Falling for Dad's Slut Ch. 03

I put my fingers back in his loose, warm hole. His eyes are closed or narrowed, his lips are pressed together. The raw emotion on his face is the best part of it, better than sticking my hand into him. Even though the physical sensation, not unlike that of putting my fingers in his mouth and having him sucking them, is intensely arousing. So far I haven't inserted more than four fingers into his ass and haven't gone deeper than finger length, but it never felt like there was any resistance. I guess I can get my whole hand inside. His face is telling him he wants it, and I know he's had it before; but he is a good boy. He waits for it patiently, he does not tell me what to do.

***

One quiet and damp with sweat afternoon I have him on the top of bed, sitting legs bent in front of him, ankles to his ass, back supported by pillows. My right hand's fingers are stuck all the way in his butt and my left hand is behind his neck, pulling him closer, until his face is next to mine. I kiss him for almost all the time my hand is burrowing into his bottom, probing his mouth, sucking his pierced tongue, and chewing his pierced lips. He grasps my wrist, keeping it in place. We are like that for an inordinate amount of time. The expression on his face switched between intense concentration, giggling and sobbing with delight.

Does it get more intimate than that? Plugging a boy at both ends, hand and tongue, until he cries happily?

***

With Stella I try to break through every privacy taboo, satisfy my every curiosity, and surprise her in her most intimate moments. She may inspire such feelings in me more than others, but in truth, there's no time I remember when I did not want to have that from a girl.

Stella is not at all self conscious. Whatever she does, she does it in front of me. Yawning, scratching her ass, grooming herself, there's nothing that puts her ill at ease. Then again, the place is small. Where would she hide it? And it's her apartment. She's entitled to do whatever she pleases. Still, none of my exes were as comfortable as Stella going about their own business.

I watch her curiously picking her teeth, stretching her limbs, scratching her balls. She seems happy and enjoys every bit of what she does. Her satisfaction is contagious and one gets the feeling that whatever she does must be feeling really good.

I observe her cutting and painting her finger and toenails, brushing and flossing, and washing her face and body. I often get closer for a better view. It never bothers her.

My favorites are the more intricate self-care routines. Starting with combing hair. When I was young I used to watch my mother brushing her beautiful flowy hair. Now I am not content with just watching, I have to do it myself. I ask Stella to let me comb her hair. I have her sitting naked on the floor between my legs, as I am sitting on the edge of the bed. She is tilting her head as I go around her head. It does help that her hand is running over my swollen dick. Whoever said that boys don't like to play with dolls?

Putting makeup on her, eyeshadow in particular, is way more fun. But it is also delicate, expert work. I've started by telling her how I wanted her eyelids painted, and she painted them for me, never tiring. Then I asked to do it myself. She showed me how. I'm still not very good at it, but the learning process has been most stimulating and the level of knowledge I have accumulated in just a few sessions is surprising. Acquiring practical skills is very satisfying, especially in the beginning when the learning curve is steep. Never mind that my model and practice subject was graceful enough to take my cock in her mouth as I was painting her eyelids.

Plucking eyebrows seems less entertaining at first, but seeing Stella's face twitching in pain as I am tweezing her hairs makes it well rewarding.

Shaving is the quietest of all, but it too is a delicate business and requires a steady hand. It does not get more intimate than foaming and shaving a boy doll's private bits, from the armpits to the groin to the butt crack.

Stella is that kind of doll that makes playing fun: quiet and compliant, with smooth skin and a narrow body and long limbs that can be arranged and twisted into endless quirky positions. She makes me feel like she has surrendered her body to me without reservation. Or like she just trusts me. Actually, she behaves as if no harm could possibly come to her.

The last thing I haven't done yet is to brush her teeth.

***

Having something of Stella, if only the glimpse of her naked body, is not a lot to ask. She's not flustered about wearing no clothes and I've seen her countless times completely naked in front of the open window. Going about her business with nothing on, with the windows opened or just the curtains pulled back is her nature. Same goes for sex. Getting fucked is nothing to be ashamed of, and she need not hide it.

I thought I was not at all body shy a month ago. Since then I've come a long way in Stella's company.

***

Rain catches us near my flat downtown. We run up the stairs, stripping as we go. We are already naked by the time we reach the door. We throw our wet clothes in the washing machine and our arms over each other's body. Wet and cold, we make our way to the bedroom, kissing and fucking, half crawling on the floor. We fuck in bed until we get bored of it. We move to the living room and fuck on the couch, then on the carpet next to it, and then on a lonely chair. I note rain has started in earnest only after Stella has hungrily gulped down the last drop of my spunk. It grows only louder as we lay side by side on the floor.

Stella gets up and steps outside onto the balcony, into the rain. She is completely naked and fully exposed, leaning over the rail, but I figure the angry downpour would keep anybody from appreciating her beauty this day -- anybody but me. From the living room I watch the water flowing over her narrow body with keen interest. She turns to face me, squats in front of the open door frame, legs spread apart as far as possible, and pisses.

I've got to see her pissing a lot these past few weeks, loving her candor in the act every time. Most times she's just standing over the toilet bowl. I once suggested fucking her in the ass while she pissed. She laughed and agreed to let me do it. It took a bit of trying, but we figured it out easily enough.

The first time I saw her shitting I was shaving over the sink, in her bathroom. She came in and seated herself on the bowl. She said a few words that I have forgotten since then. Maybe I thought she was in the bathroom to talk -- if she was, and if we did have a conversation, I don't remember that either. I only realized she was taking a dump when I heard and smelled it. I stopped my shaving and changed station to have a better angle on her.

The next few times I asked for it: "May I watch you do it?" Even then I knew I did not need permission, I guess it was all habit and upbringing on my part.

"I suppose seeing a guy taking a dump can have educational value," she joked. "Of course you may. When have I ever told you no?"

Was she a guy? Was she a girl? I've always wanted to see girls doing their business, I don't think I've ever wished to see a guy doing it. Stella was that girl, and her being a boy confused me and filled my mind with wonder -- and not just wonder. And the mind was not the only part of me getting terribly excited to see Stella on the bowl, grunting and laboring. She saw me getting aroused. How much did it please her?

A couple of sittings later, she sucked my dick. I can't quite remember whether it was me asking for it, her offering, or both of us coming up with the idea simultaneously. What happened was that after she finished cleaning up, I stood from my vantage point on the edge of the tub and put my very hard cock in her face. She swallowed it the best she could and worked hard to please me. The other times we did that, I did not bother waiting for her to conclude her little business, and she was happy I didn't.

***

One day while at Stella's place, I enter the bathroom to find her under the shower head. The shower is turned off and she is holding a syringe at her back.

I look at her and she looks back at me, without saying a word. I come by her side and take the syringe from her hand. It is small and narrow, a milliliter type, with a fittingly thin needle. I check and tap it for air bubbles, then stick the needle in her upper left buttock and inject Stella with whatever its content is.

"Girl power?" I ask her afterwards.

Stella smiles, and for a fleeting moment I think I see a shadow of weariness in her eyes.

"Girl power," she answers.

I throw the syringe in the bin as I get out of the bathroom.

When she gets out, I am sitting by the side of the bed. She sits on her knees in front of me and starts laying kisses on my thighs, from the knees up.

"Let me suck your balls, big boy!" she says.

I push my ass forward to the very edge of the bed and spread my legs wide. Her kisses find my balls, her hand grabs my shaft. She licks my balls and eats my ass, and only slowly tugs at my dick. She looks like she is having a great time and she does not tire doing it. I come without giving her a warning, and the first shot goes high over her head and lands on my body. Stella hurries to catch the rest of my outflow in her mouth and then she diligently licks what she has missed from my belly and upper chest.

***

Stella knows what she wants and she takes what she likes. Her easygoing nature and candor are not to be mistaken for something else. She likes to give, not to obey.

***

We are in the shower after sex, kissing. The water runs over our heads. My hands run over Stella's body, pulling at his buttocks, squeezing his tits. His eyes are closed and his arms in the air when I reach between his legs and grab his soft male anatomy. He does not protest and I start squeezing. He endures for a while, before becoming agitated and trying to break free. I do not allow him to get away and muffle his protestations with my kisses. When I let him get away, he laughs and turns his back on me.

Out of the shower I stop him unfurling his towel. I take it from his hands and start wiping his body. I wipe his chest and suck his pierced nipples. I wipe his bottom as I stand in front of him. I kneel in front of him and wipe his belly and hips, thighs and groin. I kiss his abdomen and lay a kiss on his penis. He laughs.

"Evan, what are you doing!? You better not put my dick in your mouth."

He stands me up, still laughing.

"I don't want to see you doing that. I'm the faggot, not you. If you're going to suck dick, take it somewhere else. Be the faggot for another man."

"Yes, Ma'am," I say ruefully, to more of his amusement.

As I learn from spending time with Stella, it's not just about his dick, Stella wants my mouth nowhere below his waist.

***

"Let's go on the rooftop," I tell Stella. We are sitting on a couch, in front of large windows, laughing and kissing. "The view over the city and all around is even better."

We're at my second place, a large apartment on the thirty sixth floor in a forty four floors tower. It's a newly developed, proletarian part of the city, far from the center and far removed from all the buzz and hype. The city itself lies where a vast plain meets the mountains, and the money is organized by altitude. The rich take residence in the posh areas on the mountain foothills surrounding the downtown. The have nots live on the plain: the less fortunate, the further away from it.

This new dormitory town is mostly new buildings, most of which are tall and very tall, well spaced on the ground and well kept. It's what the city government likes to call high quality high density housing. Here the residents are mainly blue collar workers and students.

We slip through the apartment door and Stella heads for the elevators.

"Let's take the stairs," I suggest.

"All the way up? Eight floors?"

"Nine, actually."

The stair case is large and well lit. The climb to the roof is long, made even longer by our laughing and kissing. Stella wears a yellow straps top and a short blue skirt. I pin her against the wall and try to pull her top above her breasts, but she manages to slip away. I catch her on the next floor and this time I almost succeed in removing her skirt before she makes another successful escape. She laughs as she runs on the stairs and my resolve to remove her clothes solidifies. She's not as lucky when I get a hold of her between the 40th and 41st. I have her against the wall, keeping her arms above her head. Or she holds them up for me. I pull her top above her breast and grab her tits. I pull it above her shoulders and she shouts No!, while laughing. I pull it over her head and kiss her greedily, she kisses me back, arms over my shoulders. I catch her again between the 41st and 42nd, and back against the wall she goes, I try to unzip her skirt as I kiss her. She fights me back and then unzips it herself. I push her skirt down over her ass, still eating her mouth. She steps out of the skirt and runs naked on the stairs, only in platform sandals.

From the 44th we take the narrow stairs up and exit on the rooftop through a sloped access hatch. It's 4:30 p.m. and the sky is at its bluest, clear and open on all sides. The rooftop is wide and we have it all for ourselves. I take Stella on a tour along its edge.

There are several other buildings around us. Their residents that happen to look out their windows right now are surely having a good day seeing the naked girl on the rooftop.

A long mountain range runs in a straight line about ten clicks from where we are. The city stretches all the way there. On our other side lies an open, featureless plain, its colors blending into gray in the distance. I've always found the plane more inspiring. It speaks to me of endless possibilities and anonymity.

Stella has climbed onto a raised part of the roof, a wide platform of an engineering function I do not recognize, about a meter high. I go to her and stop a few meters away.

She's facing the other way, legs spread apart, arms along her body, hands raised at a right angle on her thighs. She stands tall on her high heel sandals, strapped to mid calf. Her slim and firm legs come up to a cute, round butt. Her back is narrow and well shaped, and her shoulders are straight. Her neck disappears halfway under her blonde curls.

It's a good sight. It's a great sight, one even more inspiring than the great plane below.

Though Stella's stark naked, describing what she wears is no small feat. Ear pieces ending with large tear shaped forms suspended just above shoulders and painted in a peacock feather design. A thin, silver chain at the base of her neck. Bracelets on her wrists, rings on her fingers. Her nails are painted crimson. The small, yellow base of a silicone butt plug coming out her ass, of purely decorative purposes. My own handiwork. One ankle chain.

She puts her hands on her hips. The young man's diminutive genitals are visible between his round legs. I watch her, a small, broken stream of dark yellow piss drops lazily from the tip of her penis.

I smile. I'm very high up over an endless plain, under a bright blue sky. I'm looking at the completely naked, smooth, slim body of a carefree, young and joyful girl. Stella must be the freest person I've ever known. Her sense of freedom is contagious and overtakes me. I bask in it and in the silent radiance of this beautiful day, charging every bit of my being.

"Stella, get down from there," I call out to her. "You'll get your dick and balls burned."

I help her descend and we sit side by side, on the edge of the same purposeless platform. I look at her bright face, brighter than the blue sky. Her eyelids are painted the colors of the same sky, blue and cyan. That's also my handiwork. I lean forward to chew her ringed lower lip. We kiss at length, before Stella moves to a more comfortable position, straddling my legs, and then we kiss some more. I support her lithe body as she eats my mouth, her arms over my shoulders. My arms are over her thighs, my hands on her soft, silky buns.

"Let's go downstairs, and have a soda from the convenience store," I suggest to her.

She nods. She'll find out soon enough that drinking soda is not at all the experience I have in mind.

We descend the stairs to the 44th. The lobby of this last floor is taller than the other floors and filled with light at this hour. I give my companion a cursory examination while we wait for the elevator.

Maybe because of all her adornments and her hard body, Stella looks like something of a carnival girl. Her nakedness is bold, immodest and indecent, but not intimate. Not even the sight of her exposed bits change that. Her genitals are comically small, and her jiggling tits look decorative under their large nipple rings. Only the stretch marks running over her hips and upper buttocks break the illusion, intimately out of place.

The elevator is empty when it arrives, but it fills up as it descends. Some of the fellow riders do a double take when they first see the naked girl, uhm, cute boy standing just behind the sliding doors. I hold his hand, he is not entirely on his own. He does not say a thing. I stare insolently at his ringed nipples, his soft tits and the navel ring in the center of his flat, soft belly. It would be a waste of my time not to. Somebody asks of a woman in her thirties "Why is she wearing no clothes?" and receives no answer. "What is that yellow thing in her behind? Can I get one too?" I purse my lips. Stella looks bored and focuses upon an invisible point in front of her. Nobody in the elevator laughs.

We make our way through the building lobby, through the alley in front and to the nearby street. There's a convenience store right across.

I pull a crumpled note from my pocket and hand it to Stella: "Would you be so kind as to get us a couple of sodas?"

"Anything else?" she asks.

I haven't thought of that, but I recognize it's a potent idea. "That's it. Nothing else."

I watch her from across the street making her way confidently into the store, walking to the soft drink refrigerators and picking up two cans, then to the counter and paying for the stuff. She returns with the sodas and the change.

She stands in front of me, arms extended. I'd rather check her out then relieve her hands. Smooth legs, soft abdomen, girly hips, sexy ass visible from a small angle... this girl is made for fucking -- and not just any kind of fucking. Very serious fucking. It would be a real shame if somebody did not enjoy this body tonight.

"Could you get some crunchy bars, too? Sorry, I should have thought of it the first time."

She leaves the cans with me and goes back to get the bars. When I ask her to go again a third time, she starts laughing. She knows what I am doing, but complies anyway.

When she's back again I take her to the park between the building and its sister towers. It's more of a green space than a park. Still people, mostly youths are up and about. I throw everything Stella bought in a trash bin along the way. The day is still bright as we sit on a bench. I put my arm over her shoulders. We lean back, legs spread. A give her kisses, small and big. My hand leaves her opposite side for the occasional tit squeeze or inner thigh brush.

People pass by, some paying no attention, some turning their heads. There's the cheering from boys, the hand covered gasps from girls, the encouragements and explicit suggestions from a few well wishing citizens. More than a few compliments are shouted to Stella.

We take a leisurely stroll around the place. I keep my hand on her hip or the softest part of her butt. We stop mid alley for longer face to face kisses. We watch a game of volleyball for a few minutes. There's not a word we say to each other.