Falling for Dad's Slut Ch. 02

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

I'm fixated on Stella more than is good for my state of mind, not that the intoxicating feeling is not sweet and exhilarating. I don't want to call it that, but you know what I mean.

I haven't seen her since my impromptu visit and this badly needs to change. Alas, I don't have an entry -- no more than I had before our first meeting. Before parting with her, I asked for a way to get in touch, but she brushed me off. You had no difficulty finding me today, did you? she told me laughing.

Today I make a slightly different plan to meet the damnable slut, hopefully leading to similar, if not better results. I stay up late into the night, way past the usual time I go to bed. When I finally go to sleep it's 1 a.m. I set the alarm for four thirty.

My body hates it when it goes off and most of my mind wants to give up, but I have a plan. And I am the guy that sticks to plans. I rush into the shower and then to the street. Before long, I am in front of Stella's building, in front of Stella's door.

I ring the bell and wait. Nothing happens. I ring again and still nothing. She wouldn't do that, would she? I reckon a number of things might be, including that I came here for nothing. I descend the stairs and get out of the building, taking in the cool morning air.

It's not bad this neighborhood. Not expensive, but also not without charm. It's on the side of a hill, overlooking the University and many hip quarters. The street in front has a steep incline, which possibly explains the depressed rents.

There's a small square twenty meters down the street, with a fountain that's now shut off and dry. If Stella is not yet home, which would be the scenario working best for me, I should be able to see her approach from there. I walk to it and sit on the basin wall around the fountain. It's five fifteen.

When she arrives at five thirty I fail to spot her. It's her who walks to my station, clunking her heels on the cobblestone, stopping a meter away from me. Did I fall asleep?

"Evan, it's you again."

My mind is trying to fire up against the oppression of sleeplessness.

"Hi. Stella. Good morning!" I'm not going to win many girls with this line, to say nothing of its delivery.

She looks as bad as I feel, if not worse. She wears a transparent red shirt -- left sleeve almost torn off from the shoulder, right sleeve missing its lower end. Under the shirt is a black bra -- two triangles held by a horizontal band and a strap for each of them going over her back. Except that the left strap is torn and the left piece hangs from the chest band, pointing down instead of up, leaving the tit and pierced nipple exposed. She was wearing stockings when the night started; now the right leg is mostly holes, still hanging on a black suspender, and the left leg is mostly missing, with what's left of it collapsed over her ankle.

Her crimson skirt and black platform heels have survived unscathed. She wears multiple rings and bracelets, a small silver necklace, large, round earrings (I'm surprised she still has them), and a small ring in her left nostril.

Her hair is curly and blonde, with red and purple strands, coming down half way over her neck.

"Stella, darling, whatever happened to you?"

She looks tired and yet she smiles.

"Girlfriend threw you out? Come on up."

Once we get inside her place, the rhythm of the morning changes. It's warm and quiet; I feel relaxed. Stella drops her ruined clothes in the garbage bin and the skirt in the laundry basket, then disappears through the bathroom door. I take the hint and drop everything I have on me on a chair, before following her. I find her in the steaming shower area, head covered in shampoo foam. I step into the shower and soap up, but my attention is mostly on her bits. Cheeky ass, narrow waist, soft tits. Boy parts. There's no one part of her fit, smooth body I don't like. If she were a girl, she'd have strong arms and legs.

She starts soaping her body and I pay close attention to her washing her genitals. Yes, it's the first time I've seen a boy doing it from this close. The first time I've taken interest in the act. She moves to soap her ass. When she starts to move her hands upwards, I offer to soap her back. She hands me the soap bar and turns around. It's strange and stimulating to be washing the body of a boy I barely know, this early in the morning. My cock agrees.

When we're done soaping, we stand under the shower head, and let the water carry the last of the soapsuds away. Stella's eyes are closed. Water flows over her body, falling off in narrow streams. The one forming from her penis is yellower than the rest.

We're back in the studio's open area and it's only now that Stella starts removing the metal pieces from her body, putting each in its assigned box. Unburdened, she turns to face me.

"Do you want to sleep with me?"

I am not mistaken about what she means. I climb into the bed on the right side, she on the left. I extend my left arm and she rolls over until our bodies make contact. She lays her pretty face under my shoulder and puts her left arm across my upper abdomen.

She sleeps peacefully.

It's the first time I have a boy sleeping by my side, embracing me. Had somebody suggested that not long ago, I would have said Dude, gross! Now I'm thrilled, so excited that I don't know if I'll be able to sleep.

I examine Stella from my suboptimal vantage point, but first I push some hair locks from her forehead. Her face is clear, her lips are drawn for kissing. Her left tit is pressed upon my chest, her left hip curves gently over mine. Her midsection leans at a forty-five degree angle, giving me a view of both her plump ass with stretch marks on the sides and her boy parts. She -- he -- is a boy alright, he just doesn't strike me as a Liam right now. Maybe I'll ask him about it.

***

I wake up. I feel rested and happy. My companion is still sleeping by my side.

I watch Stella as seconds and minutes pass by. I'm gonna fuck the boy today, I know it. He'd have to throw me out to keep me from it. It's not like I had anything planned when I came here today, but now my body is set on it. The dominion the mind has over the body goes only so far.

"Evan --" she whispers.

"Stella."

"That's what you call me."

"Is it good?"

"I like it better than bitch," she says with a laugh. I take it that many guys call her that.

She runs her hand over my abdomen and from there shamelessly over my swollen penis.

"This is the second time I've woken up to find you around. Is this becoming routine?"

Her hand reaches under my dick and grabs my balls expertly.

"I... I can't give you an answer to your question. For some reason, I find it difficult to focus right now."

She removes her hand swiftly.

"Does this help?"

"I wish it didn't."

"Are you capable of intelligent conversation now?"

That'd be a stretch, especially with Stella's hand settling down on my mid thigh -- not far down under my junk.

"Ooh, yeah... Let me give it a try. Do you always sleep naked?"

"No. I usually wear a t-shirt. And pull the cover over."

"I don't see you wearing a shirt."

"I figured you wanted to look at me."

"Is that why you removed your t-shirt when I got here last time?"

"I suppose so. I still don't remember your arrival."

Her hand climbs up, reaching for my balls once more. Her face is still resting under my shoulder, looking down.

"I like a good pair of testicles," she shares. "It's manly."

I chuckle. She can surely speak her mind. My dick is now at almost full erection and she runs her hand over it.

"Has your ability to talk failed again?" she inquires.

"I think we ought to fuck now."

I push her left shoulder away from my body so that I can see her face. I look at her for a moment and try to kiss her, but before I get the chance, she slips from my embrace and steps out of the bed. She runs over to the bathroom.

I wait for her to return before heading in myself. I wash my face and brush my teeth.

Stella awaits me, sitting on bed with her legs bent on her left side. I sit down beside her and we kiss. She puts her arms around my neck. The several days wait and the touch of her naked body for several hours have ramped up my desire for her to the max and this kiss I find most pleasurable, my lust satisfied yet not diminishing. We lay side by side on the bed in a more comfortable position and I keep eating her mouth. I suck her lips and tongue and push my tongue inside her mouth to taste her teeth. Her arms pull me closer, kissing me back.

I turn her around, facing away from me. We're still lying side by side. I grab her tits and feel her butt cheeks rubbing against my groin. I roll her once more, this time onto her belly and sit on her thighs. I take in the sight of her blonde curls, long and narrow body and plump ass, inviting a hard slamming. I spread her butt cheeks apart to expose her puckered hole. It's the width of two of my fingers held together, of a brownish shade and looks like it could open wide. It looks heavy duty compared to the assholes of my ex girlfriends, but it's not worn.

I run my fingers over it up and down and around. I want to stick them in, but take my time to savor the sight and touch.

"Do you have any lube?" I ask Stella. Perhaps Where is the lube? would have been more proper. Language, language!

She extends her left arm to point at the wardrobe cabinet.

"On the right, second shelf from the top."

I get off the bed to find a jar of lubricant where Stella indicated. I push two fingers inside of it, and pull them out covered in a glob of yellowish goo. Back on top of Stella, I smear the stuff all over her asshole, then push the same two fingers inside. There's very little resistance. My surprise is justified only by my own experience with assholes, not by what I know of her. I scoop most of the lube around her entry and manage to push it inside. I put my fingers back in after that, exploring the wide space I find past the sphincter. This and the heat inside I find very pleasant. It's a sensation one can only get through one's fingers, not through one's cock.

My dick is burning with arousal and I can't hold back from penetrating Stella's ass any longer. I push in gently, though there's no resistance on the way. I'm balls deep in but a moment. I settle on a slow pumping rhythm, slamming Stella's fat ass with minimal force. I can't recall fucking a hole as relaxed as this one, but I'm so intensely aroused that tighter would have done no good. Stella is quiet, passive and mostly still. Only her arms change position occasionally.

I turn her on her back, bring her knees up on my hips and start pumping her again. Stella's soft tits flow up and down her ribcage, asking me to grab them, pull them, and spread them. She makes pleasurable faces, head turned to one side, eyes half closed and rolled up. I lean over to examine her face more closely and she puts her arms over my neck. The burning sensation in my dick has lessened and I can now pump her without fearing an unscheduled finish. Her hands slide slowly over my shoulders to my upper arms.

She's cute like that, urging me inside her, but I figure she'll be cuter once I raise her legs over my shoulders. Her head is pushed back, her eyes white, her mouth open, and her hands pulling gently on my hips, I can almost hear her saying "Fuck me!", yet she doesn't utter a word.

By now I'm seriously sweating and this makes fucking harder. I lay on my side, still inside Stella, with her legs still suspended over my shoulders. We both pull each other closer as I thrust into her ass at a rather leisurely pace. I stop a couple of times to give her a proper deep kiss.

Before long, Stella pushes me on my back and climbs over me. She squats over my groin and slides a hand under to fit my cock in her ass. With her hands on my body, she proceeds to hop over my shaft. She leans forward often to give me long kisses, without ever stopping her up and down movement.

She's sexy as hell, working it the way she does and with all the effort that goes into it. I imagine she'll not last long, but I am surprised. She does not tire and I start to see and feel why: her legs are strong, her abdominal muscles are well trained and her entire body is in great shape. I imagine she does plenty of repeats of this particular exercise.

She heats up and beads of sweat multiply on her skin. I watch excitedly as it streams and drips off her body.

When it's time, I take over -- I have her on her back with her head propped up by a couple of pillows as I mount her face. It's a fun activity with a girl that knows her part, and Stella is definitely that kind of girl. She gags and drools, tears streaming from the corners of her eyes. When I'm not stuffing her mouth full of cock I kiss her deeply or let her have a go at my balls.

I don't feel I'm anywhere near exhausting her before I turn her onto her belly, legs together, and start thrusting her ass from behind once more. I stay close, my body just above her. I stop pumping from time to time to reach down and use her chin to pull her face around, kissing her while my cock is still in her ass.

"Where would you like me to cum?"

"Mouth, please," she moans in reply. What a big surprise that is -- truly!

I'm not done fucking her, and the fact that I can hardly feel her ass clamping my dick should explain why. Her ass really is that loose. I pull back a couple of times, take my cock out and feed my fingers in. It's crazy how easily I enter her; she's all butter down there.

I keep fucking and fucking, sweating aplenty and feeling good. My stomach is the first to protest the long abuse and it angrily reminds me that it is empty.

I mount Stella's face again and several minutes later I cum in the back of her mouth, shuddering from an unrelenting orgasm.

I lay down by her side, pleased, tired and hungry. This fuck was better than any I can remember having had in a long while. It had been long in the making and the pent up desire had been insane, but still, it had no right being that good. Or that long. I would have cum long before the end, if not for Stella's looseness.

***

"Stand up!" Stella says.

She pulls the sweat soaked sheets from the bed and dumps them in the washing machine. She adds detergent and softener, and starts the washing cycle.

We shower together, then dry ourselves with large, fluffy towels. She's pretty as they come, but right now I'm so hungry I could eat her for real.

"Let's get out," I offer. "I'll buy you lunch."

"I'm staying. I'm hungry too, let me feed you."

I had wanted to take her out since, up until now, she's always been the one taking care of me, but I nod in agreement.

Stella pulls two ready meals from the fridge and shows them to me. One is chicken and rice with ethnic spices and the other is beef and pasta. They don't look bad at all and I give my consent. I watch her as she drops them on ceramic plates and puts the plates in the microwave.

Fuck, I'm so hungry I'm almost shaking! Through the pangs of hunger I reflect that maybe I should not feel all that bad when Stella takes the lead and does what needs to be done. I'm at her place, and... She's the older guy between us. If that's not enough, I also feel that she's the more mature one.

I get to look at the meals' discarded packaging. The clear plastic containers still have the labels on, including the 50% off discounts. Coming from a rich family, I have no sense of how ordinary people manage.

Stella sets the table. I try to help, but I'm more in the way. With the steaming dishes out of the microwave, she asks me to choose one of the meals. I take the chicken and rice. She sets the plates on the table next to two large glasses that she fills with a savory dairy drink from a plastic bottle.

I eat my meal in no time and watch Stella finish hers, waiting for my still raging hunger to subside. I like her -- him -- this man sharing his day with me.

"The rice was good. Where do you get this stuff?"

"From the supermarket down the street. They have dozens of ready meals."

"Do you always get it discounted?"

"Most of the time. I have to be there around 6 p.m., when they discount it. Too late and it's gone."

She does the dishes. I offer again to help; she declines. I concede it's her place, her kitchen and her stuff. She might not want me to mess it up, and the effort of showing me where to find everything would likely be more trouble than it's worth.

"Thanks for the meal. Thanks for everything." The washing machine is whirring impertinently, I'm trying to say something. "Thanks for the fuck," I chuckle. "I should get going and let you be. Is there anything I can do to return the favor?"

She watches me for a while. There's no such thing as awkward silence for Stella, she loves the silence.

"You do not really want to go, do you?"

I don't.

"Stay for a little longer. Help me make up the bed."

"Deal."

She pulls fresh sheets and pillow covers from a shelf under the bed and together we arrange the bed in an inviting shape. We lay in it side by side, heads on the pillows.

I look over Stella's small penis. The foreskin overhangs the tip by a centimeter. The skin of her sac appears thin and delicate; the shape of her small testicles is very visible through it.

"I've never seen a guy so small," I comment. That's kind of bullshit; I haven't looked at many guys' junk, I wouldn't really know.

"I was a bit bigger. Not yet average, but not this small. Then the estrogen changed a lot of things."

I reposition myself to face Stella, right leg bent in front of me, left under me.

I play with her tits again -- such bags of endless fun.

"You did not show me all your piercings last time. May I see them?"

"Yes, of course. They are for showing."

She leaves the bed to pick up several small, clear boxes from the cabinet, but once she has them she does not return to the bed. She walks to a small couch, the only couch, with a small low table in front of it, where she sets the boxes. Then she calls on me to come over. It's a good place to do fittings, as it's near the large windows and thus well lit. We both sit on the couch, forced by its size to sit so close that our legs touch.

"Would you start with these?" Stella asks, handing me one of the boxes.

I open it to find earrings. Most of them are large decorative pieces, very much what a forward girl would wear. I pick two black and white chevrons suspended at the end of silver chains and with her pretty assistance I fit them in her earlobes. It's not that Stella needs anything to look great, but what girl doesn't look better with the right adornments?

I turn her face to the left to have a better look, I turn it to the right, I push her chin up, I pull her chin down. The real fun is fitting Stella with stuff, not seeing her wearing it. I go through three or four pairs before deciding on some pieces made of three vertically suspended blue, white and red shapes.

I am getting good at this job, and with each set I replace, I am more confident and my gestures more precise.

Next are the nipple piercings and I make little pretense that I'm more interested in fitting than in playing with her tits. Still, even in this department my skills progress rapidly and I get to the point where I can swiftly change one piece for another.

I'm twisting her nipples for the fun of it when I ask her "Who is Liam?"

"The top of the list."

"Whaat? Explain that."

"I kept getting asked my name when I first arrived in the city. One day I pulled the list of the most popular boy names and Liam was the first entry."

"So your name isn't Liam, either."

"It is, if you want it to be."