“Clementina, that’s not true,” I said. “You have given us a home when we were at risk of being foreclosed. You agreed to my request to put up a monument. I am so grateful to you. And you are an incredible lay, when we do have sex.”
“Then why is it you just fuck me, not make love to me like you do your mother?”
“She’s my mother, I love her. Are you saying I should love you like I love her?”
“No but I would like there to be some connection between us, and right now I feel nothing from you.”
She was right. I felt little emotional attachment to her. Honestly, I considered her more an acquaintance than a friend. That was wrong. We had been through too much together for me to have that attitude.
“Clementina, I’m sorry. You’re right.” I said.
“You shouldn’t be sorry,” she said. “I haven’t given you any reason to feel any way towards me except hesitance and skepticism. You probably are still expecting the other shoe to drop regarding your living situation, right?”
I had to nod.
“Yes, I am, truthfully,” I said.
Clementina leaned forward. Several wet strands of her long dark hair had come free of the band holding her ponytail in place and fell forward over her shoulders and her bare breasts. She put her hand on my arm.
“I want to show you I am sincere,” she said. “Let’s go on a date.”
“A date?” I said, laughing. “I’ve already fucked you in every serviceable hole, it’s kind of late for a date.”
She laughed, then slapped my hand lightly.
“No, I mean it,” she giggled. “Let’s have a romantic dinner somewhere, get to actually know each other, then we can make love, just you and I. Maybe even get a hotel room. And I mean make real love, like you make to someone you truly care about. How does that sound?”
I had to admit, it sounded good. I said so.
“But what about Ona?” I asked.
“What about her?” Clementina countered.
“You and your sister are lovers. You’re in love. Does that change things?”
“Not at all. I still love my sister more than anyone else. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love your mother too. She is a beautiful strong woman and I adore her. And I adore you, I saw such strength and courage in the face of the dark phallites that I can’t help but admire you. And I want you to feel something towards me more than another ass in your harem.”
“You ladies are not my harem,” I said. “I’m just the only guy around here with a phallite. You could recruit any other man you want – and they would probably take one on willingly once they had a good look at the three of you.”
“It’s not that simple…” Clementina said and trailed off.
“What do you mean?” I asked, but she waved me off.
“It’s just not, trust me. That is a discussion for another time, right now we are talking about you and I. When is our date?”
We decided to go to an Italian restaurant the following evening, and retire to a nearby Hyatt for the night afterwards. Our impending date dominated the dinner conversation, and while I had anticipated a negative reaction from Ona, none was received.
The next day I had chores and repairs to do around the house. I spent the morning pounding, hammering, sawing, and making fixes here and there. I didn’t see much of Clementina as she, my mom, and Ona had gone out to run some errands and do some shopping. I had the place to myself. I wrapped up my chores mid-afternoon, had a bite to eat and lay down for a nap, expecting a long night ahead of me.
I was awakened by three women standing around my bed, shopping bags in hand.
“We picked out what we are wearing tonight!” Clementina announced.
“WE picked out? WE are wearing?” I said, playing the grump after being rudely awakened.
“Yes!” exclaimed my mother. She pulled out a pair of soft gray khakis and a faded, blue button down shirt from a bag. “Voila! Wear this, shoes, and nothing else!”
“Um,” I said. “With the phallite onboard, I’m not sure having me go commando in public is a good idea.”
“Tonight it is,” said Clementina.
“So what are YOU wearing?” I said, trying to keep the grumpy sneer out of my voice and mostly succeeding. Mostly.
“This!” Ona jumped in and pulled out an outfit that made me catch my breath. It was a red, filmy silk dress. It had spaghetti straps that reached well below the shoulders, and the strips that covered the breasts were only a couple inches wide, plunging deep to the waist. There was no way those little strips would completely cover Clementina’s wide aureoles. The back was bare to the waist, and deep slits ran up the front and sides of the dress, almost meeting the waist. Anyone wearing that dress without anything underneath would be showing a lot to the world every time she moved.
My eyes were as big as saucers as I mentally placed Clementina in the dress.
“You like?” she asked tentatively.
“I fucking love it,” I croaked, finding my mouth unexpectedly dry.
“And nothing else but shoes!” Ona interjected.
“Wow,” I murmured. I could feel my phallite-laden cock stir in my shorts.
“How about a quickie before dinner?” I asked.
“Save it for later,” Clementina said, blowing a kiss my way.
Chattering, the three of them exited my room and I was left staring at the ceiling. This was going to be quite a night.
We arrived at the restaurant at 7:00. Clementina looked unbelievable. Clementina had the typical female phallite body – large breasts, big nipples, narrow waist, wide hips. A perfect mom body. The top of the red dress she wore was completely unable to cover her wide pebbly aureoles, and the edges peeked out the sides. Every step she took, the dress billowed, showing the world her tidy little bush and long, pink-brown labia. As for myself, Clementina insisted I wear my shirt untucked and only have the bottom two buttons buttoned, so I was showing some skin myself.
Clementina’s dress and the requirement that I go commando left me with a very large noticeable bulge in the front of my khakis as we entered the restaurant. I tried to position myself directly behind Clementina to hide it, but she forced me to stand right by her side. Trying to conceal a budding phallite erection that was more than a foot long was impossible, and even as men’s eyes turned to Clementina, ladies eyed my growing hard-on as the waitress led us to a booth in a quieter section in the back of the restaurant.
I leaned forward and whispered.
“I am about to start dribbling slime down my leg,” I said. “And these khakis are going to get soaked.”
She giggled, reached under the table for a second and pulled her hand out. The fingers were webbed with slime.
“I know,” she said.
I took her hand in mine and was licking the slime from her fingers when the waitress arrived. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, then she introduced herself and we ordered a bottle of wine while we considered the menu.
The evening progressed smoothly. We drank a bottle of wine, told jokes, and chatted. Mostly, I asked her questions about her upbringing, her years when she and Ona were lovers, and what led her to leave that life behind. I had wanted to know more about her, I wanted to find things to admire so I could start to feel something towards her besides ambivalence.
And I did. I found out how she helped take care of her siblings when her parents grew ill. And about how she had single-handedly looked over the phallites during the years since the family had all either died or moved away. Her remaining behind at the farmstead had been less an act of being “an old-fashioned girl” – that was just the facade she put forth. It was really a sense of duty that kept her down on the farm. She had forsaken her relationship with her sister, given up on any hope of a husband, all so there would be someone looking after the phallites. She became the one to protect the world from the phallites and the phallites from the world.
When Ona became a dark queen, Clementina took that personally as a failure.
We were just about done with our meal and finishing our wine when we got to that part of the conversation. I stopped her.
“But wait,” I said. “You have no control over your sister. She does what she wants. You can’t force her to do anything.”
“I know, but I took on the responsibility for caring for the phallites. And I failed. And because of that, your father died. It was really my fault, not Ona’s.”
A tear crept from the corner of her eye.
I reached out and took her hand.
“Clementina, no, don’t talk that way. Ona did it what she did, you are not responsible for her.”
She looked down, she looked so sad, and I felt sad. And I felt admiration. I felt love.
“Feel better,” I said. “You’ve succeeded.”
“How have I succeeded?” she asked, looking up at me, eyes misty.
“I don’t think I can ever just fuck you again.”
She leaned forward. Our lips met. Her lips were soft and moist.
She was beautiful. She was perfect.
I felt my cock stir to life in my khakis, a dribble of slime slipped from the tip, dampening the fabric.
Our lips parted and I met her eyes, then looked down. Dribbles of phallite milk from her breasts had darkened the red fabric of her dress.
I glanced around the restaurant. I knew the moment we stood up to go, folks would start noticing.
I didn’t care.
We finished the wine and paid our bill, ignoring the looks as we stepped out into the night air. Clementina’s dress billowed in the light breeze, the top straps slipping free of her breasts. She tried to cover them back up, but her left nipple was still sticking out when we entered the hotel, a rivulet of milk trickling off the tip. Slime slipped down her legs underneath the dress, and I could feel slime sliding down the inside of my khakis.
We checked in and got our key, and as soon as the elevator door closed behind us I leaned forward and devoured her bared breast, licking and suckling at the milk that was now flowing from the nipple. It was sweet, intoxicating, and made the wine buzz even more intense. Clementina pulled my face from her chest and pulled my mouth to hers, kissing me, sucking a mouthful of her own milk from between my lips.
The elevator dinged and I pulled her out after me. Clementina had made the reservations, I knew nothing about the room. When I opened the door I caught my breath.
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