My Second Piece of Ass Ch. 09

{Names of real characters have been changed. Names of fictitious characters are real.}

On the 21st of September I celebrated having been a civilian for three months, studying, alone. The past three months had been the busiest, most challenging, decision packed months of my life. In the three months Laura and I had spent three R & Rs together and carried on countless telephone conversations. She had adopted me as her little brother and I had committed myself to being the best brother a sister could want.

In the three months my financial status had changed from a few hundred dollars in a checking account to ownership of the little house and two bank accounts that Laura and I shared. We were by no means rich, the term did not occur to me. But the trust Laura had placed in me was precious.

I had acquired a girl friend. Lacy could be a nag and overly possessive at times but she was unassuming. She understood my need to have time to study and to work. She did, however, make her demands known. On Wednesday and Friday nights, I belonged to her. This concerned me because I had not told Lacy that Laura would be home on Wednesday night and that she was scheduled for surgery on Friday.

Sylvia, the lady next door, had become a friend. We often ate our meals together, always in our kitchen; I had not been inside her house. She soon caught on to my commitment with Lacy on Wednesday and Friday nights and never interfered. Sylvia, a librarian, gave me study tips and encouragement. We flirted shamelessly.

Jimmy Chews had also become my friend and business partner. He had painted our house and Sylvia’s house next door. He was in the process of building a room on both houses but we interrupted those projects so he could paint the brothel where Laura worked while she was taking time off to have the surgery and to recover from it.

It was important to us that the brothel be painted during the time she planned to be away because we didn’t want Jimmy to discover that Laura worked there. For this reason we needed to hire another painter to help Jimmy finish the big house in the two weeks. Laura, being cautious, sent me to see Mr. Waite, the attorney. “Tell him this is all new to us. See what he advises us to do.”

Although dubious about me forming a business relationship with Jimmy, Mr. Waite was fond of Laura and heard me out. While he was not keen on our taking Jimmy under our wing, he did point out some things we could take advantage of. He suggested we obtain various types of insurance. He also suggested that we enter into a partnership agreement. Jimmy would do the painting; I would secure the work and keep the books.

Liability and workmen’s compensation insurance would be expensive but as Mr. Waite pointed out, painting could be a dangerous occupation. Since we were going to hire another painter it would be prudent to be protected in case an accident happened. Mr. Waite, a principled man, spoke to Jimmy Chews separately to explain how we would set up the partnership.

In only three months I had assumed a mountain of responsibility but I had gained three new friends and a loving sister. “She loves you but I guess you know that,” Kelley had said when I took her back to the brothel one night.

Laura had not taken notice of the time I had been a civilian but my family had. A letter arrived. In his customary way, my dad recorded his thoughts on three by five inch lined cards when something that he wanted to say popped into his head. My mother, not wanting the envelope to be too thick, used the back of the cards to let me know what was happening around the house and to express her concerns about my not buckling down and taking responsibility in life.

The dual use of the cards had been their practice while I was in the service. Often the cards arrived out of order and took time to sort out. When I asked my mother why she didn’t number my dad’s cards before she turned them over to write her messages to me she frowned, “and spy on what your dad is writing to you?”

Once while I was in Korea my dad congratulated me on finding a fine and decent girl to spend my life with. His praise of the girl’s spirited, yet refined demeanor filled one of his cards and continued to the next which was not in the envelope I received. It took several minutes to decide that my mother had mixed one of the cards intended for my brother into my envelope. Occasionally a short note from my sister, written on her fancy perfume scented stationery, would be inserted between the cards.

I had told my family very little about my activities in Arizona. Perhaps if I told them that I had enrolled in school, had a part time job and a girlfriend and was living in the small house that my adopted sister, a prostitute, had placed in my name, they would have stayed off of my back about me shunning responsibility. Nor had I given them my telephone number because I did not want them to hear the message on the answering machine: “Jimmy’s Painting Service, leave your name and number, we’ll be in touch.”

Laura, though she had not been there to celebrate with me, certainly was loving. She snuggled next to me early Wednesday morning.

“Why didn’t you call me? I would have picked you up,” I said as I turned to her and placed my hand on her warm tummy. Instead of sleeping alone in her big bed she had come to bed in my room.

“It’s almost 3 A M; I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You make me so mad sometimes,” I said, mimicking what Laura had said to me so many times.

“Don’t be mad at me, you feel good,” she said, covering my hand with hers.

“You feel good too,” I said, smelling her hair. It was still damp from the shower.

“Randy?”

I moved my hand on her belly to indicate that I was listening.

“I’m frightened.”

“Do you want to cancel?” She knew that if she said yes I would try to talk her into going through with the surgery. The doctor had warned us that the skin graft would not be perfect and we would need to take precautions but I felt the end result would be worth the risk. I knew how proud Laura had been of her once perfect ass and how self conscious she had become since the ass-hole had put out a cigarette on her right cheek.

“No,” she said, expelling air from her lungs as if she was conceding that having the surgery was for the best. “I’m going to be so good to you tomorrow night,” she said, patting my hand.

“Tomorrow’s Wednesday, that’s Lacy’s night. Didn’t I tell you that?”

“Oh,” she seemed surprised, “I must have forgotten.”

“Do you want me to cancel? I haven’t told her you’re going to the hospital. I’ll tell her, I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“No, you mustn’t do that. I’ll have you Thursday night. I want to be good to you before I’m out of circulation.”

“It’s only a few weeks. It will do you good to take some time off. We’ll be together and when your ass is pretty again we can do some things.”

“Mmmm, I hope it’s pretty again. I want to do those things with you. I can’t wait to show you my pretty ass and have you admire it.”

I felt Laura’s body relax and I heard her breathe deeply. I must have slept too. Suddenly she jumped and woke me. I heard her sigh and sob.

“Randy, are you awake?”

“Yes,” I moved my hand over her tummy.

“Will it be okay?”

“Yes,” I answered too quickly, wanting to sound confident. What if it was not okay? What if I had forced her to do something that did not turn out as we wanted it to? I rubbed her tummy to reassure her that I was there, that everything would be okay.

What bothered me was Laura’s lack of confidence when we were together. She relied upon me to console her and comfort her. She wanted my opinion on what we would have to eat, what we would do and even how she should wear her hair. When she was away she was self assured, giving me orders as how to handle things. She conducted business during our telephone conversations, making decisions like an older sister. When we were apart she was strong but when we were together she looked to me to decide everything. I feared that I was not good for her.

Laura sighed again, rose up in the bed and pulled the long night gown over her head. I could see what was coming. I moved to lie on my back and she followed, placing her head on my chest, letting her hair fall, knowing that each time she moved her head she would tickle my chin. I stoked her hair and her naked back, feeling her tits on my stomach and the trinket bounce on my chest each time she moved.

“You’re so sweet. Please keep telling me that it will be okay.”

My hand moved over her back in a circular motion in response to her plea. I felt the top of the plain white panties she often wore, the barrier to her forbidden ass cheeks. She went to sleep; I did not.

“Do I really make you mad?” Laura said when she joined me in the kitchen the next morning.

“I never get mad at you; I just said that because it’s what you always say to me. Go back to bed, you look tired.” I said, holding my arms open for her. She came to me and I held her as long as I dared, then rushed off to class.

By the time I got home from school and work Lacy was already there. They were in the kitchen, cooking together and talking.

“Call your other girl friend to join us, we made plenty,” Laura said to me.

Sylvia was hesitant because it was Wednesday and she knew it was one of Lacy’s nights but when I told her Laura wanted her to come she said, “I’ll be over as soon as I find something sexy to wear.”

Laura must have seen that I was checking the answering machine. The light was not blinking. “I took some messages for you, they’re on your desk.” she said

She followed me to the living room to show me where she had placed the messages. “Did you get some rest today? You didn’t have to answer the phone.” She looked better than she had that morning but her eyes were still puffy. I looked into her eyes with concern.

“You look cute,” I said. I had stopped by the book store and found a college T-shirt. I had also taken a chance and bought her a pair of below-the- knee pants. She had found the gifts in her room.

“I feel cute,” Laura said. She was showing me how much spare room there was in the waistband when we were interrupted.

“Can we open this?” It was Lacy. She was standing in at the kitchen door holding a bottle of white wine I had bought while rushing home the night of our second date.

I wondered how long she had been there, watching us. “Ah, I don’t think it would be a good idea, Laura’s not supposed to have any alcohol,” I answered.

“Oh,” Lacy said. “I thought it would be a good time to try the new wine glasses.” Then to Laura, “We bought some wine glasses but we haven’t used them yet.”

“Well by all means, we’ll christen them. I’ll have coke in one,” Laura said without elaborating on the reason she could not drink the wine.

Sylvia came in and confronted me, “R., just how long am I going to have to jump over sawhorses to get from my back door to your back door?”

Jimmy and I had started both rooms at the same time in order to combine the purchase of materials. The foundations had been poured and some of the framing had been started when he and our new worker, Davey, had to be pulled off the job so they could paint the brothel while Laura was not there.

“Are you going to let a couple of sawhorses keep you from me?”

Sylvia considered what I had said. “I wouldn’t let Wild Horses keep me from you, darlin.”

“In that case I’ll exchange the sawhorses for wild horses.” I said, watching Sylvia give me a hopeful grin. She was dressed like Laura in snug fitting pants and a T-shirt and she wore enough lipstick to make me take notice. The single braided pigtail was the only thing that gave it away that she was a librarian.

Seeing that Lacy had placed the new glasses on the table I opened the wine and poured some in three glasses.

“I can see who did the cooking,” I said when we sat down at the table. Lacy was noticeably pleased by the compliment.

“Cooking is not my forte but I do have other skills,” Laura admitted to Sylvia while smiling at me.

I boosted about having celebrated three months of being a civilian, stopping short of telling them about the letter I had received from my family and how my dad’s three by five inch cards were often out of order. Laura may have told one or both of our guests that our parents were dead. The masquerade was becoming difficult. We were sure to slip up at some point.

Sylvia was in a playful mood. She teased me. “C. C. Stone had two initials but you only have one, R. You must really be small.”

Laura laughed and said what she always said, “don’t ask me, you’ll have to find out for yourself.”

But Lacy became incensed. “Take it from someone who knows. I don’t have any complaints.”

We all laughed. Sylvia took the hint and stopped teasing me.

To my surprise, Laura told them about her upcoming surgery. Without disclosing that she was a prostitute Laura revealed that she had been burned on the ass about seven months before, ending, “Randy was overseas at the time. When he came home he insisted that I have skin grafts to hide the scar.”

Sylvia and Lacy looked at one another and then at me. They sympathized with Laura and wished her luck.

When Laura and Sylvia offered to do the dishes I excused myself and went outside to see if there really were sawhorses or lumber in the path.

Lacy came outside with me and wanted to know more about how Laura had gotten burned. I told her she would have to ask Laura. I didn’t want to talk about it. I was dismayed that Laura would tell them why she was going into the hospital for a couple of days. We had spent endless hours contriving stories about our relationship. She had spilled the beans about something very personal. In the end I suppose the way she told them was for the best.

That was Laura’s way. The first time we met she answered my question before I asked it. “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” She reeled off a speech about her and another girl having a trailer at the edge of town while we undressed. As I found out later, it was a true story. That’s Laura’s way.

“I think we’re going to need a television,” Laura said when it was time to go to bed. “Hanging around here all day is boring.”

Taking Lacy to my bed knowing Laura was in the next room was disconcerting. There had been a distressed look on her face behind the forced smile as we parted.

Lacy exploded as soon as I undressed her and got her into the bed with me. “She’s been here, I smell her on the pillow!” I felt a sharp left to my shoulder as she bolted from the bed.

How did she know? Did she really smell Laura’s scent on the pillow? I had smelled Laura’s hair when she joined me the night before. Maybe it’s still there.

Catching up with her at the door, we struggled. Lacy was determined to leave the room but she would not go far without clothes. She fought me until I wrapped my arms around her and smacked her on the butt, startling her enough to get her to look into my eyes. She stopped struggling but did not put her arms around me as I held her close.

“She was scared. It’s the surgery,” I admitted, keeping my voice down, sure that Laura had heard Lacy’s outburst.

“She got in bed with you? What sort of sister gets into bed with her brother? Lacy was incredulous but had toned her voice down.

“I told you. She was frightened and wanted to talk for a few minutes. She wanted to hear me say it would be okay,” I answered, running my hands over her nude body.

“Come back to bed, we’ll turn the pillow over,” I offered, patting her ass where I had given it a strong whack. She came reluctantly, still skeptical of my explanation for Laura being in my bed.

Lacy was not an impromptu lover. Nor did she like to lie on top of me with her head on my chest and her tits on my stomach. She complained that she was too tall for that because her legs dangled over the foot of the bed.

In bed we kissed and I patted her butt, making her giggle.

“Tell me what you’re going to do to me.” Lacy loved to hear me describe in detail what we were going to do. If I got something wrong or out of order it made her uneasy, distrustful.

When I didn’t say anything she began to squirm. I held her close, patting her butt with my hand. Liking the feel, I placed both hands on her ass cheeks and massaged the soft flesh. Lacy tried to roll off of me. I patted her butt more forcefully, making a smacking sound.

“Tell me what your doing or I’ll go home,” Lacy warned. I smacked her ass harder and pulled her head down for a kiss. She resisted, moving her lips to the side of my face.

“I’m going to smack you on the ass again.”

Lacy braced herself for the smack which did not come. After a few seconds she lifted her tits off my chest and her lips just above mine. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“When are you going to smack my butt?”

“You like that, don’t you?”

She settled back down against me. “I like it better when you tell me what we’re going to do, not just that you’re going to smack my butt. I like it when you tell me everything.”

“Okay, this is how it’s going to work. You get on you knees and push my cock against my stomach with your pussy. I’ll smack you on the left ass cheek when I want you to move forward and when I want you to move back I’ll smack you on the right ass cheek.”

I smacked her on the left cheek with my right hand and on the right cheek with my left hand. “Got it?”

Lacy remained still upon me, waiting for me to continue describing what we were going to do. I waited for her to understand that I was finished.

“When do you put the condom on?”

“We don’t,” I answered.

She pulled away, “I’m going home,” she asserted.

I held her close, my left arm on her back and my right hand on her butt.

“We won’t need the condom because there will be no penetration. We will make each other cum with the friction, your pussy rubbing up and down on the underside of my cock. I’ll direct which way to move with the slaps on your ass.” I finished with a light pat on each of her cheeks.

Lacy relaxed and let her tits fall on my chest. When I kissed her she returned the kiss with eagerness that I had not felt in her before.

“Don’t hit me very hard,” she whispered as she rose to straddle me on her knees.

Leaning forward, Lacy took my cock in her hand and held it to my stomach as she lined up the lips of her pussy and waited for the smack on her ass. The contact made my cock grow.

“Not so fast,” I cautioned the first time she moved her pussy up my shaft in response to the smack I had given her.

With my left hand I smacked her right cheek, making a slapping sound that reverberated in the darkness.

She moved backward more slowly, enjoying the feel the friction was giving us.

“More,” I coaxed as I smacked her left cheek and groaned when I felt her pussy slide up the underside of my cock. The lips of her pussy were opening and her wetness was making it easier for her to move slowly. Stopping just in time she ground my cock against my stomach, pausing there.

Lacy held her place and I felt her giving her clit a workout on the head of my cock.

. When I smacked her ass she remained still for a few seconds before starting the downward journey. The feeling was fantastic. I could tell that she had opened even more and from the slow deliberate way she was creeping down my shaft. I could tell that she was enjoying the trip.

Smack, Lacy stopped midway down my cock. I smacked her left cheek again, harder and she responded, knowing to move upward. Smack, she stopped, understanding the right cheek meant for her to descend. Smack, “Goody,” she said as she moved her pussy toward the head of my cock.

Smack, “goody,” she growled as she responded, moving back down. Smack, “goody,” smack, “goody,” smack, “harder.”

Lacy stopped, confused as to which direction she was supposed to go. I didn’t know either.