Uncle Clyde in the First Ward Ch. 02

UNCLE CLYDE IN THE FIRST WARD: ROOM 201, MRS. K

FOR INTRODUCTORY INFO ON UNCLE CLYDE'S CHICAGO, SEE 'UNCLE CLYDE IN THE FIRST WARD:CH 1', BY THE SAME AUTHOR.

*****

Uncle Clyde told me this one during a Birthday party for my Cousin Greg, who's an Asshole. Greg hates my guts too, so we're allright with each other. Uncle Clyde also hates Greg, but he hates everybody in the family, except me and my Step sister Sadie.

"No kidding? You like Sadie?" I asked him.

"Yeah, great kid! She got me Sox tickets when everyone else was getting me Life Alert Bracelets. And she reminds me of a tenant in that building I was telling you about."

"Hold on, Clyde, let me refill your glass..."

"So, Sadie's got that Long Blonde hair like a damn Norse Goddess, right? And that fine ass...yeah, I know she's family, but Damn Daley in Hell, we gotta call a spade a spade unless my friend Ted's in the room, cause he's black and he takes that shit seriously, so then...we'll call it a trowel. But your step sister's ass was just like the Girl in room 201. . ."

So I'm 22 and I'm the building supervisor in a brownstone owned by Alderman Hinky Dink McKenna in the First Ward of Chicago Lots of guys called Hinky Dink crooked, and they were dead right. Lotsa guys called him the finest man they knew, and they were even more right. It was Chicago in 1910, and you gotta remember that in the First Ward, prostitution and other stuff that usually ain't legal, was legal as all get out! Now I worked for Hinky Dink, and I ran his building, but most of the tenants were respectable folk. I didn't Cadet for the whores or nothing like that. However there was one of them New Telephones in the back room on the first floor, but the girls only used it during Conventions and Holidays.

It had been just a couple days since I got my first rent discount from Mama Rosetti, I told you about that last time. Mama had kept her word, and everything was hunky dory with her, we got along fine and she even joked about our time together, but still kept her distance while other people were around and when it was just us, like proper ladies did back then.

So Mrs Kracowski sent word that her sink was broken, again. There was this weird turn the pipes made in the building which gave her faucets the squirts, ah, intermittant water pressure is what the son-of-a-bitch 100$ a fucking hour plumbers call it now. Her husband's a engineer on a passenger steamer that cruises Lake Michigan. He was a good joe, but he was gay. Yeah, weird to think there were Fags...sorry, LGBTQ folk back in 1910, ain't it? Sure, there was more than you think, people just like Jerzi. Now we didn't know it for a while, but we figured it out a few years later. He had to keep that kind of thing secret back then. You'd lose your job, your friends...shit, they'd beat people to death over that kind of thing.

So I'm fixing the pipes, and I'm making some progress and I hear sobbing coming from the other room. I crawl out from under the sink and peek into the bedroom. Mrs Kracowski was looking out the window, tears streaming down her face, her arms folded in front of her. She had that golden blonde hair like a lot of women from Poland do, and she had it up in those complicated braids that made me think of Christmas sweet breads, She was fresh from Poland, she and Jerzy. They had emigrated right after their marriage, and although she got the language down pat, hell, she talked better than me, she was still kinda finding her way.

She had her peasant's dress on, something she only wore in the apartment, so they wouldn't make fun of her in the streets for being a bumpkin. It suited her slender build and strong shoulders, and the half sleeves showed off her tanned supple arms. The loose cotton material was open in the front, and showed more cleavage than was custom for back then. It took a lot of effort not to sneak a peak. At the moment though, I was just trying to figure out what the hell the trouble was and if I was the cause of it.

"Mrs Kracowski, are you okay? You want me to leave?"

"Am I an ugly woman? Do I disgust men? Do I disgust you, Mr. Clyde?"

She said the last sentence right at me, and the idiocy of that lovely blue eyed face asking me something like that made me laugh out loud, and that made her yell at me.

"Don't laugh at me, Mr. Clyde! I'm being very serious!"

"Oh Come on Mrs K, how can you be? You're not just pretty, your gorgeous and . . . look, we're here alone and I don't want to say anything that ain't proper. . .

"Oh pieprzyć! Please, please for the love of my sanity would you say something that ain't proper?"

"What?" was my brilliant response.

"I was raised on a farm killing chickens and watching cows screw since I was nine. I had five brothers who screwed more than the cows did. Then I come here, surrounded by people who don't talk about anything and a husband that won't touch me unless i get him drunk and attack him."

"Oh wow, hey, I like Jerzy and I don't think..."

"Of course you like him, you don't have to live with him. Everybody likes him!" She was yelling now, not a hysteric yell but more of a mad angry yell, the venting kind of yell, like I've hear men do all the time. "I like him too. But I am living like a Nun. Like a Priest. Like a corpse!" She was waving her arms about and moved to stand between me and the window. The afternoon sun fell on her back, and silhouetted her legs and hips under her thin cotton dress, proving she had no underskirts on, and that was rare as hell in that time. "So will you please say something that ain't proper. That's crude, that's rude, something that will make want to slap you!!"

First Ward kids always take a dare.

"Is your fanny as sweet as your tits?"

Oh, fanny meant cunt back then.

She stared at me for a second. Then slapped me. I'd been slapped harder for a fuckload less. I just smiled and walked away. She ran after me and got between me and the door. She slapped me again, her eyes blazing with a new fire that wasn't anger, wasn't rage, it was something else. I stood there staring at her, pinning her to the door with my hard look.

"Why'd you slap me?" I asked her with my quiet menacing tone that usually splits the fearsome from the fighters. This one, she's a fighter I figured. Her shoulder twitched to slap me again and I stopped her with a word.

"Don't."

And when she didn't, I think I saw what was going on.

"Yeah, you're not really hitting me, hitting him, aren't you? Jerzy, I mean."

She sagged against the door. Why does truth always seems to be the opposite of anger, I don't know. But it was with her. I guess shared truth is more the thing. Some stuff can rot if you keep 'em in your head too long, rot and ferment. So get it out, even if it hurts.

Just then the door opened, pushing Mrs K aside and me as well. It was Jerzy. He looked at me with a wondering expression, like you do when you find a young strapping German in your house alone with your wife. I then saw him shake off the wonder and smile, like a guy never does when he find young strapping german home with his wife. I mean, you could fucking smell the tension in the air, you know? Women slapping men and yelling, and Mrs K not ten feet away, sobbing? I turned that menacing tone I mentioned onto Jerzy.

"Jerzy, we need to talk."

I didn't give him a choice. We went for a walk and I got him a little drunk. After a bit, I got the truth. He was a fairy. He hated woman's pussy's and he liked dicks. I never knew why Homo's didn't bother me, that stuff never did. I wasn't one, not even a little bit, and some guys would loose there shit if they even got teased about that kinda thing. Usually, those guys were the ones keepin' it in the trunk. What? Oh yeah,they call it the closet now, right. Nothing changes, my boy, except the color of the box they pack the bullshit into.

We talked for a bit. He had a guy on the steamship he was fucking. He couldn't tell his wife anything about it, and he felt so crappy about the whole thing that he never wanted to be home, he couldn't even look her in the face. I thought about Mrs Rosetti, and then Jerzy and I made a deal. I knew Mrs K would fuck me, her slapping me was just Irish foreplay. But I don't screw no man's wife, that's asking for a bullet in the back. But now that we'd talked, I figured that Jerzy wasn't really this woman's actual husband, and he would appreciate a little help in this area.

When we got back to the apartment, it was night time. Jerzy and I burst through the door, arm in arm.

"Woman, approach me!" Jerzy's English wasn't as good as his wife's. He worked with too many other Poles on his boat.

She came out, her eyes red from crying.

"Clean your self, woman!" Jerzy commanded. He was not used to giving her orders, as Mrs K's strange look to her husband testified. She washed her face in the basin, and dried it tenderly. She really was a beautiful woman. Her features were sharp, but not cold. Her nose came to a little point that was cute as hell.

"I have a war wound!" Jerzy said. It was all I could do to not roll my eyes. God, he was a shitty liar.

"You have never been in a war." Mrs K said calmly.

He looked at me to save him. I gave it a shot. "A street war, he meant.. He got jumped."

"Yes, I was jumped upon and war wounded."

Mrs K squinted a little, she could smell the bullshit. "I don't remember that."

"I was away on the lake. The boats' doctor fixed me up. I no needed to worry you." At least he got that part of the lie right.

"And because of wound, I cannot make the . . the. . . sex with you." Jerzy finished.

"Oh...that's why you are telling me all...this." She looked at me, but I kept my thoughts off my face. "And why does Mr. Clyde need to hear about your war wound?"

Jerzy took a deep breath. He then went to his wife and took her by the arm to their bedroom. He began to undress her, while I watched from the doorway. Mrs K looked back and forth between me and her husband, but he silenced her and continued to removes her dress, shoes and stocking. Mrs K was lean and prone to muscle, but not in a masculine way. Her tits were firm and close to her body, and her ass was lean mound of delicious rump that I did not keep myself from looking at. Jerzy coughed to get my attention. I began to remove my clothes and when I was naked both the K's were giving me appreciative looks.

Jerzy then took my arm and led me to his wife.

"Give to her what I cannot. Be for her what I cannot. Wife, take this from me." He put our hands together and motioned us to the bed. I wasn't sure he would have the stones to do it, to be frank. But here we were, a husband literally giving me his wife.

I laid her down in the bed and got on top. She was a little stiff in my arms until we heard Jerzy walk to the door, and then close it behind him as he left. Then her legs clamped around my waist and she rolled me onto my back. Before I could do anything, she had one hand at my throat and the other at my balls.

"Listen now. Whatever we do, it is because I say it will happen, understand? Not Jerzy, not you, but me." She gave my balls a little squeeze, which made me grimace.

"Hey, this was your husband's idea."

She smiled a cruel little smile. "Sure it was. He wants your cock as much as . . .shut up!" She tried to squeeze my throat tighter, but my muscular neck wouldn't let her get the painful response she wanted, so she squeezed my balls again, and that worked. "I know how to protect myself. At anytime I can rip your balls off, you understand?"

"Yeah, I do, and I believe you."

She let go of my balls and took hold of my cock. This time she was out for pleasure, not for pain. A few strokes was all it took to get me hard again. She then threw a leg over me, guided my cock into her pussy, and tried to sit down on it. It wouldn't go all the way in right away. But she rocked back and forth, and forced my fat dick into her pussy. Damn it was tight! Inch by inch she worked that thing in until her firm ass was resting on me. Her eyes were closed and her lithe form was arrow straight on top of me.

"Don't you dare cum until i tell you." She said, keeping her eyes closed. She started to move side to side, and then back and forth, and then in small circles, like she was learning how to use her pussy or something. Which she probably was, being married to a guy that hadn't screwed her in years.

"Your cock is almost too big." She said, sounding like an English teacher correcting and essay. "Almost." she cooed while lifting her pussy all the way off of my cock, and then slamming it down hard. She grunted like a guy throwing a crate onto a truck and then she slammed her pussy down on me again. And then again, it was like a pile driver digging a hole, wham, wham, wham! I tried to put my hands on her hips, but she batted them away. She leaned forward with her hands on my chest and picked up the pace of her fucking, with her eyes still closed. She didn't give a damn about me, or what I was thinking about this. She was scratching a deep itch, and I was just along for the ride.

Her shoulders and chest were totally still as her ass went up and down on my dick. She then sat up, got off my cock and turned around, and reseated herself on my cock. With even looking over her shoulder she said, "Now you can look at my ass, but don't touch."

That was fucking cruel, watching that excellent ass sliding up and down with being able to touch it at all! She kept on going, doing the same tricks backwards that she did frontwards. She then laid back, all the way back, until resting on me entirely, Every inch of her body was resting on mine. She held herself there, moving in tiny little ways, like a living blanket.

"You can fuck me now." She said, tonelessly. I started to move. "No. Like this. Fuck me from where you are laying."

I hadn't done it like this before, so I had to figure it out.

"I'm going to have grab your ass." I warned.

"You may." She said it like I think a Queen might say it.

I got my hands on her and scooted her up a bit. Then I was able to get my cock into her pussy, and started the buck my hips up, which gave her a good length of my dick with each stroke. It wasn't easy, let me tell you. And she knew it. In fact that's why she wanted it. She laid back on me like I was furniture, not lifting a finger while I pummeled my dick into her. She started to match my thrusts with her hips; how I don't know! This girl had to be a damn acrobat. The thing was, she wasn't doing it for my sorry ass, she was doing to get herself off. Every move and twitch was to get her pussy right where she wanted it, whether it felt good on my cock or not. I just kept pumping up into her pussy and let her fuck me back any way she wanted to.

She reached back and grabbed my hair, using her fingers to get two handfulls of it in her small but strong hands. She then tugged on the locks she had grabbed, like a horse's reins. I got to a sitting position, which made my cock slip out of her pussy, but she kept going, leaning further forward, inch by inch which let me adjust my legs from under her, and releasing my hair at the last moment to let herself fall flat on her

stomach with me, on top. It was the deftest damn thing I ever saw. Good word 'deft'.

"Now finish me from here. Pound me hard into this bed, and you may come when you can." She only turned her head to the side a little to tell me all this. She opened her legs just a bit so I could get my cock back in her, and and soon as I did, she closed her legs tight. As ordered, I pounded into her hard, pressing her deep into the mattress. I kept expecting her to complain, but she didn't. I was trying not to cum, mostly out of spite. But her tight pussy and that ass that pressed against my pelvis at every stroke was just too much. She could feel me starting to tense up.

"Are you ready?" she asked me so casual I almost got insulted. I was working my ass off on this pussy! I grunted that I was and then with a last animal thrust I came into her. She froze for a split second and then bucked and shuddered. Her pussy tightened up and spasmed so hard it forced my cock out of her pussy with a audible splat. To be honest, it made me a little scared. I had never felt a vagina that strong. Yeah, that wasn't a pussy, that was a fucking Vagina.

She lay still, breathing heavy, not turning over or doing anything that said she knew I was even in the room. I figured she was done with me. After I caught my breath, I put my clothes on and went to the door. I had to move a little slowly as Mrs K had battered me five ways to Cicero. I had pulled open the door and was about to leave when she touched me from behind. I turned around, half expecting a slap. Mrs K was standing there, wearing a Japanese style robe. Her hair was stuck to her face with sweat, but she was smiling a sweet easy smile. She leaned over and gave my cheek a soft kiss.

"Thank you Mr. Clyde." She turned and went back to the bedroom.

After that, Jerzy came home a lot more often and you could even see him and Mrs K. laugh and joke with each other. Everyone in the building talked about the change, and everybody gossiped about why, even me. If I hadn't, it would have looked weird.

Anyway, your stepsister's ass looks just like hers.

Here endeth the Sex Lesson.