Steal Your Girl Ch. 04

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Introduction: The final chapter for now. If people read it and liked it, please send me lots and lots of feedback and comments. Suggestions and ideas for other “straight” girls or settings would be very appreciated.

In this last chapter things get political. I don’t want to make light of any of the issues discussed here, I just thought it would make for a sexy story. As always, read on at your own discretion…


Stealing a Vote

Now, I know some of you have been asking how exactly it is I support the lifestyle I lead. I don’t have a job(unless you count seducing straight girls, love what you do I always say) and I don’t even seem to have a permanent residence. So am I homeless? Penniless? Do I sell drugs on the streets to finance my bringing down the patriarchy, one fresh convert to sapphic delights at a time?

No, nothing like that. The truth is that in addition to a good brain, strong body and a knack for fucking beautiful women I’ve been incredibly lucky in my life. I had a great aunt who died about 20 years back who owned her own apartment and left it to me. So I’m never homeless, even if I don’t like spending time there(too much of an old lady vibe). Then a few years after that, and I know this sounds crazy, I won the lottery. Yup, my numbers came up and I was an overnight millionaire. I went down to the lottery office, they took a picture of me with the big fake check, the works.

It wasn’t the kind of gigantic, ridiculous, 800 billion dollar powerball kind of win but it was enough for me to go to a woman I knew who worked for a bank and get it invested in the sort of safe, low yield portfolio that would provide me a generous annual income without touching the principal. So I do ok for money. I’ve got a 7 figure bank account with only a GED and having never really worked a steady job. So if you wonder how I know the universe wants me to be out there, finding hot straight girls and fucking them until they agree to a lifestyle where men are just a peripheral annoyance…there you go.

Anyways, I live a life of leisure. But, like I said about my dead great-aunt’s apartment, I don’t really live there, only in emergencies will I stay the night there and usually I can find some warm and pretty young thing who’ll have me. Even if I’m in a dry spell I’ve got a lot of lesbian friends my age and that lesbians my age and their tendency to have two incomes, no children and like to travel. So someone always needs a housesitter.

So that was how I found myself in a small town, just outside the city I live in recently. My friends Carla and Jamie were one of those lesbian couples. Early 40’s, doing well for themselves and while they’d talked about adopting were still just on their own(apart from their cat, Hector). So they were on a month long trip to South America in the fall and asked me if I’d stay and feed Hector and enjoy the scenery of their place. They were the kind of girls who loved doing DIY improvements to their house and I had to admit it was a pretty nice place.

And it was a nice little vacation for me. I know if you’ve read the other tales of mine you’ll probably think I’m some sort of pussy-crazed fiend whose phone is always blowing up with the hooked-on-my-cock girls I’ve turned gay but, well, ok there’s a certain amount of truth to that but it’s not the whole truth. Sometimes I need some down time. And so for those few weeks I really liked just getting the paper in the morning, cooking a nice breakfast and just relaxing by their pool.

Hell, you want personal growth? There was a really cute Indian girl who worked at the local grocery store who I didn’t even immediately think about fucking when I saw her. Even when her flirting with her fellow grocery store employee boyfriend held me up in line one day, I decided not to get my revenge by turning her world upside down and fucking her everywhich way, leaving her a quivering wreck who would do anything I say. Hell, there was even a really cute soccer mom type a few houses down who I hadn’t once held between my thighs as she quickly ate me out before her husband got home. How’s that for personal growth?

It was just an easy, tranquil couple of weeks. But then, like it always does, politics went ahead and ruined everything.

It was just a nice fall afternoon when, out of the blue, my doorbell rang. That wasn’t so unusual, I’d gotten used to the fact that in a small town house like this as opposed to the places in the city people knew there neighbors and generally seemed interested in interacting with them. So I opened the door, expecting some sort of package delivery or salesman I was going to tell to fuck off.

But hot damn. I mean, hot damn.

This girl was perfect. Tall, with long blonde hair and the cutest little face. Big innocent green eyes and these incredibly full, pursed lips. She couldn’t have been even 20 years old, her skin was so soft and smooth looking.

She was dressed conservatively. A green cardigan and long skirt but her body was diyarbakır escort simply too much to ever look conservative. Her breasts were huge. Bulging the thin material of her sweater out so much that it almost looked like it might rip. I thought back to Danielle from the Bridal shop but this girl had her beat. Then those massive mammaries curved down into a slender waist before flaring out to a great set of hips, you could tell even through her skirt. She maybe had a few pounds of baby fat but almost all of it had gone to those great tits.

For a second I almost felt bad for her, she was so hot. She clearly tried to dress to de-emphasize her body but a body like hers couldn’t be contained. Anyone, man or woman, would look at her and think about what she looked like naked. She was holding a little clipboard and she had a red button pinned to her cardigan that said “Downing” with a check mark beside it.

“Hello?” I said, immediately knowing that I had to have this perfect little creature.

“Hi, um, are you, James or Mrs. Leonard?” she asked, looking confused. Clearly I wasn’t James Leonard and I knew I didn’t really look like the Mrs. type. In fact, there was no James or Mrs. Leonard. Jamie Leonard, my gay friend, was on vacation and Carla, her partner, was with her. But they weren’t married. Like I said, my state doesn’t have gay marriage yet.

God, her voice, perfect little honey.

“No, they’re out of town,” I said, immediately regretting it. I wanted this girl to stick around.

“Oh,” she said, looking a little disappointed, “Do you know when they’ll be back? I wanted to talk about the upcoming election with them.”

“Any day now,” I said, it was true, they were due back shortly.

The girl nodded.

“Right well, maybe I’ll come back in a few days and talk to them then,” she said with a uneasy smile before turning to walk away. Fuck, her ass was incredible too. I knew I couldn’t let her leave.

“Don’t you want to talk to me about the election?” I said. Truth was, I didn’t have time for any politics. I didn’t even know what the election was or who was running. Typically, I thought people on both sides of the aisle were full of shit, putting their own interests and the interests of whoever their donors were above people, especially women. Sure, I was on board with the socially liberal movements towards gay marriage and against those anti-choice idiots restricting women’s health choices but that was rarely enough to get me out to the polls. I know, I know, you want to call me a bad lesbian. But think about it this way, how many straight girls that I turned out vote that way because of me?

The girl turned back and looked at me with a bit of a frown. I could tell there was something about me she didn’t like.

“I mean,” she said, looking like she knew I wasn’t worth her time, “Do you even live in this district?”

“Yes,” I lied, “I live just up the road. I’m just feeding Mr. and Mrs. Leonard’s cat while they’re away. Good neighbors and all that.”

She nodded.

“Maybe I have you on my list then Ms…”

I shook my head.

“I doubt you would.” I said, “I only moved in last month. But I’m keen to get well acquainted with local politics.”

The incredible looking blonde looked me over. I could tell she wasn’t stupid. She knew, at the very least, something of what I was about.

“I don’t know,” she hesitated, “My candidate is really aiming his campaign at families.”

“Families”. I knew what that was coded talk for. Not dykes, in other words. I couldn’t deny it, there was something in the way she said that word that really burned me. If she was a little conservative, trying to spread that bullshit around, well, now I definitely wanted to rock her world.

“Yeah, well, I’m socially liberal but fiscally conservative,” I said, lying only slightly. I did have a lot of money in the market after all. I did care about my portfolio. “And I’m on the fence for a lot of elections.”

“Oh, like a swing voter,” the girl said eagerly, happily.

“Exactly,” I said, even though the only thing I wanted to swing was this girl’s sexual orientation.

“Well, yes, then I suppose I should talk to you,” she said, coming back onto the doorstep. She came inside and sat on the couch in the front room.

“Can I get you a drink?” I asked, hoping she would say something alcoholic. I had a hunch that it might loosen her up.

“If you have a lemonade that would be great,” she said. I smiled. I did have lemonade. I also had vodka. I know it’s wrong to spike someone’s drink but I wasn’t going to roofy her or anything, just get her a little relaxed. I poured a pretty good amount of the clear, tasteless liquor into a large glass before topping it up with the good, homemade lemonade. Heck, I even poured a second for me. I took both of the glasses into the room and sat opposite her. God, she was something out of time. A pretty gold crucifix dangling around her neck, pointing invitingly down towards those big tits. Her long, supple legs crossed like out of some etiquette guide from the 50’s. I could feel myself practically soaking wet just being around her. Still, I could tell she was confused by my just staring at her huge boobs.

She took a big gulp of her lemonade and screwed up her face and for a second I worried I’d made her drink too strong and that she recognized the taste of the vodka.

“This is good,” She said politely, “But it’s got a bit of a sharpness to it.”

“Oh, yes,” I said, “I use Meyer lemons, they’ve got a bit more sour than normal ones to them.”

Meyer lemons, I wondered. Was that really a thing? I was pretty confident I’d heard about them on the Food Network. Either way, the bullshit seemed to work on the girl and she smiled and took another sip.

“So Downing,” I said, noting the name on the button she was wearing, hoping she would buy that’s where I’d been looking, “That’s your candidate or…”

Downing, the name sounded familiar. The girl looked down and, looking somewhat relieved, nodded at me with a smile.

“Yes, Chuck Downing. Big Chuck, they call him at the statehouse,” she said, clearly remembering a script, “District 14’s voice for more than ten years in the State Senate. A man who fights for faith, families and traditional values.”

Chuck Downing. Now it came back to me. A pretty big deal in state politics and raging homophobe. Someone who compared Queers to beastiality and who had been instrumental in defeating a recent attempt to legalize gay marriage that had passed the legislature but not the Senate. This was, I had to admit, a surprising amount of political knowledge on my part but I remembered now. It had been Jamie who I’d heard ranting about it when she moved out here. How she loved the house and neighborhood but hated how she had to be represented by that bigot.

I decided to put a pin in “faith, families and traditional values” for now, knowing that I’d get rage building up if we went down that line of bullshit. I’d convinced the girl to come in by feigning an interest in financial policy and I, as someone who was technically part of the 1 percent, wanted to at least seem like I was genuine in my curiosity.

“So, ” I nodded, “What are his policies on fiscal matters.”

The girl nodded although I could tell that wasn’t what she had a great grasp of.

“Well, I know he’s against handouts,” she says, “He doesn’t think hard working families tax dollars should go to subsidize the people who don’t want to work or who have a bunch of babies on welfare. He thinks too much taxes kill business and that when businesses have more money they hire more people and then everyone benefits. In fact, Daddy often says “a rising tide lifts all-“

“Sorry,” I cut in, “Daddy?”

“Oh,” she said, looking embarrassed, “I forgot I wasn’t supposed to do that. See, yeah, I’m not just a volunteer. I’m Kate Downing, his daughter. So that’s why I know that Daddy, I mean Chuck Downing, is the most honest, most qualified-“

My god. I almost groaned. The Homophobe’s Daughter. It wasn’t even about me any more. Sure I was going to enjoy having this girl on her knees eating me out, sure I was going to love sucking on those big titties until they were red with teeth marks and sure I was going to make sure she took all twelve inches of my strap-on but…well, it almost wasn’t about me. She needed to be fucked gay just for the sheer, delicious irony of it. Still, there was one important question I had to ask before I knew I would proceed.

“And you vote for him?” I asked, asking the question in the most roundabout way I could.

“Of course,” she said before conceding something, “Well, I mean, not technically. It would be more accurate to say I’m going to vote for him. But it’s not because I didn’t want to before, I only just turned 18 last May so I couldn’t!”

She laughed at this, clearly delighted by the joke. I chuckled. God damn. 18 years old. So it was on.

“So then…” I said, “Families, Faith and…what was it?”

“Family values, yes, Pro-Family.” she said, glad to be back on familiar footing.

Truth was, every time I’d ever heard a politician use that term in the past I didn’t have a clue what the fuck it meant. I strongly suspected that whatever being Pro-Family meant, I wasn’t it.

“So what does all that mean.”

“Well,” she started, “Daddy says we’ve lost our way as a nation built by Christians on Christian principles. I don’t know if you heard but last year there was a push by Liberals to override the will of the people and pass a law to redefine the traditional definition of marriage and Daddy, I mean Big Chuck, used all of his leverage, Daddy is really good at swinging votes, and was able to narrowly defeat it. In fact, a strong case could be made that if Big Chuck isn’t back at the statehouse then they’ll try again and succeed.”

I didn’t entirely get it. I thought that from the way young Kate had looked at me outside that she’d pretty quickly understood I was gay, after all even as sheltered and as naive as she seemed, I’m guessing she’d had a gym teacher or something that lived up to her stereotypes. I definitely was dressed butch, in a flannel shirt and jeans, and I couldn’t imagine it would be that lost on her. I could only assume she was so into the script she’d been given that she didn’t even think that her father’s “heroic” defeat of gay marriage would anger me the way it did.

“And that would be so bad…why?” I said.

“Well, like I said, we support traditional marriage, not gay marriage.” she said quickly.

“Oh,” I nodded, “And this bill for gay marriage, it would have made it mandatory for women to marry women and men could marry men?”

“No…” she said, looking unsure.

“Oh, so it really wouldn’t affect straight people at all then,” I nodded.

“Well, it would affect all of us,” she said, “Because the traditional definition of marriage-“

“Look, even if there was only one “traditional” concept of marriage the one used primarily in this culture held for hundreds of years that that that husbands could beat and rape their wives. Are you for that?”

“Of course not,” she said, looking offended.

“Right,” I said, “So we’ve already redefined what marriage means in terms of the relationship between spouses, why can’t we do it again to expand who can get married?”

I couldn’t really believe the fire that was coming out of me. Years of all of that discrimination and homophobia coming to the fore I guess. And, you know, deep down I did believe in gay marriage. After all, I did want to encourage lesbianism and if men wanted to fuck other men, fine by me. So despite the fact that I had about as much interest in ever pledging my heart(and strap-on) to just one woman as I did in swimming naked and bloody with a bunch of sharks, well, all of I sudden I was feeling pretty political.

Kate took another sip of her lemonade. This time she didn’t screw her face up at all.

“The bible says thou shalt not lie with a man like you do a woman.”

Hmm, I thought. Maybe the Bible was on to something. After all, I agreed provided that passage was aimed at women.

“But what about a woman, what does the Bible say about women being together.” I asked, glad that I could steer the conversation in that direction. I could see the look on Kate’s face shift. If she had any doubts about me, that had killed them.

“I assume it’s the same and-“

“You assume,” I shook my head, “So you base so much on the literal word of the bible but if something’s not covered you just assume?”


“And further more, doesn’t the bible also say that rape is ok? And slavery? And that you can’t eat lobster? Or wear blended fibers? And isn’t today Saturday, the sabbath? Aren’t you working? Should you be put to death for that?”

I was on a bit of a rant. Some of the stuff I vaguely remembered from my own experiences with religion as a young child came back to me. The hypocrisy of it all. Picking and choosing which lines of bullshit they used to oppress women and gay people. Kate was clearly put off by this and took another big sip of lemonade before making a move to stand up.

“Look, clearly you’re not open to the ideas and have a different…lifestyle so maybe I should just…”

But I moved quickly beside her and took a firm hold of her arm, pulling her back against me.

“It’s a great lifestyle,” I said, “Fucking little bitches like you, turning them out, making them see the light.”

“What are you, stop-” she said, struggling

“Your bible, that bullshit, that was just written by men to control people. The poor and women mostly, that’s why they wanted to ban what came naturally to us. They knew that if two women could get together that there’d be a lot of men going to bed alone.”

“Let go of me,” She said weakly and there was so much conflict in those pretty green eyes, “I’m not gay, I don’t like girls. My parents sent me to that camp and I don’t feel that way any more. I know it’s a sin.”

I almost laughed. That’s why she’d so easily spotted me as a dyke. She was already one herself. I wouldn’t be turning this one gay, just bringing out what was already there. She’d repressed it, clearly, probably told by counsellor’s at that camp that if she just hid it that it would go away. Well, now fucking her was practically a community service. I stuck my hand up her skirt and found her panty-covered crotch easily. Just as I suspected, she was practically soaked through.

“How do you know?” I asked, “I’ve barely touched you and you’re drenched.”

“Oh god,” she moaned, “I’ve tried being with a boy and it wasn’t too-“

I took her thin little panties in my hand and ripped them right off her.

“Your pussy is telling me something very different,” I said, finally doing what I’d wanted to do and taking a big handful of her massive melons.

“It’s wrong,” she moaned as I apparently cupped and kneaded a very sensitive breast, “God-“

“Why would your god make you like this,” I whispered harshly, “Why would he make my hand on your pussy feel so good, get you so hot and wet, and then think it was bad?”

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