Stella The Brat Pt. 01

In the middle of a long, boring training, Justin, a low level employee was stuck in a Zoom instructor-led training. He attempted to be as engaged as he could be, but as he repeatedly told them, "Hey, this doesn't work for me." As a familiar buzzing hit his phone, he saw his favorite face on earth. One time she unlocked his phone while he was sleeping and made a silly face and put it as her profile pic. He had a million better pictures of her; that was somehow his favorite.

She had so many personas. She was the morose, morbid gothic queen. She was also a vibrant, shiny ray of sunshine. She was the beach girl, the astronomy geek, the groupie, the tv devotee. She had a million different layers, and he loved every single one.

Stella had trained him not to do a Marlon Brando yell of her name finally. He was a sweet guy who took very good care of her. She loved his eyes, his wit, and the beard. He had a full mane of fiery red hair at 45 still, even if the red beard was losing the battle to the white, which she liked even more honestly. To match his exotic hair color, he had piercing blue eyes, which he constantly reminded her only.18% of the world's population could make this boast.

It was almost unfair that such a couple had such beautiful eyes among them. As his were a deep blue like the sky, so were hers like the deepest ocean, the most crystal seas. The most expensive beaches, the seas that the rich and famous exploit, the luxurious excesses of the wealthy elites... those beaches. These instilled the same passion. A luxurious spectacle for all who would dare tread. As a couple, they had no equal.

As in real life, Stella, a switch in every iteration, had many moods. Sometimes it was sweet lover. Sometimes it was his own personal porn star. Although at times frustrating, it was definitely always an adventure. There is nowhere else on earth he would rather be than next to her. Today's mood was "Chaos Gremlin."

"My boyfriend is in a very, very boring training today. How can I best help him?" she thought. So she played around with the lights, finding the right hue to go along with the mood. She decided on red. The Police's "Roxanne," TLC's "Red Light Special," Red Light Districts. It is a sensual color for much of history for a reason. She threw on some dark lingerie, the fancy ones. She put her camera on the tripod, the one they used to satiate their inner exhibitionists. She turned on her phone and began her own personal photo shoot. Surprisingly exhausting, she filtered through the pictures to find her three favorite. Feeling accomplished, she sent them.

He saw the notifications from the familiar face in his phone. He paused for a moment and saw that she had sent pictures. With Stella, he had no idea what he was never going to receive. It might be a half-eaten cereal in a bowl. It might be a picture of a raccoon she thought was fun. It could be funny or steamy or spicy in the meme department or, every once in a while, she would send a picture of her face.

He checked the picture. Almost immediately, he looked around, paranoid, the epitome of "hand in the cookie jar." Once he felt it was safe, he turned the phone back on, and he looked at the pictures. Her breasts were impeccable. He would have no finer pair he would ever see in his life, nor had any he had seen him to this point compare. Her hips were delightfully thick. She was hourglass-shaped and he loved that about her. Not to mention, her ass was a sacred, beautiful place. The magazine cover will always photoshop out what his favorite parts are about her.

Delightfully nervous, she doom-scrolled through her phone wanting to see the next reaction. Sure enough within a few minutes her phone buzzed and he said, "You look absolutely amazing."

Initially, she was kind of satisfied. But looking over her body, she contemplated about herself that these deserve better than that. Removing her bra, a lifetime of experimenting with her angles she knew exactly how to accentuate her strength. Let's be honest, she said to herself, these are better than "absolutely amazing." Judging through the vibe and energy, she dug a little deeper.

There is a SpongeBob meme that shows a severe overreaction of his face. On the top of the picture it says, "The first time she shows me your boobs." The second half of the meme says, "The 9864th time she shows me her breasts" and it is the same picture. There was something magical about them. Part of it was the intimacy. Part of it was the exclusivity. She had not show them to many people. He called them content tits. They deserved to be on a porn site, a nude magazine, on an OnlyFans site, and most importantly, on a piece of art in a museum. But she shared them only with him.

Again, his phone paused, and this time there was one video and three pictures. The man embarked quickly on his paranoid search, making sure the pictures would remain only for him. He scoped out the pictures first. This time she was topless. She meant business, he thought, studying every picture. These were his pictures. She had made these specifically for him. This was her love note to him. He responded to the pictures first, warning her through text, "Now I'm horny."

With a confident smirk on her face, she responded, "Now watch the video." The next 23 seconds of his life were probably the greatest up to this point. His beautiful girlfriend had made sexy content just for him. It wasn't just sexy. There was a certain artistic passion to it. Yes she was making porn for him, but at the same time she was using her body to portray art.

He texted her, "Hey, can you maybe not do that? I'm at work. Now I can't think about a fucking thing except for you."

Her confident smirk justified itself. She went to the dresser, slid open the special drawer and finally paused when she saw Justin III, as they had affectionately named him. She gave him a once over and kissed the tip of this flesh colored dildo. "You ready for some fun, love?"

She found the perfect camera angle and began. She rode it first, twerking on Justin III, also exaggerating the noises. She was making content, damnit. Then she increased, faster, louder, more intense. After 30 seconds she switched angles to face the camera. A little ass, a little tit, she thought.

Once satisfied, she edited, taking a few stills. Now... she was ready. And... send.

He received the notification: 10 pictures, 2 videos. Seeing a preview of the stills, he was angry. Sooooo much he wanted to go to the bathroom and jerk off. Like, right now. But no. He was being taught active listening, conflict resolution, and workplace safety. He was dying. He just wanted to be inside her.

In a furious rage, he texted, "You are in so much trouble." She smiled, satisfied. She LOVED trouble.