Clementina, Chapter 2 – Symbiosis - Sex Stories

Clementina, Chapter 2 – Symbiosis

... 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 ...