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lesbionicandiconic · 2 months ago

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Stacy’s mom… is a butch?

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Contains: Fingering, strapon sex, risk of getting caught, cheating, age gap, breeding kink, daddy kink, possessive kink, rough sex. Most notably, mention of a character topping despite not really liking it, but in the end all stone related boundaries are respected within the action of this story. Enjoy!

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Wren had been dating Stacy for 6 months when she decided it was time to meet the family. Things has gotten pretty serious, after all. They saw each other multiple times a week, their friends had met, they had a beautiful candlelit 6 month anniversary dinner, it was the natural next step. And Wren Loved Stacy. Probably.

She hadn’t said it yet but it had to be true, right? It didn’t matter that she never quite felt that spark that people talked about, but that’s more a myth and a turn of phrase… right? Stacy was easy, comfortable, like a best friend. And the sex was… pretty good! All things considered. Wren had never been easy to please or quick to orgasm, not like Stacy. And she was sure that guilty twinge she got when she topped was just a little leftover perfectionism, because she wanted to please her girlfriend so badly.

Everything was going perfectly. Or as close to perfect as could possibly be expected.

Nothing could have prepared her for meeting Stacy’s mom.

She had been warned that Stacy’s mother was an old fashioned butch dyke, and not to be intimidated by them. Apparently they had gotten pregnant as a teen and came out a few years later, raising Stacy with a revolving door of girlfriends her whole life. When Wren saw them herself, she understood why they never seemed to be lacking for a woman.

Tall, short hair, thick arms undoubtedly filled with muscle and broad shoulders filled the doorway as Wrem stumbled her way through introducing herself. How could she not stutter and blush? The perfect image of a butch, dominant and suave was staring down at her with piercing eyes and a 50’s greaser aesthetic. For a moment she forgot she was standing with their daughter’s hand on her arm.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Thank you for welcoming me into your home.” She managed, sticking a hand out awkwardly.

They laughed, mouth twitching into a smirk, and shook her hand firmly. “Please, call me Sir, not ma’am.”

“Y-yes sir. Of course”

Wren tried not to think about how large their hand was, tried not to look like she was getting wet from a handshake.

Stacy just rolled her eyes and grabbed Wren’s arm, pulling her away from the butch’s strong grasp and inside the house towards the stairs.

“Ignore them,” she said, “They like to fuck with people, they think it’s fun. Let me show you my room, babe!”

Wren let herself be pulled away from the doorstep, but allowed just the quickest glance back. Her breath caught when her eyes met theirs, watching her go with the smirking expression of a predator who just spotted their next prey.

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Wren tried to convince herself she was fucking crazy. Her girlfriend’s mom? Really? What kind of lesbian lunacy was she on now?

And of course Sir wouldn’t be interested in her, a femme half their age who was dating their daughter. The thought alone was insane. The way they had looked at her in the doorway was just her brain playing tricks after the long drive over. No, it was definitely all in her head.

She kept telling herself that the entire first week of the stay.

She imagined them staring at her while she sunbathed in the back yard in only a bikini.

She made up the time they grazed a hand over the small of her back while passing her in the kitchen.

She dreamt of a time when they complimented her dress before her and Stacy went out to the club, and the way their gaze dragged down her body with unconcealed lust.

She hallucinated when she found herself almost pinned against the wall of the hallway, hot breath ghosting over her lips as they wiped some chocolate from the corner of her mouth, large thumb nearly slipping between her lips before they walked away without another glance.

Eventually though, some things get impossible to deny.

Like the day they watched a movie together. The three of them, squished like sardines on the small couch facing the TV. Wren was in the middle, Stacy fast asleep next to her, and Sir on the other side, wide awake. A blanket draped over all three, keeping it cozy as period action clanged out from the television.

The movie was good, but not entertaining enough to make Wren not notice the brush of fingertips against her bare thigh. Not her girlfriend’s fingers, theirs.

She tried not to change her breathing, pretend like she didn’t notice. It could just be a innocent graze.

Those rogue fingertips drifted up the outside of her thigh, calloused and rough against her soft skin, then dragged down between her legs.

Not innocent.

Her breath caught. She could feel their gaze on her but she tried to keep her eyes glued to the screen, terrified that any acknowledgment of what was happening would make it stop. Their fingers pressed against her clit through the fabric of her shorts and underwear. She gasped, her eyes flicking to her sleeping girlfriend.

“She won’t wake up.” They whispered, barely audible over the TV’s noise.

Wren didn’t respond, she couldn’t fathom how to gather a single coherent sentence. Instead, she slowly opened her legs as wide as she could without disturbing Stacy. They got the message and chuckled softly, dragging their hand up to her stomach then diving underneath her clothes. The track of their fingertips felt burned into her skin. Even though they touched her lightly, she wondered if it would bruise and give away her filthy new secret.

Their fingers pushed past her clit and dipped into the wetness gathered below. She was dripping, sitting next to them for an hour with their shoulder against hers had already been tantalizing enough to get her desperate. They massaged over her folds and clit, exploring, drawing shuddering breaths from her lips.

“Do you want more?” They breathed against her ear. She burned with guilt and pleasure as she nodded.

One thick finger slowly pushed inside her. So much larger and somehow warmer than Stacy’s fingers. She slid down in her seat to help the angle as they start to shallowly thrust inside her. They soon added a second finger that stretches her deliciously, her eyes fluttering closed as ripples of pleasure spread through her body. She still can’t look at them, but she can feel their hot breath on her ear and face and her neck. She wonders if they’ll kiss her.

They push a third finger inside her and she can’t help but let out a squeaky moan. Stacy shifts, and the fingers in her pussy stop moving immediately.

Stacy rubs her eyes and groggily asks if the movie is still going on. Sir answers.

“Yeah it’s got like an hour left, why don’t you go to bed honey? We’ll finish it then head up after you.”

Wren nods, unable to speak and hyper aware of how her girlfriend’s mom’s fingers were stretching out her pussy beneath their shared blanket. So deep inside and just barely grazing her g-spot with how they curled.

“Yeah, okay that sounds good.” Stacy says, detangling herself from the blanket while barely opening her eyes. She leans down and kisses Wren on the mouth, Wren clenches involuntarily on the thick fingers inside her. “Goodnight babe.”

“Goodnight.” Wren Squeaks, trying and failing to keep the tension out of her voice. Luckily, Stacy is too tired to notice. She slowly stumbles up the stairs and moments later the door to her bedroom clicks shut.

Wren lets loose a ragged sigh of relief that turns into a low moan as the butch’s fingers start to move at a brutal pace. Faster than before, and curling deep inside her each time.

“That was close.” They growl, then hot lips connect to Wren’s neck and she feels herself ramping up to the quickest orgasm she’d ever had in her life. She bucks her hips into the palm of their hand and tilts her head so they can access more of her neck. With each thrust the base of their hand grinds against her clit until sparks fill her vision. The orgasm hits her like a truck. She clenches around their fingers, own hands twisted in the soft blanket.

In the aftershocks they pull the blanket back and extract their dripping wet fingers from her pussy. She gasps in ragged breaths, not sure what would happen next, only certain that she just experienced the best orgasm of her life with the last person in the world she should have.

“Clean them up for me.” Sir purrs in her ear, touching the wet fingertips against Wren’s open mouth. She obeys. She opens her mouth wide and sucks greedily on each finger as it’s presented to her, tasting herself. Stacy hated when she sucked on her fingers, but they let out soft groans as they watch her head bob while she meticulously licks her own cum off. Their clear arousal at her enthusiasm gives her a rush of courage. She takes all three fingers in her mouth at once, almost gagging on the length, and she makes eye contact for the first time that night.

It flips a switch in them. Only a moment after those piercing eyes meet hers, she’s straddling their lap with those rough hands moving all over her body, pulling off her flimsy pyjama shirt and leaving her breasts exposed to the cool air. They grope her chest roughly, pinching and twisting her nipples as she squirms against them. With a shock she realizes they’re hard packing. Stacy never used a strap. No matter how much Wren begged and pleaded, she didn’t like the way it brought men into the bedroom. But grinding her hips down on the hard plastic in their pants now, Stacy knew there was nothing man about this. This was all Butch. This was what she wanted.

She decides to own it, to take advantage of this butch and everything they were offering her. She wants it. She wants it all. So she digs her sharp nails into their back as they take a nipple into their mouth and suck. She drags her nails through their short hair as they leave hickeys all over her chest. Fuck it.

They grab her hips and lift her to her feet, then pull down her shorts and panties so she is left standing completely bare in front of them. The way they look at her body sets her on fire. Utter desire. Complete dominance.

She sinks to her knees between their legs and unzips their fly, peeling back the rough denim until a long, thick strap pops out. Her hands then travel up their torso, slipping beneath the white T-shirt and just barely grazing warm skin before their large hands stop her. She looks up with concern, worried that reality had sunk in and they had decided this was too much, too wrong. But instead they put her hands back on their waist, on the outside of their shirt.

“I don’t like to be touched on the first time. I need to know a girl better. And even then, I don’t bottom.” They explain, a twinge of pain in their eyes. They’d had this conversation before and it had not gone well.

But Wren didn’t feel disappointed, she felt warm tingles spread through her body. Comfort. Freedom to not do anything she wasn’t fully comfortable with. To fuck and be fucked without guilt.

“Do you kiss?” She breathes, completely captured by their eyes and messy hair and warmth radiating through their clothes.

“Yes. Do you suck strap?”

“I’ve never tried, but I want to.” She says, shifting her gaze down to the long silicone cock only inches from her face.

“Give it a go, pretty girl. I’ll reward you with a kiss.”

She nods, feeling her wetness dripping on the hardwood floor. Never in her life had she experienced arousal like this. With one hand she takes the strap, slowly pumping it like she’d seen people do in porn. Leaning in, she licks up the underside, then swirls her tongue around the head. Her eyes flick up to see their reaction, pleased to find their mouth hanging open and chest heaving. Without breaking eye contact, she takes the strap deep into her mouth until she gags. Then again, and again, taking it a little bit deeper each time. Their hand tangled in her hair, pushing her further onto their cock. Her hands grip their thighs through denim as she gags continually and tears run down her cheeks. They use her hair to pull her off and smile at the sight of her watery eyes and the drool connecting her mouth to the strapon. Wren smiles back. This is what she wanted.

They lean down and grab her hips, easily tossing her onto the couch next to them. Crawling on top of her, they spread her legs apart and slot themself between so the strap pokes at her entrance but doesn’t quite slip in. Wren moves her hips, needing something.

They kiss her.

Her world melts away. The perfect kiss, so teased and anticipated, bruising, dominant, attentive. She arches her back and wraps her arms around their neck. Almost twenty more years of experience kissing makes a master, their tongue slipping in and out of her mouth, they read her like kissing girls is their first language.

After an infinity or maybe just a few minutes she breaks away, “Please fuck me. Please Sir, I need it.”

They chuckle, “As you wish, baby.”

Strong hands grip the backs of her thighs, pushing them up to her chest, she grabs them and holds them there instinctually. They line up the strap with with her pussy, dragging it through her wetness.

“So fucking wet for me. Who knew my daughter’s girlfriend was such a slut.”

Wren whined, guilt and pleasure and desperation mixing to create a headrush. They laughed at her pathetic expression, and push deep inside.

She had never felt a stretch like that. Never been so impossibly full. She could suddenly understand what people meant when they described sex as rearranging their guts. With the strap fully seated inside her and the masculine weight looming over her, she knew she would never be able to fuck a femme again.

They hooked her legs over their shoulders, and grabbed her face with both hands. This position is a mating press, she knew that much. Her poorly repressed breeding kink raged to life just thinking about it. She melted when their eyes caught hers and she saw that they were just as affected by all this as she was, the hunger in their eyes vivid.

“Are you ready for this? I’m going to knock you up, pretty girl.”

She nearly came on the spot. “Yes yes yes please Sir, knock me up please.”

They responded by driving their hips forward.

Wren held on for dear life as waves of pleasure ripped through her body. She forgot about her girlfriend upstairs and moaned with each impact of their hips against hers. The base of the harness rubbing against her clit sent extra zaps of pleasure shooting up her stomach and down her legs. She had never felt pleasure like this. Never been fucked like this. They knew exactly what pace to keep and how to flick their hips to hit spots inside she had never known existed. The pressure kept mounting so she bit hard into their shoulder and dragged her nails down their back, claiming them, pushing down her screams of pleasure. They moaned loudly and fucked her harder, moving one hand from her face to her neck.

Putting pressure, they pulled back to look her in the eyes. “You’re with my daughter, and I’m about to get you pregnant. You should really start calling me daddy.”

Shame and guilt and extreme arousal brought tears to her eyes. “Yes daddy.” She moaned, her whole body burning in every way possible.

They kissed her hard then looked at her with that crooked cocky smile, the same way that they had looked at her in the hallway that first day. Like she was theirs.

“That’s my good girl.”

Wren came so hard she thought she might die. Her vision went black and every muscle in her body tensed and released all at once. Wave after wave crashed into her until she felt like she was floating outside of her body, but they kept fucking her at a brutal pace, drawing it out even further.

“Say my name.” They growled, their face flushed and thrusts getting sloppier, her pussy squelching obscenely with each movement.

She could barely think but managed to whine “D-daddyyyy!”

They thrust deep one last time and stayed there as they convulsed on top of her, ragged breaths hitting her neck.

They both stilled for a few minutes, catching their breath in silence. Eventually, they moved her legs off their shoulders, instead looping loosely around their hips. They didn’t pull out. Wren could feel her used pussy throbbing and clenching around the strap as they buried their head in her chest. Little kisses and bites trailing between her nipples, making her twitch and sometimes whimper. She traced imaginary patterns along their scalp, down their neck to the collar of their T-shirt, then back up again.

The movie was over, credits rolling by to a cinematic score. Reality started to sink back in. She had just fucked her girlfriends mom. On her girlfriend's childhood couch. With her girlfriend right upstairs, hopefully still asleep despite how noisy they had gotten.

In fact, her girlfriend's mom's strap was still inside her treacherous pussy.

She lifted their head from her chest and looked them in the eyes, “What now?”

They didn’t answer, simply leaning forward and claiming her mouth. Every thought and feeling of guilt melting away with the sensation of their tongue sliding over hers.

Everything was perfect.

They started thrusting again, slow and languid, sending aching pleasure rippling through her tired body.

“You’re mine now.” They breathed against her lips.

“Yes daddy.”

#it starts out slow but really ramps up #this is the first thing I’ve written in months really & it feels nice :)#Butch #femme #stone Butch #stone femme #femme writing #Butch writing #lesbian writing #dyke writing #kinky lesbian #daddy Butch #daddy k!nk

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babeilovemonsters · 21 days ago

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You know what? I'm so BORED of big monsters. Okay no, I absolutely love big monsters. Monsters that tower over you. But when I'm in a size kink mood, and I specifically want shorter monsters, absolutely zero content. So you know what? I'm making my own.

I can probably do a bigger post about different types eventually, but today, I want fae.

I want a short fae. A piskie, pixie if you're not Cornish like I am.

They stand at no taller than 1ft, usually only 13 inches, and live mostly in trees. Their skin feels more like scales, similar to the bumpy, rough texture of a bearded dragon, with tiny spikes, and often comes in green, orange, brown, and other such colours, and smoothed down their back is much softer than up towards their head. They have big, pointed ears on the sides of their heads, similar to a deer's in shape, with thin, jagged ends, mimicking that of a leaf. Their wings are also very reminiscent of leaves, but aren't for flying. While their bones are hollow like a bird's, they don't actually fly, but rather glide. That being said, they can hold their air time for quite a long while, travelling up to half a mile with the right height and wind strength. Their claws are sharp and perfect for climbing, and their feet are also similar to a lizard's, so they can still grab on. They have small, wirey thin tails, for keeping balance in the treetops, only reaching to their knees. Their eyes are big, and dark, perfect for spotting little details under the blanket of nighttime. Being omnivores, they have both sharp and flat teeth, similar to a dog's.

Some choose to wear clothing, fashioned out of leaves, ripped fabric, litter, and even wooden armour. But not all find dignity in covers, and so choose not to. This is a respected practice, so long as they keep their sexual deeds private.

Their genitalia is able to be concealed, hidden in their sheathes until horny enough to awaken and slide out on their own. The females are larger than males, and tend to be thicker in muscle mass. Males are smaller, thinner and faster, but not as strong. Thus, females are often the ones in charge. They aren't mammals, and ultimately lack breasts, laying eggs instead. During breeding process, the fucking is normal, until the eggs are fertilised. After the females are successfully bred, they'll wait a few weeks for the eggs to develop enough, before taking down some unfortunate mammal, usually a human. Y'know, cause these fae are cold blooded. They aren't warm enough for the eggs. All the currently pregnant females deposit their eggs via an organ reminiscent of a female hyena (if you know, you know), and keep this incubator nearby, before either letting them go or eating them when the job is done. Depends on how they feel.

Because of this, it's not uncommon for female fae to fall in love with the human. But it IS uncommon for the males to. The males don't really have a need for the human. But you know how it is. Maybe they just get curious, or have a human kink. They're not instinct driven animals, they're people too. They might just like humans. Hell, the human doesn't even have to be the incubator for a fae to fall in love! They might fall for someone who frequents the woods quite often. Maybe the human feeds the wildlife, or plants flowers in the trees. Maybe they bring their dog(s) every day, and the fae find it cute. Everyone has their individual reasoning.

Personally? I wouldn't wanna be an incubator. Sounds hot in concept, but realistically thinking, I wouldn't be very comfortable. But I'd love to feel a gaze on me in the woods. It starts very slightly, probably just a squirrel or bird, I think. But then I start getting that feeling more intensely. Sometimes the feeling follows me. Sometimes it starts the moment I enter the woods, like something was waiting for me in those trees. Sometimes I'd notice little flowers or berries put in specific patterns on the path ahead, always the same exact paths I take every day. I'd start leaving gifts in return, like little ribbons, or beads. I'd start noticing them delicately placed on the branches in decoration, and keep the collection going.

I just think it'd be nice. Having something wait for me every day.

However, piskies do tend to stay in 'packs'. I say packs lightly, as they are on the same wavelength as humans, probably moreso, and some aren't comfortable being compared to an animal. Sensitive topic. But point is, they stick together. You'd REALLY need to be someone special to have one leave it's family to accompany you, though definitely expect requests to visit.

Fae are smart. Incredibly smart. It'd find ways to get around, especially as small as they are. Maybe it'd hide in your bag? Or in the hood of a baggy jumper? Maybe it'd sneak alongside, hiding in the trees and bushes near the path, while keeping an ear out for your breathing and footsteps in order to navigate your location. In your house, perhaps it'd hide in the walls when company is around, giving nothing more than flash of mystery and wonder to your guests as they catch the slightest glimpse. It'd find ways to hide, while never really leaving your side. They are incredibly loyal, after all.

Most, but not all, piskies are asexual. They're not very sex focused. Of course, some are definitely kinkier than others, and they do get sexual pleasure, physically. Some are comfortable with the idea. Some are indifferent. Some are very much against it. But sex is rarely their first instinct. It's mostly food or games. This means you would probably have to initiate something. They'd do their absolute best, of course! But it can be difficult for something of their size to really do a good job. They weren't exactly built to satisfy monsterfuckers of other species. Maybe sex isn't their forte. You can definitely work with it! Some are wonders with their tongues, such long and agile muscles usually used for licking honey out of beehives, while others have more joy in using their hands and arms to reach in and drag their nails delicately across the insides.

But hey. If you can get a fae to love and trust you that much, you can do what you want with it. Cuddle, play, fuck... Just make sure your fae is comfy, and they'll never want to leave.

Hey, isn't it supposed to be the other way around? Damn, treetop piskies are pathetic, huh?

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