0 comments/ 37873 views/ 2 favorites Stella By: Cal Y. Pygia Donald Pleasant had never had any doubts about Stella. To him, she was the most beautiful, sexiest woman alive. They'd been dating for three years when they'd gone to Glitz Gurlz Bar and Grille, a lesbian lounge that Stella, more out of curiosity than for any other motive, had long wanted o visit. Donald and Stella had been intimate so many times in those three years that each knew every inch of the other's body--all the hot spots, all the erogenous zones. They played each other as a musician plays an instrument, helping one another reach the pinnacle of ecstasy each and every time they made love, which, if anything, had become more, not less frequent, over the years. Despite their intimate knowledge of one another, they were as much in love as ever; in their case, familiarity most definitely had not bred contempt. Had the drunken patron in Glitz Gurlz Bar and Grille known the high esteem in which the devoted couple held one another, she might never have done what she did. Of course, had she been sober, she might not have done so, either. Some people just can't hold their liquor and, drunk, they might take it upon themselves to do anything, regardless of how cruel, crude, or crass. This woman called herself La-la-la-Lola, or just Lola for short, and, as a lesbian, she fancied herself a connoisseur of feminine pulchritude. She had quite a discriminating eye (she thought) for the ladies, her own so-so looks notwithstanding, and, naturally, she was interested in Stella from the moment that she walked into the dingy dive. The attentiveness with which she regarded Stella reminded Donald of the manner in which the Hungarian voice coach had regarded Eliza Doolittle at the embassy ball she'd attended in the company of Professor Higgins and Colonel Pickering. Lola seemed as intent upon exposing Stella, so to speak, as some kind of fraud as the Hungarian had been intent upon exposing Eliza, the presumed duchess, as a charlatan. Lola watched Stella's every move, taking careful note of how she rotated her wrists, how she drank, how she pursed her lips, how she winked or rolled her eyes, how she powdered her nose or cheek, how she crossed and uncrossed her legs, how she crossed or uncrossed her arms, how she inspected her fingernails, how she breathed. When Donald asked Stella to dance, Lola watched how Stella followed her boyfriend's lead and how she held his hand. "I think you have a not-so-secret admirer," Donald whispered to Stella as they moved about the dance floor, as graceful as figure skaters performing a ballet on ice. Stella blushed. "I don't think she's admiring me. I think she's studying me, as if I were a rat in a maze." "Don't be silly. Why would she do that?" "I think she's suspicious of me." "Suspicious of you? In what way?" Stella raised an eyebrow. "You know." "What?" Donald laughed aloud at his girlfriend's misgiving. "That's preposterous!" Stella didn't seem all that reassured. "Do you think so?" He chuckled. "Of course. It's absurd. Believe me, you have no reason to worry." "None?" "Not in the least." "I love you." "I love you, too." Stella thought about Donald's reassurances. He was right, of course. It was preposterous of her to suppose that this drunken lesbian would discern the truth about her. Stella and Donald had gone out countless times during the three years they'd been together, and no one had ever supposed that Stella was anything other than what she purported to be--a beautiful, sexy woman, intelligent, charming, and sophisticated, such as any most women envied and all men admired. She giggled. "I guess I was being a little silly." "That's okay," Donald said. "Any woman as gorgeous and sexy as you can be as silly as she wants." The music ended, and Donald and Stella, walking hand in hand, returned to their table. Stella whispered to Donald, "She's watching me again--studying me. It gives me the creeps." "Want me to say something to her? Tell her to keep her eyes off my girlfriend?" Stella considered Donald's offer. "No," she decided. "Let her look." "She can look," Donald agreed, "but she'd better not touch!" Stella laughed. After Donald had seated Stella, he took his own seat, across from her. In the dimly lit lounge, Stella somehow seemed more ravishing than usual. He studied her, but not the way Lola did. Whereas the lesbian examined Stella with a critical eye, as if she were measuring and evaluating and judging her, Donald regarded her with admiration, appreciation, and love. Stella was beautiful--every bit as lovely as any model or actress, and lovelier than most. She had long, curly, dark tresses that fell below her sculpted shoulder blades, perfectly symmetrical features--wide, dark eyes, with thick, luxuriant lashes, a slender, pert nose, and full, sensuous lips, soft and pink as rosebuds. She had a long, slender neck, and full, high, round breasts that were soft yet firm and sleek as silk. Her stomach wasn't merely flat; it was concave, and her hips were as girlishly slim as her legs were long and smooth. Her back was delicate, and her buttocks were sleek, firm, round--and dimpled! She was a goddess among women. No wonder Lola the Lesbian couldn't keep her eyes off her, Donald thought. Well, Lola could look, but she'd better keep her hands to herself. Stella was his woman, and he sure as hell wasn't about to share her with anyone else, especially a damned dyke. Across the room, Lola rose, teetering. A drink in hand, she staggered across the lounge, bumping and grazing tables as she made her way toward Donald and Stella, earning angry glances from the female couples whose chairs she jostled. She reached Donald's and Stella's table and stood, swaying like a palm tree in a heavy breeze. The clear liquor sloshed about in her long-stemmed glass. Donald scowled, to indicate that Lola was not welcome. Stella, always the lady, offered their visitor a smile--albeit a faint smile--and asked, "Can we help you?" "Maybe you can," Lola said. Her speech was slurred. "I'm curious about something." "What's that?" Donald inquired, his tone decidedly unfriendly. Lola pitched sideways, her eyes widening. Donald hoped she might fall on her drunken ass, but Lola managed to right herself. Unfortunately, in the process, she also spilled her drink in Stella's lap. "Oh, dear!" Lola cried, mock horror on her face. "Let me mop up my mess, before it stains your beautiful dress!" She pulled a wadded handkerchief from her purse and started dabbing at the spreading wet patch in Stella's lap. "That's quite all right," Stella said, scowling. "I can manage." "No, no!" Lola insisted. "I spilled it; the least I can do is clean up the mess I've made." "No," Stella insisted, her tone adamant, "stop!" Lola's eyes widened, and her mouth gaped. "You're a man!" she cried. "Just as I thought, you have male genitals--a penis and testicles!" Heads turned toward Donald and Stella--and Lola. "You're mistaken," Donald stated firmly. "There's no mistaking what I felt!" Lola cried. "This lady is no lady! She's a he--a man!" "You're drunk," Donald declared, anger harshening his voice. "Drunk and mistaken." "No, you're the one who's mistaken," Lola retorted, "if you think he's a she!" "Leave us alone," Donald ordered. Lola dabbed at Stella's crotch with the handkerchief. "A man!" she shrieked. Donald stood. Roughly, he grabbed Lola's forearm and shoved it away from Stella's lap. "Keep your filthy, drunken hand off my girlfriend!" he warned. Stella stood, too. "Let's go," she pleaded. "I have a good mind to belt this bitch," Donald declared. "Let's just go, Donald, please," Stella implored. Donald gazed at Lola for a long moment. The drunken woman staggered away from him, returning to her own table. The women at the tables turned back to their own conversations. It was obvious that they were unconcerned with Lola's drunken accusations. Stella slipped her hand over Donald's forearm. "I've seen all I want to see of this place," she announced. "Take me home, please." He kissed her cheek. "All right. I'd rather be home with you, in bed, than here or anywhere else, anyway." They made their way toward the exit, passing Lola's table on their way. She was slumped in her chair, her drink spilled on the table before her. Her hair, like her makeup, was a terrible mess, and her dress was wrinkled and stained. Donald would have felt sorry for her, had she not insulted Stella. Recalling the drunken woman's rude, crude behavior toward his girlfriend, however, all Donald felt toward Lola was white-hot anger. He looked down at the half-conscious woman. "Brazen lesbo bitch!" he said. Stella Her nylons were a mess, runs and ladders all over, but she still had her high heels on. Her bra and panties were nowhere to be seen and it was obvious from the dried (and wet) cum stains all over her face and pubic area that more than one guy had taken advantage of her. I knew from experience that when she woke up she wouldn't be able to tell who or how many. I also knew that she would be contrite, beg forgiveness and promise that it would never happen again and that she would mean it at the time. But I also knew it would only be two, maybe three days before it would happen again. Still, she did look sexy lying there on the floor, legs spread wide and ready for the next man to come along. Her tits, not at all saggy considering that she was forty-one, looked real inviting with their half-inch nipples and I shook my head in disgust as I got ready to perform the final indignity on her. I undressed and climbed between her outstretched legs, lined my cock up with her cum filled pussy, grabbed her hips and pulled her to me. I fucked her for almost ten minutes as she moaned and tossed, loving the feel of her sloppy, wet pussy and finally I spit out my sperm to commingle with all that the unknown others had left behind. When my cock was limp I leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead and said, "Thanks Mom" and then I gathered my clothes and went to my room. Stella wasn't really my mother - she was my stepmother. Dad had married her a year ago, two years after my mother died in an accident. What dad didn't know until after the wedding (several months after the wedding) was that Stella was an alcoholic. She had apparently been on the wagon when she and dad had met and had been able to stay on it until about six months after the wedding. When Stella did fall off the wagon it changed my life. I went from being an overweight nerd to being a creep. A harsh thing to call myself, but totally justified considering my behavior and my refusal to stop what I was doing. The first day Stella fell off the wagon was the day I lost my virginity. My dad works swing shift, usually leaving home around two-fifteen in the afternoon and not getting back home until twelve-thirty or one. It was summer and I was home from school and working part time at Wal-Mart, but on that particular day I was off. Stella got in her car and left just after my dad went to work. I was in my room, which has a window that overlooks the driveway; my lights were out because I had my telescope trained on the full moon and I was trying to find the craters that were on a chart that I had. Stella's car pulled into the drive and another car pulled in behind her. A man got out of the driver's side of Stella's car and started to walk around to the passenger door. Another man got out of the other car and joined the first man and helped him get Stella out of the car and carry her to the house. I heard them come in the front door and when after five minutes or so and the men hadn't left I went to see what was going on. As I approached the head of the stairs I heard a voice say: "She's not bad looking for a drunk" and another voice said, "God, but she's tight. She must not get fucked much." Being curious I stupidly walked to the banister and looked downstairs to see that they had Stella on the couch, dress up to her waist, panties pulled off and one of the men was fucking her. Her eyes were open and her head was rolling from side to side and she was moaning, but if I had to guess I would have said that she didn't have a clue as to what was going on. The first guy got off of her and the second guy got on and I stood there and watched. I must have made a sound because one of the men looked up and saw me. "Hey" he called, "Get your ass down here." I was frightened and wanted to run, but there wasn't anyplace I could run to and he was between me and the door downstairs. "Come on kid, get your ass down here." I went down and he said, "Take your pants off." I just looked at him and he said, "I said get your god damned pants off, now!" I took them off. "The jockeys too" he said. I was standing there naked when the man fucking Stella got off of her. "Okay kid, your turn." I didn't understand what he was saying and the other man said, "Get on her kid and put your dick in her." The first man said, "Yeah, once you do her you won't be able to say shit about us without burning yourself. Go ahead, fuck her." I shook my head no, "I can't. It wouldn't be right." "Oh yes you can and you will. Do it on your own and get some pleasure out of it or I'll punch your lights out and we will set you on top of her and take a picture. Either way, you will put your dick in her." I hesitated and he moved toward me and pushed me toward the couch, "Do yourself a favor kid; fuck her and save yourself some pain. Hell, she ain't gonna know that her own kid fucked her anymore than she knew we did." I looked down at Stella on the couch, legs spread and inviting. I'd had a hard cock ever since I looked over the railing at what was going on; I looked from one man to the other and then I crawled on Stella and gave up my virginity. When I was done the two men fucked her one more time each and then they left. As they were going out the front door one of them turned and said: "If she keeps coming down to Al's Bar and getting sloshed you'll probably see us again." Then he grinned, "Don't do nothing we wouldn't do" and he left. I looked at Stella lying on the couch and then I went over and fucked her again. I decided that I couldn't let my dad find her like that so I wrestled her up stairs, undressed her, cleaned her up and put her to bed. I went back to my room and thought about what I had just done. I didn't really have a choice in the matter, at least the first time, I wasn't big enough or strong enough to have fought off those two guys. Then I wondered what the consequences would be if Stella wasn't totally out of it and told my dad what I had done. He wouldn't care why, just that I had. The more I sat there and thought about it though, the harder my dick got. I realized that dad could only kill me once and so I went back and fucked Stella one more time. When I was done I stood off to the side of the bed and watched her, tits rising and falling as she breathed and damned if I didn't get hard again. I fucked her for the fourth time that night and that time she moaned a little and I thought I felt her hips pushing up at me and I wondered if she was waking up. I got off of her and ran to my room and finished myself off by hand. I was awake when my dad got home and I layed there in my bed expecting him to come barging through the door at any minute. He didn't and nothing was said the next day either. I kept a close eye on Stella to see if she would act any different toward me, but she didn't. ++++++++++++++++++ The next day I worked until nine in the evening and Stella was gone when I got home. Around ten-thirty I was again looking through my telescope when two cars again pulled into the drive. One was Stella's, but the other one wasn't the same one from the night before. There were two men, but neither one was familiar. This time they didn't bring Stella inside, just fucked her on the back seat of her car and then they left her there with the door open and the dome light on. I had no desire to see my dad go to jail and he was going to kill her if he came home and found her like that. I went down to see if I could manage to get her up to bed before he got home. It wasn't easy, but I managed to get it done. I got her dirty, cum stained clothes off of her and tossed them into the dirty clothes and then I got a wash rag and cleaned her pussy up as good as I could. That was a mistake because it gave me a hard on. I tweaked her nipples and she moaned, but gave no other indication that she knew what was going on so I took off my pants and fucked her and as I banged away I wondered what she would feel like if I was the first one to get to her. I had no frame of reference because I was a virgin when the men had made me fuck her, but I did know that I liked the feel of her. I fucked her three times before cleaning her up one last time and going off to my own room. The next night when I got home from work I pulled into the driveway just as three men were bringing Stella home. Two of the men were from the first night and I worked up enough courage to approach them and in a quavering voice I asked them if they would please carry her up to the bedroom. "I have to get her up there and clean her up before my dad gets home or he'll kill her. I almost couldn't do it when she got left in the car last night." One guy laughed and said, "Sure kid, we would rather have her on the bed anyway." They got Stella upstairs, undressed her and put her on the bed and then they took turns on her for the next two hours. Stella moaned and thrashed about under them, but I was sure she didn't really know what was happening to her. When they had finished and were leaving one of them said, "She's all yours kid, enjoy" and they all laughed as they headed for the front door. I looked at the clock and saw that I had enough time so I fucked her twice before doing the usual cleanup and going to my own room. +++++++++++++++++ This went on for the next three weeks and sometimes I fucked her and sometimes I didn't. Of course Stella was good on the weekends when my dad was home, but as soon as he was gone on Monday she went down to Al's Bar, got shit faced and was taken advantage of by anywhere from two to five guys. Then one Thursday while I was sitting at home watching the TV the phone rang and when I answered it a voice said: "That you kid?" I recognized the voice and said that it was. "We ain't bringing her home tonight. There are too many guys here for us to argue with. They're doing her out in the parking lot so you may want to come down and get her." When I got to Al's half and hour later I found one guy fucking her and five guys lined up waiting. I looked at my watch and saw that I had two hours before I absolutely had to get her home so I stood and waited. When they were all done I drove her home, got her upstairs and undressed and got her on the bed. I remembered what the man had said, "Too many to argue with." I wondered how many that was which led to my wondering what she felt like which led to my fucking her to find out. I sure hoped my dad didn't want to fuck her when he got home. He might wonder why he couldn't feel the sides. I was off the next day and when dad left for work and Stella started getting ready to go to the bar I told her not to leave without me. She looked at me and said, "What?" "I said don't leave without me. I need to pick up my car." "Where is your car?" "It's down at AL's Bar." "At Al's Bar? Why would I be going down to Al's Bar?" "I don't know. To get drunk or laid or both, but that's where I had to go and get you last night in order to get you home and into bed before dad got here." She looked at me with shock and surprise, "You put me to bed? You undressed me and you've seen me naked?" "You really don't know? She sat down on the side of the bed and looked at me like I was crazy, "You have actually undressed me and put me to bed and seen me naked?" She was either a damned good actress or she really didn't know, so I told her about everything she'd done (and had done to her, omitting my getting my share) and how I had been getting her cleaned up and into bed before dad got home. "You watched me? You saw them do..." and he voice trailed off. "I couldn't do anything else. There were always more of them than me and besides, they were all grown men and I'm just a kid so I couldn't fight them. I couldn't call the cops because then dad would find out and I didn't think you would want that. All I could do was clean you up and get you in bed so dad wouldn't find out." Then she surprised me, "Oh you poor baby. To have had to watch and then cleanup the mess. Oh baby, I'm sorry" and she came over to me and hugged me. I was very much aware of her tits pushing into my chest and of my erection rising up. She felt it too, the erection I mean, and she pulled away from me. "Let me get my purse and we will go and get your car. She dropped me at my car and as I drove away I saw her going into Al's. I wondered how much longer this could go on before my dad found out. Two hours later Stella came home. She had a couple of shopping bags with her and she set the bags on the counter and started emptying them; two bottles of vodka, two of Seven Crown and a half a dozen bottles of mix. She opened up a bottle of vodka and a bottle of tonic water and made herself a drink - a big one. I went on up to my room and fifteen minutes later Stella walked into my room, drink in hand, and sat down on my bed. "Daniel, tell me again about the last three weeks." I described each time and she would interrupt and ask me things like how many were there, what did they say, what did they do and things like that. When I finished telling her the previous nights story she said: "And you have no idea how many?" And I told her that I had only seen the six that were there when I got there. "Are you sure that your father doesn't know?" I shrugged. She was quiet for several moments and then said, "When the men were gone Daniel, did you do anything to me? Besides clean me up and put me to bed?" The denial was on my lips, but before I could get it out she said, "Of course you did. I suppose it was only fair considering what you were doing for me. Still, it probably wasn't very good for you, being last in line. You never got to be first, did you? No, of course not." She looked at her glass, "Oops, empty. Be right back" and she got up and left. Five minutes later she walked back into the room, fresh drink in hand and not one stitch of clothing on her body. She sat down on the edge of the bed: "Today Daniel, you get to be first. Actually, today you may get to be first and only. I don't think I'm going to Al's anymore. Daniel, have you ever eaten my pussy when the men were done with me?" She saw the look on my face, "Pity, some men really seem to like it. Come over here Daniel. I'm going to teach you how to eat pussy." The rest of the afternoon went from there. Stella had me eat her pussy (a first for me), she sucked my cock (another first) and then she fucked me. Then we started all over and did the same stuff again. By the time we quit Stella was almost bombed (she had been drinking all afternoon) and I expected that I was going to have do the cleanup and put her to bed routine. But she managed to get up and started toward her room, but then stumbled, "I guess I'm going to need your help again baby." I helped her to the bedroom and she turned and put her arms around me and kissed me, "Thanks for taking care of me baby" and I set her down on the bed and left the room. The next day when I got home from work Stella wasn't there and I wondered what this night would bring. At nine I heard a car pull into the drive and I peeked through the blinds and saw that it was Stella and she was alone. She was having trouble getting out of the car and so I went out and helped her into the house. "Thank you baby, help me upstairs, will you?" I got her upstairs and onto the bed and then I undressed her. I turned to go and she said, "What's the matter Daniel, don't you want me any more?" I turned to look and she spread her legs, "Come here baby. Eat my pussy, please?" She looked so sexy and inviting that I went over and did what she'd asked me to. As soon as my tongue touched her I knew that she had been fucked. I looked up at her and she giggled: "Only two baby, only two in the parking lot and then I hurried home to you." I had eaten her the day before after I had cum in her and it hadn't killed me and I was curious so I went back to licking her pussy. It wasn't bad, maybe just a little saltier than mine had been. I licked and sucked her pussy for several minutes and then Stella said: "Enough Daniel. I need you to fuck me now. Come on baby, put your cock in me." We fucked three times and she sucked my cock once before I went to my own room. I layed on my back, staring up at the ceiling, and wondered what would happen when I went back to school the next week. Who would clean her up and put her to bed before dad got home and who would drive down to Al's after the gangbang to bring her home. ++++++++++++++++++++ Stella was saved by the economy. Things got slow where dad worked and he was laid off which meant that he was around all the time and Stella couldn't go to the bar. Dad had a lot in savings and he decided to do handyman type work to make a few bucks on the side and to collect his unemployment until he got called back. He still wasn't back to work when I came home for the holidays. Things were a little awkward between Stella and me when we didn't have an alcoholic haze between us. On my third day back Stella came to my room. "Miss me Daniel? Miss my lips closing on your cock?" She started shedding clothes, "Miss my pussy baby? We have four hours before your dad gets home. Let's not waste them." The rest of the time I was home when my dad left to go somewhere Stella would come looking for me. The same pattern repeated itself at Spring break and again during my summer vacation. Stella was still an alcoholic, but she managed to hide it from dad; she had a vodka bottle in a pair of boots in the closet, one hidden behind the washing machine and God only knew where else. I could have cared less. As long as she was sucking my cock and fucking me she could do anything she damn well pleased. I almost hated going back to school in the fall and leaving all that good pussy behind. Dad's being out of work had no effect on my going to school. My mother had taken out an insurance policy with me as the beneficiary and it was paying for my car, my schooling and my living expenses. I had an apartment half a mile from campus and one night about six weeks in to the fall term I was in my apartment working on a term paper when there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find Stella standing there. I stepped back and let her in and she walked over and sat down on the couch. "You helped me before Daniel, can you help me again?" I asked her what was up and she told me that my dad had been called back to work, she had gone to Al's for a couple of drinks and dad had come home to find her on the living room couch with cum all over the place. "He threw me out Daniel. Just pushed me out the front door and threw my clothes out after me. Can I stay with you Daniel? At least till I can find a job and a place of my own?" I couldn't very well say no to the only piece of ass I'd ever had so I told her yes, but that she could never, ever answer the phone, "The last thing I need is for dad to call and for you to answer the phone." Stella never did find a job or a place of her own. She stayed with me, fucked me all I wanted and then some. Then one day some buddies of mine stopped by while I was out, but Stella was there and she had been drinking. After a couple of hours of taking turns on her they left and took her with them back to the frat house. I didn't find out about it until three hours later when I came home and found a note on the kitchen table. It's been that way ever since. Sometimes I have to go to the frat house to get her, other times I come home to find like she was that night, and still other times I'll come home to find her waiting in bed for me. The guys all think she's my mother and I haven't told them otherwise, for shock value more than any other reason. But there is something very weird going on that I don't understand. Girls that never had any thing to do with me before have started showing an interest in me and I know that most of them have heard about my "mother." I wonder what that is supposed to mean. Whatever, I don't know how long I'm going to have my very own resident drunken slut, but I do hope it is at least until I graduate. Stella When I was a kid my best friend Tony's mother was the woman of my erotic dreams! Stella Winters was a 5'7", Barbie doll faced gorgeous, MILF, with big almond shaped hazel-green eyes, thick just below her shoulders curly fiery-red hair, and a very overripe 36HH-24-38 hourglass figure that everyone in town took notice of. Since my parents were friendly with the Winters we did a lot together including camping, picnics, and days at the lake. Stella drew a lot of attention in her overstuffed one-piece swimsuits. One day when I was eighteen went to see Tony after work. We liked to hang out at the lake to flirt with the girls and get some sun. Even as a teenager I prided myself as a boy next-door, with thick wavy dirty-blonde hair, big blue eyes, and a well-toned and smooth body that girls liked. I knocked on the backdoor only to find it was ajar. I stepped in the house and called out for Tony, no one answered although the television was on. I was shocked to see the house a mess, drawers were pulled out and items tossed around. I heard some thumping upstairs and after seeing the downstairs grew concerned. I went up to investigate! I looked in Tony's bedroom, it was a mess, the guest room was no better, the master bedroom was even worse! I heard muffled meows and thumps in the bathroom. I managed to push the door open after three tried, it always looked so easy on the TV cop shows. I stood dumbfounded as I looked on the bathroom floor! Poor Stella struggled on the floor, she was hogtied with three pairs of her own nude pantyhose, a balled up worn white panty girdle was jammed in her mouth with a wide black cloth wrapped over her pouty red lips four times, she was soaked in sweat and her overstuffed red bra, barely contained her huge breasts and her tiny blood-red nipples were slightly exposed, her red thigh length panty girdle was soaked in sweat her own urine and a three grapefruit sized blob of stale smelly golden-brown feces was in the seat! She squirmed and meowed incoherently as I just stared! The front of my red Speedo tented out prominently as I looked at the most beautiful woman I ever knew struggled in tight bondage while gagged with her own worn panty girdle! I should have freed her right away, but was too aroused and stunned! I finally went to her rescue. I awkwardly cut the pantyhose from her hands and ankles, as my hand touched the back of her poop filled panty girdle. I had a climax before I finally helped her get loose. She spit out the dirty panty girdle and rushed to a phone. I followed her and stayed with her until the police arrived. The next three years were like a daytime soap opera, her husband Fred was a compulsive gambler and womanizer, he was so badly in debt a couple men invaded the house to collect some items to offset what he owed plus allow him to file an insurance claim. He left town on business the week the house was robbed and the night before invited Tony to join him to see a baseball game, leaving just his gorgeous wife alone in the house, forgetting which day she played bridge with the other ladies in the neighborhood, or did he? After high school and three years in the Army, I moved away, got a good job, married, divorced, and settled down. I stayed in touch with my parents, and went to the 20th class reunion. I lost track of Tony, but while visiting town decided to see Mrs. Winters. It was more just to admire the buxom cougar than say 'Hello', but my mother insisted, since I did spend a lot of time at the house. I was glad I did. Even at 60-years-old, but looked no more than my age thirty-eight, was a stunningly beautiful woman, and her red knit dress, wide black belt, matching 4" highheels, and nude controltop pantyhose showed off her dangerous curves almost obscenely. We sat in the livingroom and chatted, caught up on old and present times. I felt awkward, because my thick circumcised 7" penis struggled in my tight jeans during the entire conversation. "Terry, you really turned into a handsome young man." Stella smiled as she stared right at the crotch of my jeans. "Do you still wear a Speedo?" Boy did that catch me off guard. I guess I was handsome, being 5'11" and a well-toned and tanned 180 pounds, with thick clean-cut dirty-blonde hair and big blue eyes, didn't have too much trouble finding dates, but never heard that comment from Stella before. She then brought up the robbery, which really made my cock hard! "You were so excited that you didn't even untie me right away." She said. I blushed from embarrassment as my jeans tented out in the front. "You are so pretty." I blurted. "An old woman like me?" Stella blushed as she picked up my empty coffee cup. "Do you still wear bikini briefs Terry?" "Yes." I said proudly. "Do you want to see?" "Please." Stella ran a long well-manicured red fingernail across the bulge in my jeans and made me cum! "What will I get if I show you?" I saw an opportunity. "What do you want?" Stella teased as she went to the kitchen making sure I noticed her hips swing. "To tie you up!" I went for a homerun! "Is that all?" She smiled. "Pretend I find you all tied up and gagged again!" I suggested. "Then we can play it from there." "Of course if I was tied up and gagged for say six hours I might be messy, even stink." Stella was setting up the scene for our role-play. "It would be just awful! Me bound and gagged with one of my own worn panty girdles, in my underwear!" "I would have to help clean you up." I offered ahead of time. "May-be even comfort you." A half hour later I had Stella's hands secured behind her back, her pantyhose clad ankles tied together and a pair of pantyhose tied to her ankles and hands to hogtie her. I found her dirtiest white panty girdle and stuffed it in her willing mouth and wrapped a 4" wide ace bandage around her full red lips five times! She immediately got into the role of a damsel-in-distress and began to meow through her panty girdle stuffed mouth as I double checked her restraints. I had to admit the leopard print bra she had on was a wonderful prop and really emphasized her ample breasts and even tiny blood-red nipples, and her nude controltop pantyhose emphasized her plump bottom and narrow waistline. I was ready to climax! I left the room and went to my car and as luck would have it had a shiny red Speedo in my gym bag. I went to Tony's old room and slipped into it, no easy task for a man with a major erection. I then waited by the bathroom door for her signal. She banged against the toilet three times! I opened the door and gasp in shock! "Oh my God!" She meowed through her panty girdle stuffed mouth and pretended to be scared as she wet herself with warm amber pee and to my surprise farted loudly! I was so excited as I stood and admired the helpless buxom cougar that I could barely contain myself! I asked the effectively gagged damsel what happened. Stella played it up and meowed through her gagged mouth as she blasted a few stinkers that sounded like busted balloons! I knelt down and ran a hand across her pantyhose clad derriere and felt a smelly, hard, fat, hot, solid, shiny bronze, turd ooze out of her tight bumhole and explored the interior of her pantyhose! I came as she continued to mess in her pantyhose on purpose this time as she peed again! She moaned loudly as she rode the tile floor to a climax as the last of the hefty odorous four melon sized fecal deposit almost split her nude controltop pantyhose apart at the seams! She climaxed extremely hard as I pulled out my hard cock and spurted semen all over her fresh toilet blocker that smelled like an outhouse! I should have untied her after that, but instead lay beside her and ran my hand across her fresh poopload and kept her aroused. She purred through her skidmarked panty girdle as I stroked her huge load of smelly poops. I had a feeling she pooped in her underwear often. I stood up and pulled out my cock and this time pissed on her poop filled pantyhose! She meowed happily as the warm amber urine soaked her and soon humped the wet floor to another series of orgasms! I finally untied her hands and ankles and helped the gagged buxom redhead into the shower with me. She slowly removed the ace bandage and sodden worn panty girdle and kissed me passionately. I helped her remove her overstuffed bra and ruined pantyhose and she took off my Speedo. I entered her wet vagina with my hard penis under the hot shower and we both had wonderful climaxes! Later that night I mounted her from behind and fucked her tight asshole! She stuffed my Speedo in her mouth and stroked her clitoris as I rammed her poopshoot. We finally collapsed on the queen sized bed, exhausted and sexually satisfied! The next morning I took her out to breakfast where she confessed to being a full blown pants poopers and bondage lover, although it was mostly self-bondage and her previous lovers were disgusted with her scat play. She had a feeling I would be a willing partner and hoped her bowel movement would excited me like the first time I saw her tied up and gagged. It did and then some. I had to return to my home, but not before we decided that she would visit me and try more erotic watersports and bondage. I can't wait to see Stella again!!! Stella She stroked her cock with one hand and watched him, watched the combination of fear and desire stutter across his face. He was a good looking man, married, mid-thirties, a little paunchy but nice definition through his chest and shoulders. His hair was close-cropped and brown. His eyes were brown, too. He had a delicious ass, and a serviceable, if not impressive penis. She wondered, as she always did, what brought him to her feet. He had long lashes, dark, silky. They rested on his cheeks when he caught her watching him; it was an animal game. When their eyes met hers, they were always the first to look away, to roll over and expose that soft, vulnerable under-belly. She was Dominant. He was standing across the room, naked. His hands kept wanting to shield his member from her, but he'd force them back to his sides. She knew all the questions poised on the tip of his tongue. They were always the same. Where is everything? The chains, the hooks, the whips and floggers? What do I call you? Are you going to hurt me? The room was empty of everything except a four-poster bed covered by a crimson duvet. The only equipment she used was the strap on hugging her hips and occasionally, when requested, the soft ties lashed to the bed-posts. She'd be the first to admit that she wasn't your typical, leather-clad Dominatrix. There were no crops, no floggers, no collars or gags or chastity devices. Humiliation was not something she believed in, nor practiced. Her game was pleasure, for both of them. But mostly for him. She was paid to do to him what his partner was unwilling to do, or what he was unwilling to ask for from anyone else. He finally said it. "What do I call you?" "Mistress," she said. She felt powerful, rubbing the synthetic flesh jutting from her pubis. The black bustier made her large breasts appear larger, and pulled in her hourglass waist. Her hips were full and round, and her thighs thick. She wore a garter belt to hold up the patterned black stockings on her impossibly long legs, and her 6 inch heels put her well over six feet. They were simple, black, patent-leather with a mirror shine. "Yes, Mistress." he lowered his eyes again, but not before they flitted around the room once more. "Why are you here, Boy?" "Do you have to call me that?" The question was polite. But still. "Yes. On your knees, Boy." "Yes, Mistress." He knelt, his hands behind his back and chin on his chest. It made her wet when they did that. "Why are you here?" He cleared his throat. Sometimes they couldn't say it aloud. "Would you like to suck my cock?" "Yes, Mistress." "Crawl." He crawled obediently across the space between them and she felt her pulse quicken. She watched his penis begin its transformation. He knelt in front of her, and looked up, but didn't make eye contact. She used her black-gloved finger to trace the side of his face, almost tenderly; she swore she could feel his pulse in the room, the anticipation in it. She slipped her hand down, placed it firmly but gently on his throat, and cupped the back of his head with the other. "Look at me. Have you ever sucked a cock?" He tried to nod, but she held him still. "Speak." "Yes, Mistress." "Has it been some time? Is that why you're here?" "Yes, Mistress." She felt his Adam's apple bob beneath her hand as he swallowed. She knew nothing about him, other than that the background check and blood tests were clean. His check cleared. But she saw many of these 'cases.' Men with the kinds of sexual appetites that couldn't be satisfied through ordinary, monogamous relationships. Strong men with the weight of their worlds on their shoulders, who needed for a little while to be cared for, commanded. Her persona, the image she put out, was one of strength, hardness, maybe even a touch of cruelty; but what she felt each time a new face knelt before her was tenderness and respect. She thought of herself as a sex worker, but part of her loved some part of each lost little boy that wandered into her den. She needed to give as much as they needed to take. She thought of Harold, and the look of repulsion on his face when she'd whispered her fantasies to him. Together nearly a decade, that was how long it took her to gather the courage, to convince herself she wasn't a freak or an indigent. He stopped touching her after that. She'd asked him why, and he'd said, "Because I'm not queer, Stella." She held the Boy's head and throat and rested the realistic, flesh-colored and textured plastic on his lower lip. He put his tongue out and wet it, and met her eyes. She nodded, and he opened and let her slide the length of the dildo over his tongue. She slid back and forth, holding his eyes, the thrusting movement of her hips and the hungry look in his eyes enough to make her drip. She felt his hands on her thighs, and felt the moment sweeping over her. She pushed deeper and deeper, and he took it, all of it, eyes tearing. "Touch me," she said firmly. His hands slid up her thighs, and she felt his fingers part her, stroking, finding the heart beat at her center. When he let a finger slip inside her, he groaned around the cock in his mouth. She fucked his mouth, forbidding him to come. He clutched his throbbing erection, and she watched while his mind left. He was pushing it back, holding it off, wanting to please her. She pulled out of his mouth. "On the bed." He half-walked, half-crawled, and sat on its edge. "Do you want to taste me before I fuck you, Boy? " "Please, Mistress." He was back on his knees, and she draped one leg over his shoulder. His tongue lapped against her, and she willed stoicism. Her job was to feed his fantasies, to take him to the edge and back. As he buried himself deeper while grunting noises of appreciation and pleasure, she held still. When she couldn't take it any longer, she pushed him away. Her tone was severe. "On the bed, Boy. On your back. I'm going to spread you like a whore." "Yes, Mistress." His cock was raging, his balls tight against his body. She smiled a predatory smile while lubing the strap on. His breath rose and fell as he watched, and his skin pinked. She watched his face while her lubed and gloved fingers stroked from the tip of his cock, down the seam of his fat scrotum, across his perineum and circled his asshole. "Have you been fucked in the ass?" "Not in a long time, Mistress." As she played and teased around him, he tilted his head back and another sound escaped him. She pressed against him with one finger, working his cock at the same time with slow, lazy strokes. She slipped inside, and he groaned again. "What's that, Boy?" "Nothing, Mistress," but his breath was short. "Tell me." "Please Mistress. I want more." She slipped another inside, and fingered and stroked him to the edge again. "I want to come, Mistress, please," he panted. "No!" He made a tortured sound, and his cock softened in her hand. "Good, Boy." She pressed her cock against him. She was gentle at first, moving slowly, giving him only the tip. She loved this sight, the submission of his body, the beauty of a cock stretched over a soft belly, and watching him take her, take what she gave. As he relaxed, she began fucking him, slowly, inch by inch. "Jerk yourself," she ordered. She wanted to see him hard again. She wanted her hands free to press his thighs open and pinch and hold his nipples until he cried out. He grunted with each thrust, and his face contorted. She could imagine what he felt; it was one thing she loved about an ass-fuck. She knew what it felt like, she knew the exquisite sensation, and the building, full feeling, the tingling that raced down the legs and up into the belly. She didn't know what it felt like for him when he was the penetrator. But she knew what this felt like. It drove her, drove the rhythmic movement of her hips. As she fucked him, her own fantasies, always unfulfilled, crept in, and she imagined feeling a long, hard cock enter her from behind, and imagined the feeling of being fucked while fucking, pleasured while pleasing. She leaned down and took him in her mouth and sucked him hard. Harold would not approve. But that's why Harold now lived across the state. Without realizing it, she touched herself with one hand while she fucked him and pinched and smacked his thigh with the other. He was begging for her. He was trembling with the pleasure shooting through every nerve-ending in his body. He pleaded for release. She pushed him beyond where he thought he got off, and he rode it. He closed his eyes and fisted his cock, and when she finally gave permission, his sack sucked upward and his member jumped in his hand, and he exploded in a violent jet, one, then another, and another. She kept thrusting while he emptied, then she left him. She went through the concealed door at the back of the room. She would only see him again if he requested her, and most of them did. She leaned back against the door and let out a long shuddering sigh. She missed the lying together part. She missed the kisses and caresses over trembling skin. But she would never miss the hiding.