Falling for Dad's Slut Ch. 03

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

Stella is coming out of the bathroom, wiping her wet body after taking a shower. Her shortish blonde hair is wet and mostly plastered to her head. She wears large golden earrings -- narrow triangular frames, so large and low-set that their bases swing just above her straight shoulders.

"I need to leave for the supermarket," she says. "Pick up some stuff. I'll be back in half an hour."

"I want to come with you."

"Then you better get dressed."

She herself doesn't take the dressing up business seriously. I might have liked seeing her pulling panties up her long legs and fitting a tight bra over her narrow chest before pulling one of her short dresses over her head, but she has other ideas. She locates a long shirt I brought as a change on a different occasion at the top of a shelf and puts it on. She removes the ridiculous earrings and she's ready to go.

"That's it?" I ask, seeing her wearing nothing but my shirt. "That's how you are going out?" Her legs are bare almost to the top. Unless you count a small neck chain and another chain around her right ankle, she's kind of naked.

She nods. She only adds a pair of platform sandals before stepping out the studio flat.

Like most girls, she's given to wearing shoes that raise her height. But Stella is not a girl, "she" is a young man and not even a short one. He is average height.

We step into the bright and hot day and start making our way through a maze of narrow, hilly streets to a midsize grocery store.

It's been three weeks since I first had Stella. Since then we've met about every third day, usually at her place, a couple of times at my place in the old town. It was nothing but sex, with breaks washing, eating and using the toilet. We slept in each other's embraces a few times, before or in between fucking. There was never much talking. No confessions were made, no history was shared, no questions were asked, and no opinions were offered. It did not feel necessary. Seeing Stella has felt so far like a clandestine affair between two people who care very little about talking with the other, but need sex and intimacy badly. It is very different from anything I have ever experienced so far and it is very good.

Today is the first time I'm doing something with Stella outside one of our flats. A slight breeze catches up with us whenever the street angle is right. My shirt flaps sluggishly around Stella's midsection, and it feels like it might give it up for the sun to see.

I have had Stella not only as my sex starved fuck buddy, but also as my doll. I've dressed her and undressed her as I've pleased. I've fitted her with piercings and trinkets, combed her hair, and put makeup on her face. What I'm not skilled enough to do myself, she had done for me as I've directed her. I've touched her in every place and seen her in her most intimate moments.

I've always wanted to do that with a girl, but my exes were never quite into it. It's strange that the woman to give that to me is a man. It's strange and wonderful that this man is to such a degree the girl of my dreams.

The morning gets more animated when we reach the supermarket. People, not many at this hour, come and go and call at each other. Stella picks a wire frame cart from just outside the store entrance.

"Wait!" I stop her. She turns to face me and I kiss her. She's wearing piercings in her lower lip and tongue, like she has worn almost every time we've met. Today it's a small lip ring and a long, blue barbell. She pushes her tongue in my mouth and I suck it. I put my hand on the back of her thighs and brush up over her soft skin until I reach her bare ass.

Somebody coughs behind me. Maybe they find such signs of intimacy in public spaces inappropriate, or maybe it's just a cough. I see Stella pushing the cart through the automatic glass doors and I follow.

Inside the store, she searches the aisles, looking for whatever it is she needs. My business is having fun with her while she's doing her shopping. I stop her often, turning her around to face me and undoing the buttons on the top of the shirt. When she gets away from me, she fastens them back into place. It's a game I win -- that she lets me win -- slowly, and more buttons get undone then fastened back. Before long, the shirt opens down to her navel and her tits are easily visible from her sides.

Where the gaze reaches, the hand follows. I walk by her side or behind hers, without as much saying a word. When she stops to study the shelves or read a label, I take the opportunity to slide my hand under her shirt and play with her breasts. I am as serious about my business as she is about her, and make no pretense that I'm not doing what I am doing. I either pick a nipple between my fingers and twist or pull it, or I shake one of her soft, jiggly tits from its base. Unlike me, she keeps a perfectly even face, pretending that I'm not there and that nothing I'm doing to her is really happening. She does not say a thing. She does not look at me. She does not even smile.

Since it is so, I need to raise my game. When she stops in front of a shelf, I get behind her and run my fingers up her naked thighs. I go up over her bare buttocks, raising the shirt over, leaving them exposed to the store's neon lights. I'm not at all discreet about it; I want other shoppers to see her naked ass. My work is a public service -- it's for the benefit of all. And the shoppers do see Stella's bare ass -- not the entire store floor, but enough of them. Some turn their eyes for a better look -- guys mostly. Some giggle -- girls mostly. A woman turns her companion away. A geezer stares impudently, coming nearer for a better view while pretending to be searching for something on the shelves. Take a closer look, pops: there's something to see here!

An aisle later Stella stops behind her still mostly empty cart to read a box. I stop by her side and raise her shirt for her entire butt to show. She reads her box carefully, even stopping to ask my opinion on one of the listed nutrition facts. I offer my honest, if long winded opinion. There have been plenty of shoppers behind us all this time.

I'm starting to feel satisfied that the world has seen enough to share in my appreciation of Stella's ass. They might not be so happy to learn Stella is a guy, but as long as they don't know, they don't mind it. But what if I let them in on this fact?

I stop Stella from pushing her cart and turn her to face me. I look straight at her face and she looks back at me as I unbutton her from top to bottom. There: male genitals to see -- shaved and on the cute side, for those able to discern. Then I turn her back to her cart and let her roam the aisles freely. It goes quietly from there on. Maybe shoppers coming from the front can't see her bits behind the wires, or simply are not all that impressed.

When Stella has found everything she was looking for, we head for the counters. I note that the shirt has its lower two buttons done.

Back at Stella's place, I let her drop the bags in the kitchen before leading her to the dining table. I bend her over it. I drop my pants to my ankles and I coat my hard dick with spit before sticking it in her hole. I fuck her like she deserves no better. When it gets hot, I take a moment to take my t-shirt off. With my cock still in her ass, she too manages to take her shirt off, her efforts looking comical. I turn her on her back, butt coming over the table edge, and fuck her some more. My hips slam noisily over the soft back of her ass and thighs.

I sit myself in a nearby chair and she sits on my cock. She hops weightlessly on it and kisses me amorously. I put my hands over her thighs and behind her butt cheeks. I spread them and I also give her a little assistance in her bouncing. Stella rolls and shakes her bottom over my shaft like a long practiced rider, like she could do it all day.

When she finally climbs down off me she kneels and gives me a sloppy, noisy blow job. It's me who puts a stop to that -- I stand up and pull her by her hair to the bed. The pained expression on her face under my hand only adds to my pleasure. I arrange her butt up in the air, knees spread, face and shoulders on the bed. She's very easy to work with. Not only is her body long and flexible, but she seems to know or guess my intentions almost every time. Such are the benefits of fucking an accomplished slut.

I take a moment to appreciate the sight. Her raised behind is notably wider than her upper body. Her hole gapes wide enough that I can slip in a finger without touching its walls -- and that's on the smaller, horizontal axis. The puckered ring around is wide and healthy looking. And there's the male anatomy underneath it, it turns me on and makes me laugh at the same time. There are stretch marks visible on her upper buttocks, going over her hips, and some, weakly defined, under her ass, descending on the back of her thighs.

It's a good ass to fuck and I set on a good, long grind. Stella seems to enjoy it as much as I do, though as usual, she does it in a quiet, subdued fashion. She turns once to look at me, one shoulder raised from the bed. She extends her arm to touch me, urging me closer to her. I throw my left leg over her ass, foot not far from her face, and keep thrusting into her. She puts her arm behind my front leg, like she wants more of me inside her. I move my foot close to her face and she kisses it and sucks the big toe. It's one of the things she does -- sucking fingers and toes. I like it and when I like it too much, I put my feet on her face and continue to pump her ass.

When I tire of the clumsy position, I collapse Stella on the bed, legs held together behind her, and fuck her ass some more. I turn her on her back, and fuck her with her legs in the air. She seems to want to get away from me for some reason and tries to escape, so we struggle over it. I catch her when she manages the feat, I'm not letting her go. Before long she's almost over the bed, head and shoulders hanging over the edge. I have no idea what she was thinking, but I get out of the bed and come to her side. She's still trying to get away from me, but I cannot allow that. I put my dick to her face and she swallows it readily. I fuck her mouth deeply, and saliva mixed with mucus flows from the corners of her mouth and tears from the corners of her eyes.

***

It's only so long I've known Stella, but I feel more at ease around her than anybody I remember. Except my mother when I was a child, what a strangely random thought to have.

Time crawls to a standstill. I feel like I'm transported to a place I have long forgotten, where nothing bad can happen. Stella is there with me and there's nothing we don't do together or keep from each other.

***

One of the days I ask to see the inside of her wardrobe. I've seen several of her slutty or just too revealing outfits, I want to know what else she has to wear. We are cooling off naked after sex. She is lying on the bed on her belly, propped up on her elbows and looking at me.

Behind the sliding door of the cupboard I find dozens, if not one hundred dresses and other pieces on hangers. I can not see a single long one -- Stella is all for showing her legs. Some of the dresses are pretty, some are cute. Many have daring cuts or are made of thin, transparent fabrics.

"Can I pick something for you to wear?"

"Sure, anything."

"Come here and stand up."

With Stella by my side, I start pulling out dresses still on their hangers and holding them in front of her body, trying to figure out which one would do. Most of her stuff is risque, suggestive, lewd, or outright provocative. It's racy, bordering on whorish, though not lacking a certain elegance. I am very pleased with my discoveries.

I settle on a small black backless dress, with a neck band on top.

"Try this."

She pulls it over and turns around slowly for me to examine it, and how she wears it. The dress has a tapered upper front that leaves sideboobs visible. It comes together in a soft V very low on the back, exposing a good deal of Stella's ass crack. Two narrow diagonal bands crossing over the top of the crack hold together the otherwise too open design. Side slits run up to the widest point on the hips. The fabric looks and feels nice. The dress is stylish, if scanty and immodest. It leaves the sides and back almost completely exposed and accessible. It says in no ambiguous terms its wearer is looking for company.

Stella looks dangerously sexy in this thing. I don't believe I can improve on the look much, but loading on trinkets is satisfying in more than one way, and there is no reason to hold back. I fit her with large ear pieces, bracelets, a large ring in her lower lip and a small one in her nostril. I hesitate for a moment before crumpling the front of the dress between her breasts, to expose them. I fit her nipples with blue and yellow barbells, before pulling the dress back over tits.

I ask Stella to take a couple of turns. I approve of the overall result. I pull her next to me, and stroke her inner thighs. I turn her around and run my fingers over the exposed part of her butt crack. Then I pull the dress off slowly over her head, not because she needs any help taking it off, but because I like undressing her.

I have her try several dresses with deep, wide cleavages -- the type that leaves the insides of the boobs visible from the front and showing fully from an oblique angle, the type that barely covers the nipples and too easily slides aside. I am not content with just peeking at her pierced nipples -- I slide my hand in and give them a good pull and twist.

Next is a transparent, backless red dress with a belt made of golden rings. It leaves nothing to the imagination.

"Whoa, I can't believe you have something like this! It shows every bit."

I have her do more turns, while I crudely grope her ass and breasts. No matter how vulgar or rough I get, she bears it all with great aplomb, as if she's been measured at the tailor.

I help her change into a white dress that is too short, with a round skirt that leaves the bottom of her ass exposed.

"Oh, this is so sleazy! And you are getting so fucked!"

I do her from behind where she is -- standing, still in her little white dress.

***

Some other day I ask to see her smaller clothing pieces: tops, skirts, and alike.

"You may look everywhere," she replies. "Stop asking for permission. I wish I had something to hide."

"Really? Everywhere? Every shelf?"

She laughs. I think she finds my curiosity amusing.

She is right. There is precious little to see. No personal photos, no memorabilia, there is nothing to hint of a past. Nothing to hint of anything, really, no interests or otherwise. And no male clothing.

One drawer gives away a few sex toys: a couple of collars, a leash, a butt plug.

"Somebody's been naughty," I call out to her.

She smiles broadly. "You know me, mister. Anything, as long as it pleases."

"Then let's try these right away."

I pick out the white collar and walk to the bed edge where she is sitting. We are both naked, as we are during most of our time together. She bows her head and raises her blonde hair above her hair line. I put the narrow belt around her narrow neck and lean forward to fasten the buckle in the back. Her sedate nature makes my dick twitch and brush over her cheek. I turn the closed collar around her neck, so that the buckle faces forward.

"There. It looks good on you."

She beams at me, arms coming down at an angle to the bed.

The butt plug is light purple and stubby. Really thick, I figure the width of three of her fingers held together at its narrowest point. I have little doubt it could serve as more than a decoration on Stella's body, her hole being so loose, but it is a decoration I am looking to fit her with. I take the lubricant jar from its own drawer and coat the plug in a thin film of grease, then scoop up another glob of gook with two of my fingers.

When I return to the bedside, Stella is already lying on her belly. She spreads her butt cheeks wide with her hands. I put the lube over her rear entrance and rub it around in tighter circles, with one, two and finally three fingers. The creased area surrounding her hole is pleasantly large. Its softness and warmth makes my hand tingle. The intimacy of playing with someone's butt like that dazes and delights me. My cock grows stiffer. I swallow hard. I don't want to ever leave this ass. The fleshy surface of her pucker depresses under my fingertips, even without me exerting more force. Stella's hands, sunk in her fleshy buttocks, pull it wider. Slowly the hole opens. I'm so turned on by now that my cock aches with arousal. I slip my fingers in -- all three of them -- they slide in all the way, almost by themselves, and Stella's hole closes around them. I pull them out, then push them back in again, then out, then in. I give her a several minutes long fingers fuck, getting myself all worked up and even harder in the process. The funny thing about Stella's looseness is that fucking her would not have got me that hard. At last, I fit the plug over her hot hole and gently push it in.

I lean back to take a look at my work: Stella is still pulling at her cute buns, with the large base of the plug covering about a third of her entire butt's width. All I need next is to get her busy doing something, to see her moving thus adorned.

"Stella darling, would you be so kind as to brew me a cup of tea?"

"Yes, of course. I would. Right away."

She's not dumb at all, the girl. The boy. He makes sure he moves in front of me plenty and unnecessarily, showing his slim body from every angle. I sit on the edge of the bed and watch him rapt, his ass spread by the ridiculous circle of purple plastic and his smooth boy parts dangling from his groin. When I have my cup of tea, he proceeds to rearrange the dresses in the wardrobe by color, twisting his body side to side and bending over for no discernible reason.

"Evan, you're dripping all over my floor!" he calls out to me.

"Huh?"

He is right. A string of precum is dangling at the tip of my dick.

"Let me take care of that for you, sweetie," Stella offers. His house, his rules, I have to follow my kind host's lead. He sits on his plugged butt between my legs and starts sucking my dick, licking up and down, sticking his pierced tongue out. I give him some gentle head support and brushed the blonde curls from his face.

Some boys really want to suck dick, don't they? I sucked dick myself more than once and on my own choosing, but it never grew on me.

"I need to eat your ass, too," he says, looking straight into my eyes. I don't think I could ever refuse somebody as pretty as he is now. There is lustful determination on his bright face. The white collar with the golden buckle frames it nicely, but it doesn't cause him to say please.

Eating ass is something he can never get enough. He goes at it with unrelenting energy. He kisses and sucks my hole, tongues it up and down and rubs his face in my crack, all the while making loud noises. He spits on my hole, then works the spittle around with his fingers before finally slurping it. I only interrupt him to give him kisses: I grab him by his hair, pull him up to my face and eat his frothy mouth. When I have enough of it, I pull him into bed and pull the plug out of his ass, leaving it open to be plugged by something else. I give the pretty boy the fuck he deserves, changing positions until finally he squats over me, hopping on my shaft. He keeps leaning forward to kiss me, but mostly he leans back, propped in his arms, boy parts flying up and down between his legs on the rhythm of his bouncing.

He likes to eat ass. I like to probe his ass. Is that what boys do when they are alone? Playing with each other's hole?