Liberty Summer Ch. 06

"Too bad," I said. "I would have made y'all pancakes."

A bit later up in my bedroom, while dressing to go over to the Havraneks, I noticed Little Pinky was missing from my ass. Poor Pinky, he had served me well but I felt it was time to move on. But you never forget your first...

Midnight was down by the pool so I guess the plug was too.

I had already put on a pair of cute panties with scalloped waist band like the ones Chloe had but blue. I guessed braless would be too brazen for my neighbors with the white blouse I'd chosen so I found a lacy blue bra that kinda sorta matched my panties.

I turned around and Chloe was leaning against my door frame still topless, arms crossed.

"I should hate you," she said. "You did the absolute most painful thing a best friend can do in a situation like that."

"What's that?" My soul embraced the terms 'should' and 'best friend.'

"You were fucking right." She closed and we were hugging. "I was being a bitch. A controlling bitch."

"What was that 'khun pal' you called my brother mean?" I asked.

"It means 'big feet.'" I felt tears dripping on my breast. "I'm sorry... so sorry."

Through her sniffles she said, "It's so cool you can leave your door open like that. Wish my Mom was so cool."

Sometimes you cope with the drama by hugging and just moving the conversation on to other things. "What about your dad?"

"Forgetaboutit." Her phenomenal nipples were drilling into my chest, just below my boobs. I felt my own nipples try to push through the lace of my bra.

"Your sweater is down by the pool," I said. "So is my entire sex toy collection."

Murphy's Law says that if you don't put away your sex toys right away the most embarrassing person is sure to find them.

"Only two?" She looked up at me and smiled. "We gotta fix that. Wanna go shopping at a sleazy sex store to see what it's like?"

"Tempting..." I said. "But I'm due at the Havraneks."

I finished dressing and we started hand in hand towards the stairs like innocent ingenues or lesbian lovers, take your pick. From down the hall I heard my Uncle Bill's voice say "Leave the last one hanging, I want it to knock about and remind you what a slut you are."

I put my finger to my lips and tiptoed towards the master bedroom door. Of course it was open, or I would not have heard. I put my head close to Chloe and murmured "My mom's door is open, that means it's okay to look."

"Really?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes really."

Mom was on the floor in black stockings and her collar. It looked like a simple yoga pose except her knees and ankles were far enough apart that her naked breasts touched the carpet and her sex was only inches above Mom's phone where it lay between her ankles. Her butt was angled towards the door but not straight at it.

My mother was slowly pushing a huge black bead in her rectum. There were two more on the string.

To me it seemed Mom wasn't going slow because it was hard, she was savoring the feels as her ring muscles played with the ball. Or she was putting on a lewd show for my Uncle Bill, who's face could be seen on my mother's phone. Knowing Mom, both. We watched as practiced ass would suck the ball in a little and then push it back out a bit. I resolved that someday I would be able to do that.

When the bead was finally allowed to disappear from sight in my mom's ass she said, "That's seven of nine Sir."

You could see the grin in Uncle Bill's voice as he said, "Seven of Nine? Okay, we'll stop there."

"I would be awful bratty for a sub to call her Dom a nerd so I will not do that Sir."

"Point," Uncle Bill said. His face reminded me of Michael Keaton when Bruce Wayne meets the bad guy at the party in the first Batman movie.

Mom shivered. She wiggled her butt and the dangling beads thumped against her inner thighs. The also rattled.

"That looks lovely, except for the five o'clock shadow on your snatch. Another point." he said. "Enjoy your date tonight."

"Thank you Sir." She turned her head toward the door. "Hello again Chloe. I thought you would be with Greg."

"He got called back to work," Chloe said. "The puke in the pool crisis is over and they couldn't get ahold of the midday guard, so he's getting overtime to work until closing."

"Oh well." Mom rose to her feet and went into her walk-in closet. "I have two more showings today."

"Can I ask you a question Mrs. Clarke?" Chloe called.

"Samantha, please Chloe," Mom said. "You just saw me stuffing anal beads in my heinie, I think we can be less formal."

"Yes ma'am. Do those beads feel good?"

Mom came out of the closet wearing a white blouse and carrying a forest green blazer and skirt over one arm, a slinky green cocktail dress over the other. She was already wearing a matching pair of green pumps,. She stopped and shook her hips like a belly dancer. The dangling beads gyrated madly. The two dangling balls sounded like maracas.

"Oh it feels lovely. Not just the sensation of them moving around—they have heavy weights inside, that's what you hear—but the shear naughtiness of their existence there gives me a slutty buzz. Finally there's the connection I feel with my Dom. It hits the perfect trifecta of kink."

Mom finished dressing, in the suit, not the cocktail dress. She looked a Chloe. "I can't tell you not to tell your parents Chloe. But your mother already knows I have a Dom who makes me stick things up my ass."

"Why did you shiver when Uncle Bill said 'point' Mom?"

"When I do something bratty but we don't have time to deal with it now, he adds it to his ledger for catch-up later. Which reminds me...."

Mom picked up a toilet kit off her vanity I remembered last seeing tucked under Libby's front seat. "Busy slutty hotwife cuckqueen subs need to be able to touch up their snatches on the go."

I took note. So do aspiring nymphomaniac strippers.

"I don't understand this stuff at all Mrs—Samantha."

"Chloe, the secret of a D/s relationship is that half the things Dom do to subs are things the sub actually wants but can't deal with the shame or guilt on their own. The Dom makes it okay because they said to do that very thing. For example, suppose there was a young man who enjoyed anal penetration but feels great shame and guilt about it... If he had a Dominatrix who pretended to be doing it as punishment..."

"'Funishment?'" I chimed in. Mom gave me a side smile and a nod.

"Why Mrs. Clarke, are you trying to seduce me to the dark side?" Chloe grinned. "I would look hot in thigh high boots."

"It's not at all like what you think Chloe," Mom said. "In my relationship with my Dom, who's needs comes first, mine or his?"

"I'm going to psych your question and say yours," Chloe said.

"Yes the Dom should always put the sub's well being ahead of anything else. Bill would never have me do something he knew would jeopardize me or, by extension, my family. That's why I trust him. If I didn't, I wouldn't be his sub."

"Something to think about," Chloe said.

"I have to get going," I said. I had a bunch of things to think about too. Any more and it would start oozing out my ears.

Mom picked up her purse and stuffed her phone into it. Then she grabbed the dress. "I wish we could stay and chat all afternoon but we each have places to be."

We parted ways with Mom and then Chloe and I parted ways after retrieving our things from the backyard. I couldn't walk out to the street with her because I had to put my toys in my room. We did share a kiss.

I had a lot of shit to think about. I cataloged questions as I walked. Was Mom actually grooming Chloe to be Greg's Dom? Who set up the whole anal beads scene, Mom or Uncle Bill? Who decided the door should be open and when? Was it just for me to see or the both of us? Or was it all just happenstance?

And who was the big black dude walking Wagner?

He wasn't as tall as Uncle Bill, nor as dark. But he was far more solid. If he had an ounce of fat anywhere I would be surprised. It didn't look like he worked out so much as he worked hard for long hours.

The RANGER T-shirt was a big clue. He looked like someone who hauled a hundred pounds of gear over two or three mountains before breakfast.

His hair was high and tight over a surprisingly youthful face. Not particularly handsome but open and pleasant. He held Wagner's leash delicately, as if he were afraid of breaking the little pug.

He also looked vaguely familiar.

I walked up to him and said, "Who are you and what are you doing with Wagner?"

"I'm thinking you're Casey Clarke, the streaker girl."

"You didn't answer my question."

He held out his hand. "I'm Conrad Blake, the Havraneks are my grandparents on my mother's side."

Now I did remember a picture of him in uniform among assorted photographs on the mantle piece when I dusted.

I took the hand carefully, afraid mine would be crushed by his massive paw. His hand was dry, strong and a little rough. I liked it.

"And what's a streaker?"

"It was a 'decadent western fad' in the nineteen seventies and eighties. People running naked through public spaces."

"That sounds like Konrad," I said. "And I wasn't running nakies through a public space, I was standing in my own garage looking for a lost Jeep."

He looked at me like he wished he'd been there. I kinda wished he had too.

"And you seem to have an issue with wearing knickers."

"I have no problem wearing knickers out of respect for the Havraneks."

I watched his eyes and he parsed my carefully worded response. Go there, I thought. Please go there....

"Prove it."

"See?" I lifted my skirt. "What did they do, give you a power point presentation on the naughty neighbor girl?"

"No, just a one page fact sheet." He gave a wolfish grin. Beautiful straight white teeth flashed. "Really, they just couldn't shut up about you."

In the meantime Wagner had decided to complete his business and Conrad had to do the pickup.

"Are you really a ranger?" The world was full of poseurs these days. If all the 'former navy seals' in all the bars in the country got together, they'd form an army.

"Yes I am but I hope to become a Green Beret like my dad."

There had been another picture of a very dark soldier standing next to a woman who must have been one of the couple's three daughters. I knew two were still in Europe but the youngest was in the states at something called the Presidium teaching Eastern European languages. They were very proud of her.

"Do you speak Czech?" I asked. "What's holubki?"

"My favorite." He smiled. "Stuffed cabbage."

"We're making it this afternoon. I'm late. I don't want Amalia to start without me because of her hands." I started walking. He followed.

"It's obvious they like you and I'm beginning to see why."

I pointedly looked down at his cargo shorts. "I'm beginning to see that you do too."

"They said you were, um..." We had reached the porch. Conrad reached to open the storm door. I turned into him and looked up at his face inches away.

"I'm an aspiring slut from a proud family of sluts." I made my voice as husky as I could. "Can you handle that Con-rad?"

His gaze flickered about me like a dragonfly lighting on my arched eyebrows, my Cheshire grin and my heaving bosom. Yes heaving. Finally he wet his lips and asked "'aspiring?'"

"I take after my mom but two weeks ago I was still a virgin. Since then I haven't had much practice."

"'Practice.'" I'd reduced him to one word sentences. My slut power throbbed in my belly and settled down to warm my cunt.

The front door opened behind me. Amalia said, "I see you two have met."

I turned and smiled brightly at her. "Yes we have! I guess if Wagner can tolerate him, he must be okay."

"Come inside you let the bugs in." She turned and shuffled down the hall. I hesitates so that Conrad bumped into me as he stepped forward. I'm pretty sure that wasn't a gun in his pocket. I tilted my head back to look at him so that he knew that I knew. "Come on Conrad, don't let the bugs in."

I followed Amalia to the kitchen. Conrad followed me. Amalia turned to him. "Get out you big vůl! The kitchen is too small for three."

Conrad got. We womenfolk started cooking. If I thought perogies were hard, holubki were insane. And we made a lot of them. Many were destined for the freezer next to the extra perogies.

Any chance I could I peeked in the parlor where Conrad sat with Konrad. The grandson listened as the grandfather lectured. The young soldier seemed genuinely respectful but kept glancing towards the kitchen.

"You want his klobása," Amalia said. "It's plain to see."

I tried to think of something noncommittal to say.

"He is not like you," she said. "He is not very sophisticated. You could hurt him easily."

"I don't think an atomic bomb would hurt him," I said. "And sophisticated? Me?"

"You know what I mean," she said. "You will have many lovers. I think he is one who devotes to just one."

"Look at him," I countered. "Girls must throw themselves at him."

"They throw themselves at his černá klobása," she said. "Like you are now."

"You love him Amalia," I said. "That tells me there's more to him than... his physical attributes. Tell me about him?"

"In the schools for the your American army posts there are many mixed children. Not so much in other places. There was some trouble in a school in Virginia when his father was at the Pentagon."

"High school is a cesspit," I said. "Many students are more interesting in finding others to victimize than studying. You know what they did to my brother."

"Yes, but Conrad was new there and had no one he could rely on like your brother had you and Roger Sanchez. There was a fight. Conrad hurt a boy very badly. My grandson was arrested by the police but we were lucky there was video of him being attacked first."

"Was it a race thing?"

"Maybe, but it was mostly about a girl," Amalia said. "She was like the Redmon girl, a děvka. She used him as revenge against another boy."

Heavy. I changed the subject. "Does he like music?"

"He listened to somebody named Hootie but that was years ago." Could be worse, I thought. Could have been Nickleback.

"Games? Sports? Cars?"

"I don't know much, you should ask Konrad." She thought for a minute. "His father is from Baltimore. Crab fishing is a thing for many there. They spent some time together doing that. They were both smiling in the pictures with a big bucket of them."

All this time we were mixing, boiling, cutting and wrapping. My own hands were feeling pained from it all. How Amalia endured I don't know. Finally we put a glass casserole dish in the oven and Amalia set a timer.

"Where is he stationed?"

"Georgia, I think."

"When does he go back?"

"Tuesday, I think, he goes to see his parents."

"So he's a soldier on leave in a strange town where all he knows is his grandparents?"

"Yes..." She looked at me suspicious like. "Except now he knows you."

"He's a young healthy fellow..." I said. "With needs."

"I will not deny that," she said. "That would be foolish."

"Amalia, I am in awe of you," I said. "You life story, your wisdom, the way you treat me like a long lost granddaughter. You must think I am not a děvka, whatever that is."

"Please don't 'butter me up' as they say." But I could tell she liked it.

"My parents have given me permission to have overnight guests because they know I want and will do naughty things and they want me to be as safe as possible going about it."

"That is... unusual but also perhaps wise."

"And we both know Conrad will find someone to play 'hide the klobása' with."

"So why not you?" Amalia said. "Because..."

She pointed at my belly.

"I am safe that way," I said. "I won't go into details but, Mom being Mom, we discussed options and took measures long ago."

"Nothing is completely safe that way," Amalia said.

"I will someday be a loving mother just like my mom and you," I said. "When fate decides it's my time for it, whenever it happens, I will embrace it."

She kissed me on the cheek. "I know you would Casey."

"Let me take care of Conrad and I think he will come back to visit here many times."

"You are very persuasive."

"Because I'm right."

"Don't rub it in young lady." She swatted my ass with the towel she'd been using for cleanup. The old fashioned timer that had been ticking away pinged. She handed me a pair of oven mitts. "Now we turn them."

So you're probably thinking I'm going to be barefoot and pregnant tradwife, don't you? Maybe get a side gig in real estate or whatever?

I'm going to be a fucking engineer like Dad. Or maybe a field geologist like Uncle Bill. Whichever turns out to be HARDER. But I'm also not going to put my life on rails, every major decision having been made by the time I tossed my mortar board in the air at high school graduation either.

Of course I don't believe I will end up getting everything I want in life but it doesn't mean I can't fucking try.

So we turned the holubki.

I went to the living room and sat in Conrad's lap. Amalia came in and sat in her knitting chair.

"You never sit in my lap anymore," Konrad grumped.

"I'd crush you, you old goat."

"You're just afraid what might happen."

"Yes, I'm afraid I might crush you, you old goat."

"Conrad," I looked him in the eyes. "Can we take a walk?"

"Okay." He picked me up in his arms, stood and then set me carefully down.

We headed for the door. Wagner came scurrying after us, leash dragging from his jaws. Those bug eyes looked up at us. I said, "It seems we have a chaperone."

"Wagner!" Konrad called.

"It's okay," I called back. I clipped the leash in place and we set out.

I felt shy as we walked. Finally I worked up the nerve to say what I had to say. "I meant what I said earlier."

"You've said a lot of things," Conrad said.

"About being an aspiring slut," I said. "My mom is going out with a couple tonight and my dad is going out with someone else. I love and admire my parents Conrad. I plan to live a life like theirs."

"Oh, that." He was quite for a bit. "Not sure how I feel about that but I can understand how you feel."

"The only thing I regret about the situation tonight is that I can't show you off to them."

"Uh... so you think they would approve of us—"

"Fucking? Mom would hold my hand and kibitz on technique. Dad would beam down at his little girl." Or at least I imagined and hoped they would. Not sure how the reality would work out.

"Wow... just wow."

"Mom calls it radical honesty," I said. "Your grandparents are more circumspect but they would approve also. Already have in fact."

If anything that shocked him more than my parents' hoped for reaction.

"Your grandma and I talked," I said. "She told me about girls throwing themselves at you for your big black cock."

"I'm sure she didn't say that," he said. "Not that way."

"She said černá klobása.'"

"Yeah... You're good at that."

"What?"

"Pronouncing foreign words you just heard once."

"Thank you, you big vůl," I said. "But getting back to where I was going?"

"Okay, sorry."

"Never apologize for giving a compliment." Now who was off topic? "You and your dad liked going fishing?"

"Yeah." His face looked confused at my own non sequitur. "Why?"

"Your body... your cock... is just the bait," I said. Yummy yummy bait. "Many fish will nibble, only some are keepers. But you won't know which until you reel them in."

Conrad looked up at the sky. "And she has a way with metaphor. Thank you!"

I smiled at that but I was determined not to be led off topic again.

"So I know you may be uncomfortable with being seen as just a BBC bull." I turned toward him and looked him straight in the eyes. "You're going to meet many wonderful women in your life who deserve the special gift you've been granted. I would be honored if you thought I was one."