From user23@primenet.com Thu Feb 06 16:52:03 1997
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg
Subject: Lisa's TG Library: "Bimbo"
From: user23@primenet.com (Lisa Blades)
Date: 6 Feb 1997 14:52:03 -0700
BIMBO.TXT
Bimbo
The shrink you made me see says that I'm filled with rage
and self destructive impulses. Surprise! I could have told her that
right off and saved us all a lot of hassle. You also ordered me to
write an informal deposition about what happened, so here it is,
Judge Carmichael - the whole ugly story in a nutshell. Like you
made me swear, the truth and nothing but the truth.
I won't apologize for who I am and what I do. I'm twenty
years old and I've got maybe another five years to live, if I'm lucky
and God's careless, and I'll damned well enjoy every fucking day
I've got left. My congenital heart defect can't be fixed by anything
short of a transplant, which ain't going to happen. I dealt with that
fact a long time ago and decided to live fast and leave a drop
dead gorgeous corpse.
My sister used to tell me I was crazy for not saving the
insurance money we got when Mom and Dad were killed. She
wanted me to invest it, and pray for a bear stock market and
suitable a suitable heart donor. The odds against tripling my
money, finding a donor, and surviving the surgery were impossibly
long. Even the medicos you had check me out admit it. So, when
I turned fifteen, I ran away to Europe, bought myself some quasi-
legal cosmetic surgery and a new wardrobe.
I used to joke with my sister about it. I told her it was all
her fault. If she hadn't had a thing for Barbie dolls, I'd have grown
up normal instead of wanting to turn myself into a living version of her
toys. She never laughed. I inherited her collection - and the
benefits of another big insurance policy - when she was killed by a
drunk driver two years ago. So, bless her heart, she financed still
more elective surgery. To date, I've dropped close to a hundred
grand building my body.
When I wake up and roll out of bed to piss, here's what I
see in the mirrors that line my apartment walls: silky platinum
blonde hair that hangs down almost to my high, tight 35 inch ass.
A pair of the most perfect 38C tits that money can buy, topped by
nipples that make even my mouth water. A fragile looking 20 inch
waist, made possible by the removal of a pair of ribs, that makes my
melons seem even bigger. Some of the guys I've fucked have almost
been able to circle my waist with their hands. My face is an
image of seduction. Huge, haunting sea green eyes framed by
rich lashes, separated by a cute little nose. A pair of lush lips to
die for, custom designed to suck cock. And, my crowning glory, a
lovely little five inch long dick adorned by a sexy patch of trimmed
- and hinted, for your information - pubic hair. I could have gotten
rid of my appendage anywhere along the road, but I'd never seriously
considered that before. It's what got me into this mess.
I was horny and wanted to scratch my itch. Just a typical
night. If I don't get fucked at least once a day, I feel bad. I
lounged in a steamy oiled bath and got out feeling fantastic, my
skin gleaming. There's not a hair on my body anywhere I don't
want it, Judge. (Girls, let me tell you, electrolysis hurts like hell,
but it's worth the agony.) After blotting myself dry, I applied just
the right amout of scent under my tits, between my thighs, and in other
strategic places. I have my hair washed and trimmed at a salon
because I hate screwing with it, so I started in on my makeup.
Since that bastard attorney of mine wouldn't let me wear my real
face or normal clothes to court, you've never had a chance to
see me in my full glory.
In some ways, I'm pretty a pretty typical girl. Sometimes, I
want romance, so I call up a friend and suggest that he wine and
dine me before I fuck him senseless. Once in a great while, I want
to get really dressed and be taken to an opera or play and lick dick
in box seats. That particular night, I was in the mood for ultra-
sleaze. I painted my mouth as carefully as di Vinci working on a
Madonna, using a special long-wear lipstick the color of arterial
blood. Since it's never wet enough to suit me, I remedied that with
a durable gloss. Three coats of waterproof mascara and lots of
eyeliner later, I considered the dress I wanted to wear before
blending silver, green and gray shades of eyeshadow. The long,
hooked nails I saw you glancing at in court were already wearing
enamel that came close to matching my lipstick, which saved me
a late trip to the salon.
I stretched a black garter belt around my waist and rolled
up a pair of seamed, transparent real silk hose. I tucked my balls
up into my body cavity, flattened my sweet little dick between my
thighs with a tiny black bikini girdle, and wriggled into a
scandalous, mostly emerald green dress that looks like a snake
skin. It fits like one, too. My tits bulge over the bodice, and the
hem stops four inches below my crotch, showing off the top of my
hose. After buckling five inch green sandals onto my dainty feet,
adding earrings and a necklace bought to complement the dress,
and making minor adjustments, I lit a cigarette and admired the
effect.
One killer slut, ready to cruise.
I pretty much struck out at the two clubs I tried. Not
because there weren't dozens of men drooling over me, but
because none of them turned my crank. I played a little, letting a
few of them cop sly feels after they bought me drinks or lit my
cigarettes, dancing slow with them and grinding my tits against
their chests, feeling their hard-ons slide up and down my belly.
There's nothing I love more than glancing up into their glazed
eyes, feeling their strong hands cupping my ass cheeks, watching
them bend down to kiss my parted, eager ruby lips. I really get
into it. It never fails to turn me on big time, and that night was
no exception. But it was all just foreplay. I wanted something
different. Still, I almost lost my shit when I jacked one guy off
right on the dance floor, felt him fill his slacks with cum.
But, instead of letting him take me home, I went into the ladies'
room, slid my hard little dick through my fist, and licked my own
sperm from my palm. I fixed my makeup and left through a back
door.
I found Blake - really, he found me - about a block later. I
like to look like a street whore when I'm feeling raunchy, but for
some reason I'm seldom mistaken for one. I guess that's because
most johns are experienced enough to tell talented amateurs from
real pros. Anyway, Blake pulled to the curb beside me in that sexy
silver Italian sports car and looked me over and kind of stammered
when he asked me how much. I knew right away he was the one,
and what game to play. He looked kind of unsure of himself,
vulnerable or something. And his age was a plus, too. I figured a
young stud like him could fuck me all night long. So I leaned down
so he could get a better view of my tits and said a thousand bucks.
He didn't even blink an eye. Just for the record, I never did
collect, although once or twice I have, just for grins.
The dumb fuck took me home with him. What a sweet idiot!
Nobody who knows anything would take a hooker to a fucking mansion
like his! She'd be back with her pimp, a weapon, and a moving
van before the dude got his pants back on.
Anyway, Blake's cock was poking out like a flag pole and
neither of us could wait to get our hands on one another. I wanted
it to last a long time, though, so I made him go slow. After a kiss
that would have melted an iceberg, I asked for a drink. I smoked
and sipped and let him get his eyes full of me for about ten
minutes. The way he was eye fucking me was making me delerious,
and I told him so, in exactly those words. I asked him if he wanted
me to play with my tits while he masturbated. He nodded and
stammered out that he'd also like me to put on fresh lipstick and
smoke another cigarette.
I've run into that fetish before, and was happy to comply.
The only reason I smoke is because it's erotic. It won't be cancer
that kills me. I love my sexy mouth and one of my favorite ways to
turn guys on is by sucking smoke like it was their cocks. I didn't
tell him that my lipstick would endure almost anything. While he
watched like he was hypnotized, I got out my compact and slowly
spread fresh red - the normal, adorably smeary kind - over my
already scarlet lips. I was so hot I was ready to explode. I got
up and slowly sat beside him on the couch and asked him if I could
get his dick out so he could rub it. He nodded slackly. It was
splendid. Not too long, not too fat - exactly the way I like them.
I took the liberty of spreading a tasty oil I carry with me over it
with a lingering caress before wiping my hands and getting out my
cigarettes.
I offered him the lighter. I had to steady his hands with
mine to get the tobacco lit. The electricity between us took my
breath away. I've been with hundreds of guys, and I don't
remember any of them ever looking at me exactly that way. I'd
have sworn the poor dude was falling in love with me. The way he
watched me made me hyper-aware of every gesture I made. I've
been lots of people's fantasy fucks, but he made me feel indescribably
special, without even touching me. I'd never felt anything like that
before and was blown away. I wanted sex with him like I've never
wanted it before - and for the first time in my life, it wasn't pure
lust I was feeling.
We both stared at the bright red cicle on the cigarette filter,
and I couldn't help but groan when I released the smoke. My eyes
dropped to his cock and my free hand started massaging my tits. I
had to whisper when I asked him to lift them out of my dress so
he could see them. Once I stared talking, I couldn't stop. I hissed
when he grazed my nipples and damned near filled my girdle. I
confessed how hot he was making me, how I'd do anything to please him,
and I've never spoken truer words. I breathed smoke and lifted my tit
and exhaled in a tight plume on my swollen nipple. Elevating it a
little further, I licked that target with a practiced tongue, then
kissed it tenderly, leaving a beautiful scarlet double crescent on
my heaving, creamy flesh. I delicately bit the nipple while my hand
roamed over my other full globe. All the while, Blake was slowly
pumping his lovely cock, making little gasping sounds that matched
my own.
It was like the way my sister always said making love is
supposed to be. I thought she was full of bullshit until that night.
But Blake made a believer of me. Pretty ironic, huh? We weren't
even touching one another, but I felt him inside me - not just his
cock buried in my ass, but *him* - and I'm one hundred percent
positive he felt exactly the same way.
I was going nuts. I *wanted* him. I had to have him. But
there was more peace than urgency to it. The longer we waited,
the better it'd be. So I tortured myself like I've never teased
anybody else. I made the cigarette last, made every drag count,
felt myself spiralling closer and closer to some unimaginable
orgasm with every caress to my breasts. He had to stop touching
himself a couple of times because he was so close himself.
I carefully put the butt out and took his hand in mine.
Wordlessly, I slid onto my back. He knew exactly what I wanted,
because it was what he wanted, too. He straddled me. I guided
his slick staff between my tits and let him remain perfectly still
until he got control of himself. Then he started sliding back and
forth between them. I kissed his swollen glans every time it came
close to my begging lips, murmurring that this was much better than a
cigarette. He halted and allowed me to nurse on his treasure for a
few moments. We both groaned when I released it and we saw
the lovely red I'd left there.
He handed me my purse. I didn't need instructions. My
hands were shaking wildly as I ran the tube of color over my
panting mouth until he was satisfied. I let him squeeze my
mounds together while I toyed gently with his balls. I whispered
that I wanted him to cum. I wanted to watch his sperm erupt. I
wanted it all over my tits, my hands, my face. I wanted to lick it
from his beautiful dick. I wanted him to fuck the mouth we both
loved so much.
Our needs meshed seamlessly. We were both granted our
heart's desire. His cum was as sweet as I'd known it'd be, and
after I'd gathered what I could with my hands and tongue and
eaten it like manna, he got a warm washcloth and cleaned me up.
I wanted to cry at his tenderness.
We cuddled after I'd gone to the bathroom and freshened
up. I didn't let myself jack off. I wanted my orgasm to come from
him. He handed me my cigarettes and I felt his passion build while
I tried to figure out how to tell him about the little secret hidden
in my gidle. I wanted him to know. And, for the very first time in
my tawdry history, I wished I had a cunt instead. I couldn't bear the
thought of him rejecting me.
Okay, your honor. I admit it. One of my all time favorite
games is to get really slutted up and cruise for unsuspecting cock.
You'd be amazed - or maybe not - at how many straight men get
lust-crazed when I suck them hard and let them tit fuck me, then
show them what's between my luscious legs. They might look a
little sick for a second, but damned near all of them can't wait to
ream my hot boy-pussy and fill my guts with cum. A lot of them
even jack me off while they hammer me. Several dyed in the wool
heteros have even sucked my dick while I ate them - and loved every
second of it.
But I was afraid Blake couldn't play that game. He was so
innocent. I honestly couldn't stand the thought of the look he'd be
sure to get in those big brown eyes. It'd hurt him worse than he'd
ever been hurt before. I couldn't do that to him. I decided, no
matter how much I wanted him, I had to leave.
He begged me to stay. He promised me double the fee
he'd agreed to pay just to be with him, even without more sex. I
kissed him and told him I didn't want his money. I couldn't believe
how startled he was. My heart was melting in my chest as I wiped
the lipstick off his sensitive mouth and asked him to please take
me home.
I melted even more when he sadly agreed. Suddenly, I
was on the verge of tears. He noticed. He seemed to notice
everything. When he gathered me into his arms, I was lost. I was
his. I forgot everything but the soaring sensation consuming me.
When his lips found mine, I felt myself opening like a flower. My
tears refused to stop. My arms were locked around his neck and I
never wanted it to end. I was in love. I finally knew that all the
shit about soul mates and eternal love was real.
That's when it happened. My dress was already exposing
my panty girdle. I didn't know what was going on until it was too
late. I felt his hand touch my core, and I went rigid. My cock
started leaping and bucking and shooting wild geysers of cum.
Blake kind of shuddered and gurgled into my parted lips. I felt him
trying to move his hand away, but he didn't seem to be able to.
He went stiff all over and jerked a couple of times - but not like I
was.
He wasn't cumming. He was fighting for breath and making
horrible sounds in his throat. Then he lurched and staggered and
fell on the floor. His face was already a horrible purple color and
his right eye was bulging out - but not the left one. His body was
twisted at a sickening angle, and I realized that he was dying. I
dialled 911 before I thought about the consequences. By the time I
hung up the phone, it was over. I guess the whole thing took maybe
thirty seconds or less. The medical examiner says he didn't suffer.
Not physically, anyway.
So, there you go, Judge. That's why they found me sitting
with his head in my lap crying like a baby. I killed him, sure as shit.
It figures; I finally realize what love is, and I end up murdering it.
A part of me died with him that night that I didn't even know I had.
It doesn't really matter what you do to me. A higher justice has been
served, don't you think?
------------------------------------
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