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? ------------------------------------ This file came from Sierra Connection BBS Serving the Gender Community from Nevada 702-825-4220 8-N-1 28.8 VF (4 Nodes) Home of the Fiction Story Writing Contest Home of the Gif Beauty Contest -- x-x-x-x-x-x-x Lisa's TG Library posts stories on the Internet newsgroups for the enjoyment of adults only. Lisa Blades did not write the stories she posts (unless specifically noted) and does not claim any ownership or responsibility for these stories. If you would like to have a story posted without using your account, please e-mail them to Lisa with a title and byline and she will post them under her own account name. Thanks. Hope you enjoyed the story.