Before I start, let me admit, that I am a closet wrestling fan. Lie most of the guys who are “rasslin” fans, I watch because on one hand, I like to see two guys beat the Hell out of each other. (for real, or otherwise) On the other hand, I also like to watch and cream over the hot scantily clad women on the show. Which leads me to write this story. Here is a little background info for you non wrestling fans.
A couple of months ago, the WWE did a storyline where Stephanie McMahon, WWE owner Vince McMahon’s daughter, lost a bet to Eric Bischoff, and she had to perform “HLA,” aka “Hot Lesbian Action.” “HLA” turned out to be just a couple of attractive strippers feeling up the “Billion Dollar Princess. As soon as I saw this, I wondered, “What if Stephanie enjoyed HLA too much?” This story examines that possibility. After you read this please vote for this story, and send me some feedback. Your opinions really matter on this one! And forgive me if my grammar sucks, I am a little out of practice.
It was driving her insane, and she just couldn’t take it anymore. Every night for the last three months, she had dreamed about it. She had went out of her way to avoid her boyfriend Triple H sexually, because this was making her so upset, that she couldn’t even give herself a good cum, let along anyone else. What was driving Stephanie McMahon insane? Hot Lesbian Action. That ridiculous storyline that bombed that she wrote with Paul Heyman’s help, was engulfing her. She had dreams that she was having sex with women! If she told her father, he would surely fire half of the WWE over it. If she told her brother, he would laugh at her, and tell Vince himself. If she told Triple H, she was afraid of what he would do. She didn’t know why she was having these thoughts. All those girls did was feel her up, nothing really too sexual. Than a perplexing thought entered her head: “How about you try it?” A buzz rang through her pussy when she thought that. She spent half of the night in her hotel room thinking about it, and decided that she would try it. She called her Dad on the phone, and asked for two weeks off, because she was burnt out. Vince agreed. Stephanie mischievously grinned on the other end of the phone. Her Dad would give her the world if she asked for it. The perks of being “Daddy’s Little Girl.” Stephanie hopped on a plane, and headed towards Los Angeles. A place she assumed was a hotbed for lesbians. She got to LA, and checked in a not so classy hotel under an alias. Her and Triple H used aliases all the time so it was no big deal. She didn’t want to be noticed. She didn’t want to be recognized. The Marks (wrestling terminology) on the internet would have field day if they knew what she was doing. So she dyed her hair blonde, and put on some contact lenses that changed her brown eyes blue. She wore this sexy black leather one piece skirt. She wore this cowboy hat she had borrowed from Trish Stratus a while back. She called out a taxi, and proceeded to find what she was looking for. The cab driver looked up and asked:
“You look familiar. Are you from around here?”
Stephanie looked up, and noticed the drive had a “Stone Cold” Steve Austin air freshener hanging off of his mirror. She thought to herself: “God damn it.” She replied in a very Southern voice:
“No I’m from Mississippi. My name is Betty Sue Smith.”
The driver bought it, and stayed quiet. Stephanie saw a place called “The Cat’s Meowe, and told the driver to stop. He did, she paid him, and she proceeded in the direction of the club. Stephanie walked in the club, and right off the bat, she knew she struck gold. It was wall to wall lesbians! Lesbians dancing in cages, on stages, on the bars. She ordered herself a coke, and sat down. She never was very good at drinking alcohol, and never really wanted too be. Several girls were giving her the eye. Then she saw this young girl, who looked like she was barely out of high school sitting at the bar. She was about 5’7, blonde, very tan, and it looked like she ha bigger breasts than Stephanie. She was wearing a red skirt and top. She sucked up some courage, and walked up to the bar. She said to the bartender in her “Betty Sue” voice:
“Give her another bartender on me.”
“Thanks.”
“My name is Betty Sue.”
“I’m Leanne. Say, you look familiar, are you from around here.?”
Stephanie rolled her eyes, and replied seductively:
“Why Leanne, are you hitting on me?”
Leanne giggled. The girls talked about things for an hour, when Leanne asked.
“You want to come to my place? I live above the bar.”
“Above the bar? That is convenient.”
