, clubs, dancing clubs, street parties. Liam had been shy at first. Watching the party from outside. Then he metamorphosed, like a butterfly. Turned into a sexy thing, girlish and very slutty. Wearing outfits from elegant to obscene, always surrounded by men.

And then the proper sex tapes. Plenty of people like to boast about their sexual exploits and post their recordings for everyone to see. The AI had found rivers on Stella. Fucked senselessly, often times brutally and beyond most basic decency. An endless stream of men, many of which must have been complete strangers. Several a night, often at the same time. How could she? Why did she? It's strange, revolting and maddening arousing.

So many girls and so many boys dream of slutting it all out -- for whatever it's worth, Stella is the one that lived it.

I myself have posted images and vids of my private moments, of the crazy fun me and my girlfriends had. Everybody does it. The girls as much as the boys, if not more. But it's mostly tame stuff, home one on one action, nothing like Stella.

More time passes. There's some noise coming from the street, but it's all peaceful and I don't mind the wait. I'm back at my original armchair observation post when Stella gives signs of waking up. Her eyes open and before long, set on me.

"Wakey, wakey."

"Evan, what... How did you get in here?"

"You let me in."

"Hmm, I don't remember anything like that." She pulls to the bedside where she sits, elbows on knees. "What time is it?"

"Almost eleven-thirty."

"What time did you arrive?"

"You really don't remember. It was nine."

She seems a bit at a loss, as if trying to piece things together. "I must have been sleeping deeply."

"You fell asleep almost immediately after I arrived."

Nothing is said for a while.

"I take it you stayed up late last night."

"4 a.m. I don't wake up earlier than this. Usually."

"Partying out?"

She smiles. "You bet!" Then, pensively: "Boy, I got fucked last night. Can route a highway through my butthole now. But then... it's the same most nights."

She straightens her back and pushes her shoulders out. She shows me her perfect white teeth. "You wanna fuck me?"

"Like now?"

"Isn't that what you came for?"

"And if it were?" I tease.

"I wouldn't let you leave disappointed."

"You're cute. And so kind. But I came to feed you breakfast."

"That's new."

"Would you like some?"

She smiles and says nothing for a while. "Yes, I suppose."

"Then I'll get busy fixing your breakfast."

She blows me a kiss.

While I do my cooking, Stella freshens up in the bathroom. Then she watches me from the bed, still naked, as I finish.

"Bedside or table?" I call out.

"Table."

I lay the breakfast on the table in the living room. Eggs Benedict, fruit salad, fresh juice, coffee.

Her eyes are still on me, but she does not move.

"Are you going to eat your breakfast?"

"You shouldn't have."

And I thought I did good. I sit back in the armchair.

"You're not hungry. Not a breakfast person."

"Not really."

"I'm not keeping you from something, am I? I'll take my leave, let you on your programme."

"No, stay. There's nothing I need to do now. This is the slow part of the day."

There's more silence. I enjoy the sight of her and she doesn't seem to be bothered by nothing being said. I feel at ease around her. Him. Is that it? Is it easier to be around a boy?

"You're not going..." she starts.

"What is it?"

I stand from the chair and sit by her left side on the bed. We almost touch.

Stella turns her head and looks at me. I can hear her breathing from here. Her face is bright, her eyes are blue, her lips are full and made for kissing. My gaze descends over her chin then on to her shoulders and tits. The close proximity stirs me, I want her.

"What were you saying?" I ask her.

"I thought you were not going to fuck me. I'm not sure now."

My pants feel too tight. I put my right arm over her waist, hand resting on her hip. Her skin is soft and warm and what boy can resist that? Her lips are calling and I lean over to kiss her.

She stretches her neck to meet my lips, her eyes closed, her hands on the bed. The anticipation has built up over days and hours. My hold on her is gentle, and so is our kiss. I part her lips with mine, then suck them long and softly. She responds likewise.

My earlier resolve to not progress further than this today gets shakier by the second. With great effort and mostly so I commit myself to it, I say:

"Can we not fuck today?"

"You're not a virgin or anything?"

I smile. "No, I'm not a virgin."

Her nakedness right by my side excites me in a way it shouldn't. It's as if she's right and I am a virgin and she's the first girl I've seen with no clothes on. Maybe me being clothed and her being so candid has something to do with it.

I straighten up and pull back to see her from behind. Her back is flawless, her shoulders are beautifully shaped, her neck is delicate. The sight of so much naked flesh and the intimacy of both closeness and touch melts my brain away.

I lean forward to have her face again, to taste the sweetness of her lips. His lips? Our tongues meet, the kiss drags on deep and wet.

I stop in order to resume my earlier examination. Her hips flare up beneath her narrow waist, with all the flesh that would distribute vertically now forced up on the horizontal by the sitting position. Her bottom feels so soft and fresh. My dick is so hard it aches. I glimpse the crack between her buttocks, and it registers like the luckiest sighting of forbidden anatomy. I'm giddy like a little boy and I dare running my fingers on its height, bottom up and down again. The little boy just got his naughtiest wish. I'm glad she's not watching, I would not want anybody to see my mindless, overly excited grin.

I level up with her again. Her legs are spread apart wider now, her soft male bits in full sight, over the softly curved, smooth abdomen and thighs.

Why is it that I'm so drawn to him? What is there about him that arouses me so much? I like girls, but I've never felt like that for a girl.

He could be my brother. Though I'm younger, I'd be the one protecting him. He could be my friend and buddy, the way most girls could never be. And him having the courage to lay out his feminine, vulnerable self is so endearing.

I never trusted myself to know what was on any of my exes' minds. With him? I feel I could know him. I could hold his hand and know he feels the way I do. I guess boys and girls really are different.

Still, I am a straight guy. I wouldn't be aching to get intimate with a boy, unless he was really cute and girlish. Every now and then I see one such boy, turn my head for a second look and wonder what if? Perhaps this is the time.

"Stella. Is it Stella?"

"Stella, Bella, Jezabella. Whichever you like. And it does not have to end with ella." Stella laughs. "I was Imogen last night and Lucylle the night before."

"Liam?"

She chuckles. "I can be Liam."

"So you don't ordinarily go by Stella?"

She shakes her head.

"I can't even remember the names I give. I just assume that whatever name guys use when addressing me must be mine."

"Always a girl's name?"

"Lately, yes."

"Are you a girl?"

"I'm always what they want me to be, yes."

"And if that wasn't a thing?"

She grins. "I have a dick, just like you. I am a man."

My man does not have much flesh in between his pretty thighs. I suppose quantity matters less.

The time to examine that anatomical area will come. Today I'd rather spend my attention on less sexual parts.

I place my right hand over her left shoulder and touch her neck. Run my fingers on her nape. Grab her pierced earlobe, pulling it gently. I follow the contour of her ear, thumb and index over the helix, as if on a rail. I note a second piercing hole, above the lobe. I turn her head around and examine her right ear. It has the same two holes, lobe and lower helix.

"How many piercings do you have?"

"I got a few. Lower lip. Nipples. Navel."

I grab her lower lip between my fingers and pull it out and down. She does not resist it.

"Septum?"

I release her lip so she can answer.

"Yes."

I touch her nose, pressing her nostrils inside. A piercing hole is visible on the left.

I caress my way down, over her mouth and chin, over her throat, which I hold in a choke. I watch her intently, savoring the feeling that she is in my power. Then my hand moves lower, feeling her soft, small tits. I squeeze and shake them, and it feels so good that I keep at it for a while. The perverted and fresh pleasure of playing with a boy's tits. Who knew?

"I bet you have plenty of fittings for these."

I pull at her nipples, and release them when far enough.

"Mmh... yeah. Got some."

"Show me."

I let her leave my side to retrieve a small box from a shelf. It keeps perhaps two dozen pairs of nipple piercings, bars and rings of many shapes and sizes.

I go through it, expressing my approval. "Cute."

I select a pair of smallish rings and hand it to her. "Put these in."

She complies, efficiently and without hesitation.

Now playing with her nipples is even more fun, as I get more leverage to pull and twist. I mean to test her pain tolerance, but it occurs to me that she might be testing my character by suppressing any signs of emotion, so I stop. I kiss her again, messily, while massaging her tits. I can't imagine what could possibly be going through her head.

I sift through the little box again and find a pair of larger bars. She changes her nipple fittings without me saying a word. The bars are fun too, I can twist and pull and release, watching her tits wobbling all the while.

I run my thumb over her lips, right and left and back, finger pushed deeper at each pass, until her teeth are showing. Then I push my thumb half way in her mouth and she dutifully sucks it.

The boy is either very submissive or he has decided to let me do whatever I please. Whichever it is, I enjoy myself greatly.

I ask him for his navel decorations and he produces another box of body jewelry, all for the purpose. I select a decorative piece with a flowery design and two thin chains and he fits it in the hole above his belly button. It looks sexy, but it's not much fun. I get back to tormenting his soft tits. And what a delight that is, squeezing them, shaking them from the base or nipple.

There's a large pair of rings in the nipples box. I've never seen tits decorations so large before. I pick them out.

"Can we try these?"

He starts removing the bars, but I stop him.

"Can I take them out?"

He nods and I carefully unscrew the pieces and pull the rods out slowly. That's a lot of fun, too, and yet another thing I knew nothing about until today. He picks up the rings, but I intervene once again.

"What if I fit them?"

He looks deep into my eyes. "Softly, please."

"Okay, show me."

We work together and under his guidance, I manage to fit my boy with rings through which I can put two fingers easily.

"Fuck, this is hot!"

I mean to ask him where he has worn them, but can't resist kissing them instead. He's still sitting on the bed's side, to my right. I pull him closer, and move my right arm from his hip to his shoulder. I cup his right tit with my left hand, then press my lips all over his face.

"Did you ever lactate?"

"Are you actually asking me that?" He rolls his eyes.

"Uh, yeah. Is it a wrong question?"

He shakes his head.

"No wrong question. Yes, I did. When my tits started growing. I could squeeze perhaps a tablespoon out of each of them."

I bite my lower lip involuntarily. How I wish I had seen that -- his milk spraying from his nipples. I imagine myself suckling at his tits.

I've had enough of sitting by his side. I bring a chair from the table where my breakfast still waits to be eaten near the bed and sit myself on it. I invite him to sit on my lap. I have my right arm over his waist and my left resting in his lap. His body is smooth and soft. He feels just like a girl -- a slender girl -- in my arms. Yet he's an older guy. This contradiction splits my mind and excites me terribly.

"I haven't met anybody like you."

He puts an arm over my shoulder and smiles. I run my hand over his body, from neck to groin, then stare transfixed at his small junk. I cannot quite believe that I have him like this.

"You are a slut."

He chuckles. "I am a slut. Oh, I'm such a slut."

"What does a slut like you do?"

"I get my ass fucked."

"There must be more."

"There isn't. I'm a very boring person. A most unidimensional character."

I purse my lips. My left goes over his groin, belly and finds the boy's tits again. "You go to school," I offer him an out.

"When I remember. Now that you've said it, I could do that today."

"Study, you mean?"

He nods. "Attend classes."

"Then I should leave you to it. Though we'll meet again soon."

"I figured that much."

I kiss him again. "You know, you don't look much like a man."

"I always looked more like a girl. As I was growing up, my estrogen levels were naturally higher than they should have been for a boy, testosterone lower."

"How did that work for you?"

"I have the feeling you'll want to know my entire life story. I have a speech prepared for this type of eventuality."

"Let's hear it."

"I always looked girlish. I grew up in a very different type of environment. Those around me were taking note. I was getting plenty of attention on that. I was not seeking it, I did not care for it back then, though equally, it did not bother me. And there were also days when I enjoyed it, just as there were days when it was too much.

"Later I moved to the city, all by myself. I found a most unfamiliar environment, one I knew almost nothing about. Everything was new, strange, startling. It was scary and wonderful. Then I stepped into the night party scene and people again took notice of me. Men and boys. It was the same thing all over again at first, but not quite. Wilder, crazier and different. But what made the difference was that I was warming up to it. I started enjoying this type of attention. Lust, that is. Gradually, but the curve was rising exponentially. Something must have gotten into me, for soon there was nothing else I cared about but getting my tush pumped."

"Did you always dress like a girl?"

"That came later. When I was younger, I was invited and encouraged to be pretty. They liked it and there was support and rewards for going along. I did not think wrong of it. Just the way of the world, that's what I believed. Wearing a dress was natural, but I wasn't doing it much. My hair style was always girlish.