Falling for Dad's Slut Ch. 04 - Sex Stories

Falling for Dad's Slut Ch. 04

... with only a few other travelers.

Stella wears a very short blue dress and sandals. She's less adorned than usual, but going to the beach on a rainy day it'd be pointless to do more. She still has her usual tongue, lip, nipple and navel bars and rings on, she did not skimp on those. On her neck, she has a blue collar, with a large ring attached. The cut of her dress is so low her nipples almost pop out. Stella need only lean forward a little, and the dress sags, leaving her tits, nipples and rings open for examination.

The car has only a row of seats on each side, facing each other. She sits opposite me. She brings her feet on the seat, under her butt, her knees in front of her shoulders. The front of the dress goes over her legs, the back drops under the ass. Her legs are spread enough. Would you guess the color of her panties? I stare at her exposed male genitals, biting my lip and suffering the tightness of my pants. I want to be mean to her.

The rain has turned into a drizzle when we disembark at the last station. We're not at the beach yet, two more clicks to go. We can take the bus or we can walk there. We choose the latter.

I like this neighborhood. It's quiet and clean. The streets are straight and cross at right angles. The many colored, two storey houses rest right next to each other, packed in tightly.

My mother, Irene, lives not far from here, in a slightly more upscale area. I got my pretty boy looks from her. We're still close. Any closer and I'd ...

... be gay.

We talk and we meet often, once every few days. And we have our monthly formal meeting. Last time she asked, like she always does, how I have been. I had no plans of telling her about my gay friend (I have said I am not gay, haven't I?), but since she asked...

"I've been seeing someone lately." I said.

"Stella?"

I was dumbstruck. How did she know? What did she know? Then I realized that, of course, it would have been stranger if she hadn't known.

"Close your mouth, sweetheart. You're drooling over my table."

"Do you know her?" I asked.

"I've seen her on your father's arm... From what I gather, she's a slut, not a whore... Perhaps it would have been for the better if she were a whore... She's a pretty thing... Have fun with her... Don't get attached."

It stung. I put her words hurriedly behind me, pretending they had not been said, that they meant nothing. So much for introducing Stella to my parents and telling them that she's the girl -- ahem, man -- of my dreams. No matter, the notion of one day calling the slut mine and me hers loses nothing of its potency. It's bold, brisk, gripping, thrilling.

Back in the present, I turn to look at her by my side. She smiles. I like her smile. I tighten my grip on her hand. What am I even doing? That's not the proper way to hold a girl. I release her hand and put mine on her opposite hip, under her dress, baring her bottom.

We walk for fifteen more minutes in the fine rain, on wet, mostly deserted ...