Clementina, Chapter 2 – Symbiosis [re-post]

This is Chapter 2, which comprises parts IX – XII. What happened to part VIII, you ask? That’s just an interlude and date between Clementina and Russell and, as such, slows down the story so I moved it to the end of this posting as an Appendix. You can read it if you wish, or skip it. Below, I start straight in on Part IX.

Just a reminder: this is partly a horror story, so consider yourself warned.

Clementina, Chapter 2 – Symbiosis

PART IX

“Well it’s about time you two lovebirds got back,” said Ona. “We’ve been planning on how you will make me a white queen.”

Ona outlined their plans, and showed some diagrams in the journal I had brought up from the front phallite chamber. We chatted about it a bit, then Clementina and I changed out of our previous night’s clothes, and all four of us walked out to the barn and took the back stairs into the rear phallite chamber – the one that had been the dark phallite’s domain until we purged it.

I had only been down in the rear chamber a couple times since the day we purged the dark phallites, and a sense of dread still haunted me when I entered. But the room now had a coating of healthy, clear slime everywhere and the pulsating, pink, vaginal tunnel leading back to the queen’s chambers glowed cheerful and healthy. White phallites sluiced happily in the slime that lay three or four inches deep in the chamber.

Ona and my mother began pointing out features and laying plans, but I was more just distracted by my memories – the memories of finding my father’s rotting corpse in a corner and of unknowingly fucking his dying paramour. I shivered and instinctively turned in that direction, wandering to the spot where I had found his body, touching the stone that had once been coated in thick dark phallite material and turned into a chamber of torture. A tear welled in my eye.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned. My mother stood behind me. She reached around and hugged me from behind.

“I know it’s been hard on you,” she said. “You loved him more than I.”

I nodded.

“But he was so distant,” I said. “I don’t think I really knew him at all.”

I ran my hand up the stone wall, now coated with a healthy layer of white phallite slime. With the chamber was cleared, and better lit from the glowing, gaping entry to the royal chamber, I could see the walls clearly. They were ancient limestone, and damp with their own moisture where the slime was thinnest. Long lines of impurities ran through the rock where cracks had formed and allowed water to trickle in. In places calcifications hung down or rose up from the base. Along the walls, some of the cubbies even had stalactites and stalagmites.

Something caught my eye. One of the calcified cracks almost looked intentional, or man-made. I followed it along and realized it ran completely around the chamber, connecting with each cubby. That was odd. I pointed it out to my mom, Clementina, and Ona.

Clementina walked around the chamber, tracing the crack completely around then stopping in front of the pink tunnel leading to the empty queen’s chamber.

“It seems to go in here,” she said.

I had only been in the royal chamber once – when I cleared out the dark phallite eggs then used the pump to suck out all the dark phallite slime and organic material that had lined the walls. It was another bad memory I wasn’t looking to repeat. But Clementina gestured to me.

“Come on, Russel,” she said. “Let’s go check it out.”

Because of the omnipresence of the slime that ultimately coated everyone and everything that entered, trips into the rear chamber were usually conducted in swimsuits, underwear, or nude. Clementina, my mom, and Ona had all opted for just thongs and bikini tops, and I was wearing swim trunks. As Clementina crawled down the tunnel to the queen’s chamber, I followed, staring at her phallite-induced ass in front of me, and the narrow cord of the thong that failed to cover her perfect, pink, puckered asshole that I had reamed out the previous night.

I felt my cock stir in my shorts, despite all the bad memories that had been flooding into me ever since we entered the rear chamber.

I pushed those thoughts to the side and focused on the task at hand. We slipped from the slimy birth-like tunnel into the royal chamber. The chamber was about ten feet wide. Clementina pointed to a spot on the wall. I followed her gaze. The crack we had been following in the rear chamber continued here, coming around the chamber wall and ending opposite the entryway. I approached the terminus of the calcified crack. At the very end there was a notch carved into the limestone, a few inches wide, and a smaller stone had been fit into place.

It looked like some kind of a button.

Clementina and I exchanged a glance and I pushed the stone. It slipped backwards, grinding into the notch.

From behind us, back in the rear chamber, we heard a loud crack and the sound of stone grating on stone.

“Whoa, fuck…” came my mom’s voice. “Guys, get back out here now!”

I dove into the pink birth-like tunnel and squirmed through the slime out to the rear chamber, Clementina behind me. When I emerged, my mom and Ona were staring at the first cubby to the left when facing the pink tunnel. I turned and caught my breath. The entire back wall of the cubby had pivoted backwards opening into a dark tunnel beyond. The tunnel door was raised about two feet off the floor I noticed, seemingly designed to make sure the slime coating the floor of the chamber stayed there.

The pink glow from the birth tunnel didn’t extend beyond the first two or three feet of tunnel. Past that there was nothing but blackness.

I looked around the room, counting.

“There are six other cubbies here,” I said. “Are they all doorways? If so, how do they open? The switch in the queen’s chamber only opened one. And if these are all doors, where do they go?”

Clementina looked around too.

“This room isn’t just a chamber for the phallites, it’s like a nexus where tunnels come together. But where do they all go? And, like you said, how do we open them?”

“Is there anything in your journals?” I asked.

“Not that I’ve seen yet, but I haven’t gone through the ones we just discovered.”

“Did you know about these?” I queried.

“No, we didn’t,” Clementina said. “And thank God we didn’t. If Ona had known about them and hit the button in there when she was dark queen we might still be chasing dark phallites all over hell and back.”

I shivered at the thought.

We grabbed lanterns, climbed up on the lip of the tunnel, and started down it.

The walls were damp with moisture – but not slime, just regular cave dampness. The tunnel continued straight for about fifty feet, then turned right, then left, and proceeded ten feet before opening into another chamber.

The room was about the size of the room with the statues where I had originally met the friendly light phallites. And there were other similarities. Against the far wall stood a large statue standing about twenty feet tall, almost bumping up against the vaulted ceiling that soared to a dome over our heads, barely visible in the light from our lanterns. Before I could approach the statue Ona said, “hey look” and suddenly the entire room was illuminated by a series of lights mounted against the stone walls a few feet below the ceiling.

I turned and looked at Ona, who stood next to an electrical switch on the wall.

“I guess we’re not the first people here,” said Clementina.

“So your forebears knew about this room,” I replied.

“I guess,” she repeated, and turned to Ona. “Let’s just not touch any more switches or buttons without investigating them first. I get the feeling not all switches may do things as benign as turning on the lights.”

We all murmured an assent and turned back to the statue that stood at the front of the room.

The statue was of a woman showing many of the typical phallite-induced features – large, milk-swollen breasts, narrow waist, wide hips. The woman’s mouth was open and a long, snake-like tongue extended from her lips, hanging down far enough that it stopped just below her navel. Had she leaned her head forward, she could have easily licked her own vagina.

Even more shocking than the tongue however, was the splayed snatch. She did not have normal labia – not even normal by phallite standards – instead she had six tentacles sticking outwards and forwards, reaching as if to pull something into gaping maw of the vagina in the center. At the top of circle of tentacles was a swollen clit. The tentacles were almost as long as her legs.

The woman was squatting down, her legs splayed, her vagina seeming to open about six feet above a stone carved platform that was shaped as if it were some sort of a reclining bed or such, where a person could lay down with their head and shoulders elevated. In front of that, there was wide urn or container that was carved from the stone between the statue’s knees in front of her. The way the urn was carved left me the impression it was some sort of well and that it went down far below the floor into the bedrock.

“Wow,” my mom said. She stepped forward, looking at the statue that dwarfed her. The container underneath the graven woman came up to about my mom’s navel. She leaned forward and looked inside.

That’s when all hell broke loose.

Something shot out of the liquid that was in the urn and grabbed my mother around the shoulders, pulling her downwards into the urn. The fluid that splashed from the urn wasn’t water – it was red – like blood, only thinner. My mother’s top half disappeared into the blood-like liquid and her legs flailed in the air as the thing – whatever it was – tried to drag her under.

Chaos reined, everyone shouted at once. Ona grabbed one of my mom’s legs, Clementina the other, and pulled. I reached down into the bloody fluid, feeling for her shoulders and pulling, but something wouldn’t let go. I struck out with my hand, trying to find something to hit, but found none except for a single appendage that was wrapped around my mother’s midsection underneath her breasts.

My mother slowly, inexorably disappeared under the red fluid.

I leapt up on the rim of the urn and was about to dive in after her when the red soup erupted out in front of me, my mom rising into the air above the urn, her body covered in the blood-like liquid.

At first I thought she was levitating, then I saw the appendage wrapped around her midsection, hoisting her in the air. Her eyes were closed and her head lolled to the side, unconscious. A trickle of the red fluid ran from the corner of her mouth, her hair was slicked wetly to her skull.

Behind me Ona screamed.

“What is that? WHAT THE LIVING FUCK IS THAT?” she cried, backing away slowly until her back was against the far wall. Clementina and I involuntarily both took a step backwards but remained only a few feet from the urn, looking for an opportunity to jump in and pull my mother out from the thing’s grasp.

But then a curious thing happened. Instead of doing anything seemingly hostile, the strange reddish tentacle very gently laid my mother down on the stone chaise. My mother lay back, resting her shoulders on the raised portion. She coughed once, and her eyes opened. She looked across the mouth of the urn at Clementina and I, standing aghast in the room beyond. Our eyes met, then we both looked at the thing in the urn.

The red appendage reared above the urn, it’s tip pointed at my mother. I wished I had an ax or a shovel or anything I could use to whack this alien freak that was threatening my mother. But the tentacle lowered itself to the edge of the urn, then softly and slowly slipped up to my mother’s feet.

It moved softly, gently, in a fashion that was not in any way menacing. In fact if I hadn’t seen it drag my mother into the red fluid I would wonder if it presented any kind of threat at all. It slipped up her leg and up her stomach, between her breasts, until it’s tip hovered before her lips.

Then it very gently, softly, kissed her.

“Well isn’t that just the cutest…” Clementina said.

“Cute?” I rejoined. “It just dragged my mother into the drink. I hardly think it was cute.”

“Maybe it didn’t know and thought it was being threatened. Maybe it overreacted and just realized we weren’t hostile. Aw, look, it’s adorable.”

Soft mewing sounds were emanating from under the red water in the urn. I cautiously approached and looked down into the liquid. It was clear enough that I could see at least six or seven feet down. Beyond that was something large that blocked much of the well, though I couldn’t see what it was. But there were at least two more tentacle-like arms slithering around in the liquid, and quite possibly more.

I turned my attention back to my mother. She had lost her bikini and thong in the chaos in the urn. She lay on her back nude, with the tentacle positioned so it climbed up from the bottom of the chaise, ran between her legs, riding up across her small bush and navel, up between her breasts, to her face, where it was softly nuzzling her cheeks and planting kisses on her lips. My mother stroked the length of the thing, running her hands across it’s damp, scaly skin like it was her pet. More of the mewing sounds drifted from the urn.

As my mother stroked it, the thing began to pulsate, sliding itself back and forth across her skin, pressing itself between her mountainous, milky, phallite breasts, pushing into the hollow between her thighs and rubbing against her thick labia and clitoris. My mother stroked the creature more, moaning herself in response to the mewing that continued from within the urn.

The tip of the tentacle kissed my mother again, and she opened her mouth. The very end of the appendage slipped between her lips. She ran her hands up along the length of it, stroking it as if she were stroking a cock. She leaned her head forward and sucked more of the thing into her mouth.

Ona had moved forward and now stood next to the urn.

“Wow,” she said. “I wonder if I can get any of that funky action.” She lifted one leg over and was into the red fluid before I could stop her. A moment later she, too, rose up in the air held by another tentacle, except she was deposited carefully and gently back next to me, and the appendage withdrew to hover over the urn.

“Huh,” I said. “I guess it’s only one customer at a time.”

While Ona had been testing the waters, my mother had been providing fellatio to the first tentacle. I could see the distension of her neck as she deep-throated the thing. The second appendage that had handled Ona also slipped into play, sliding up the chaise next to the first, except this one stopped between my mother’s legs, hovering outside her slit as if waiting for permission to enter.

My mother looked down at the second tentacle, which ran it’s tip up the opening between her labia, then caressed the underside of her thick engorged clitoris that was peeking out from its hood. Slime poured from my mother’s pussy and ass, surging with the attentions from the slick appendage. She reached her hand down and pulled her meaty lobes apart, spreading her slick, slime-filled snatch for the creature. The tentacle hesitated for a moment, then slipped inside. She moaned as the member slipped deeper and deeper inside her.

Both tentacles now set up a back and forth motion, sliding in and out of her mouth and her slit in perfect synchronization. My mother closed her eyes and let the creature do the work, surrendering herself to the experience. She moaned around the tentacle that was penetrating her throat as fresh gushes of slime coursed from her snatch, her ass, and her mouth, pouring over her body and the scaled things that were invading her.

Her breasts poured a steady stream of milk as the things worked on her, the liquid dripping from her long, wide, erect nipples atop their engorged, pendulous mounds. My mother moaned again, arching her back as an orgasm overtook her, more slime pouring from every orifice.

“Jesus, that’s hot,” Clementina said. She pulled off her bikini top and thong, letting her own milky phallite breasts swing free. She leaned her elbows on the edge of the urn, spread her legs and gestured to me. Her ass hovered in the air above her pussy, both pouring out slime, her asshole already gaping in anticipation of what was to come. Clementina reached back and slipped two fingers inside the pink, puckered orifice, stretching it open even wider, the pink crumpled flesh begging to be penetrated.

“Make love to my ass, lover,” she said. “Fuck it like you did last night.”

Never one to argue with a request like that, especially a request to fuck a perfect phallite ass – and the first perfect phallite ass I ever set my eyes on – I pushed my swimsuit off and stroked my phallite cock that was already well on its way to being hard just watching my mother. Slime slipped from the gaping tip and I rubbed the shaft with the clear goop. Another glob of slime formed in my throat and I spit it on my palm and rubbed it across my purple, pulsing cock.

I stretched Clementina’s asshole even wider with my fingers. Her pink flesh pushed out in a beautiful pink rose. I almost came before I entered her just looking at her slimy ass flesh, but I caught my breath and slid my meat inside of her. Pushing in the entire fifteen inches until my balls pressed against her slimy labia.

Ona was laying on the floor of the chamber. She, too, had ditched her swimsuit and was fingering herself frantically, first with one finger inside, then with two, then her entire hand. She rolled over onto her knees and leaned forward, sliding her entire fist of her left hand inside her slit, and the entire fist of her right hand inside her ass.

I worked my cock in and out of Clementina’s ass, her sheath gripping my shaft. I reached around to squeeze her nipples, sending streamers of thick, sweet milk into the red water in the urn. I retched and gagged as I spat out fresh globs of slime from my throat onto Clementina’s ass that was shaking and jiggling as I fucked it frantically.

Suddenly I felt a shiver run through my body, and as Clementina had predicted a day before, I felt a slither of slime trickle from my asshole. It wasn’t what I had expected – it was pleasant.

I looked across the urn to my mother. While I had been fucking Clementina’s ass, another tentacle had emerged from the pool. My mother was now on all fours and had a tentacle in her mouth, a tentacle in her pussy, and a third was hovering over her pink gaping, slightly prolapsed asshole that she was fingering and stretching, begging the thing to penetrate. Slime slid out as the thing circled the outside, teasing my mother, who moaned through the immense appendage that was now deep down her throat, spreading her lips painfully wide. But the look on her face was not one of pain but of ecstasy. Finally the tentacle slipped into her gaped anus and she arched her back again, jiggling her wet, engorged breasts and sending fresh shots of milk squirting across the stone chaise.

The third tentacle joined the first two in the rhythmic pulsing, throbbing and pounding of my mother’s body. I could see the distension of her stomach from the ones in her abdomen, and the extreme distension of her throat from the appendage in her mouth. She looked used. She looked hot.

As for me, I was still having my way with Clementina’s cavernous phallite asshole. Slime, grool, and pre-come mixed together in an unholy potion that poured from her sphincter with every fresh stroke of my cock into her. I jerked back, pulling out and stretching her sheath out behind her, then plunged back into her bottomless phallite asshole. She leaned back, pressing her back against my chest and forcing my cock hard against the front of her abdomen, distending her stomach. With one hand I reached around and stroked my cock through her skin, with the other I squeezed her milk-laden breasts, sending thick streams of milk across the urn.

From within the urn two more tentacles emerged. With little hesitation or pause, they made a beeline straight for my mother’s asshole, pushing in next to the one that was already in play, squeezing three thick slimy appendages inside and stretching her pink sphincter beyond what I would have considered possible. Her sphincter and her anal sheath both stretched out along the length of the tentacles insanely, impossibly with each stroke of the thing. Her sphincter pulled along the tentacles for three or four inches and her sheath three or four feet. But when my mother moaned, it was a moan of pleasure, not pain. Whatever these things were doing to her, she enjoyed it and wanted it to continue.

Watching her get fucked by this alien creature while my own cock was deep inside Clementina’s perfect ass was too much. I felt my balls start to contract and thick globs of my come shot into her. She moaned and turned her head back, kissing me as we came together, sticky waves of semen and slime pouring out of her ass around my cock and running down our legs. We both groaned together.

On the floor beside us, Ona reached her own self-induced climax, leaving puddles of slime on the stone underneath her.

Across the urn, the thing continued to ream out every hole my mom had. She now had three tentacles in her ass, two in her pussy, and one gargantuan appendage down her throat. How she even breathed was a mystery to me. Her tits jiggled and her ass shook.

But even that had to come to an end eventually. With a shudder and a convulsion, my mom came again, the final orgasm in an uncountable string brought on by the beast. Slowly the tentacles began to withdraw, first the three from her ass, then the two from her cunt, and finally the biggest, thickest one from her mouth. The last appendage to pull out gently picked her up and deposited her softly on the other side of the urn, next to the three of us, who were recovering from our own exertions. Finally all six tentacles withdrew into the well of red fluid within the urn.

Slime and an unknown pink fluid was pouring from my mother’s widely gaped ass and slit, and a smaller trickle ran from the corners of her mouth. I grasped her shoulders and looked into her eyes.

“Are you okay?” I asked her.

She was a little shaky, but she nodded, then smiled.

“I think I am more okay than I have ever been in my life,” she said. She hugged me, then Clementina, and Ona. “That was fucking incredible.”

Ona stepped forward.

“Let me have a look at you,” she said.

“Have a look at her?” I said.

“You might not believe it,” Clementina said. “But she’s a nurse, though she’s not working as one at the moment.”

I fought back a sneer that threatened to curl my lip. Ona, the woman who had been responsible for my father’s death was a nurse?

“Why aren’t you working as one?” my mom asked as Ona put her ear to her back.

Ona listened to my mom’s heart and breathing for a moment, before answering.

“At my last position there was a young man who came in. He was homeless and was having trouble breathing. Someone found him on a grate unresponsive. After a bunch of tests it was discovered he had stage 4 lung cancer and was near death. He spent two weeks in the hospital then went to hospice. He was estranged from his family and he had nobody. Despite what you think of me, and despite what I did that caused your father’s death – a burden I will carry with me until my dying day – I really do care about people, and I want to help them. In his time at the hospital he and I became close. He really was a good guy who had some bad breaks. I started giving him sex when I got off shift. The hospital figured it out pretty quickly but looked the other way. Sometimes there’s more to nursing than just taking temperatures and giving pills. When he went to hospice I continued to visit him there. At the end he wanted to die. His heart was starting to fail, and I knew that if he was too excited for too long a period it would probably give out. So I gave him what he wanted…” She trailed off.

“Ona fucked him to death,” Clementina said, finishing what Ona couldn’t. “It was an act of love and compassion. He died happy, but the crushing grief after made her take a sabbatical from her work. Her light phallite was already getting old, and the emotional toll pushed it over the edge.”

“Is that when you came back and became a black queen?” I asked.

Ona nodded. “I wasn’t in my right mind. I was crushed and wanted something to make me feel different. Edging with a dark phallite was a new experience. For awhile I could feel different. But then things got out of control.”

She looked down, then turned back to looking over my mother. The conversation trailed off into silence and my anger and resentment towards Ona over my father’s death subsided a little. I even felt sympathy for her.

Ona declared my mother healthy, and we all stood up and headed towards the door.

Before we left the chamber, I turned one final time and looked up at the statue, the woman with the phallite-induced body, the preternaturally long tongue, and the gaping tentacle cunt. Something about it suddenly bothered me, though I couldn’t put my finger on it.

In the back of my mind I counted. There were six tentacles around the vagina of the statue. And there were six tentacles that came out of the water and penetrated my mother. I glanced over at her, but she seemed to have recovered. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but I kept my discomfort to myself.

We slowly made our way back out of the chamber with the long-tongued statue back into the rear chamber, which we would forevermore call the nexus chamber, then back up to the barn and home.

PART X

The sun was sinking in the west as we made our way back to the house, tired out from our explorations in the caves. Nobody said anything, I think we all were still processing what had just happened. I was still feeling pensive and uncomfortable about the statue and about watching my mother have all three holes reamed out by some bizarre tentacle monster. I kept glancing over surreptitiously at my mother. She had lost her suit in the scuffle in the well, and was naked as she walked down the path in the late afternoon sunlight. But she looked just like she had that morning, and like she had ever since she took the phallite on and adopted the usual phallite female body – large, heavy, milk-laden breasts; wide aureoles and long nipples; thin waist, wide flared hips, thick labia, heavy clitoris, and slightly gaped vagina and ass. In her case, being a gym rat, she coupled that with toned muscles that meant she had fewer curves than Clementina or Ona, but she was not the lithe woman she had been before she took on a phallite.

But she looked just like she had before she had gone into the caves that day, there was nothing outwardly changed about her. Still, some internal radar – maybe my phallite – detected something about her that left me nervous.

We returned to the house and Clementina and Ona went inside, but my mother and I hopped into the pool for a dip. After swimming around a little, my mother came next to me where I stood leaning against the side of the pool.

“So how was your night out with Clementina?” she asked. She asked so casually, so normally, as if she hadn’t just taken three huge tentacles up her ass courtesy of the friendly cave monster from hell.

“It was nice,” I said, trying to match casual with casual. “We had a nice dinner, then went back to the hotel and had an incredible night.”

“Do you feel more attached to her now?” she asked. I noticed she didn’t use the “L” word.

“I do, I really adore her,” I said. “But nowhere near as much as I adore my mother.”

I meant it as a casual throwaway complement, and followed it up with a peck on my mother’s cheek. I hadn’t expected anything to come from it, especially since we had expended all that libido in the cave. But my peck on the cheek was followed by a full kiss on the lips from my mother. She positioned herself in front of me, pressing her heavy, firm breasts against my chest, then kissed me again, even harder, forcing her tongue into my mouth.

I pulled back slightly, and she looked at me quizzically.

“Aren’t you at least a little worn out after taking six tentacles inside you just a few minutes ago?” I asked. “Your asshole was insanely stretched – both in terms of gaping width and in terms of how it was pulled out along the thing’s tentacles. I would think you would be sore as hell right now.”

“No, not at all,” she said. “I feel great. I think I’m hornier than I was before.”

She reached down into the water and pushed my swimtrunks down to my feet, then began running her hands along my cock, stroking it. No man with a phallite on board can keep his cock soft when a woman with a phallite on board starts rubbing it. And I was no exception. Even though I was still troubled by my mother’s behavior and disturbed by the whole set of events in the cave, my cock had a mind of its own, and a moment later I was at full attention, standing out over a foot. My mother pressed her body against mine, pushing my cock against her stomach and up into the cleavage between her breasts. She squeezed the milk-heavy globes together, squishing my cock between them as the first surge of slime squirted from the tip, and creamy golden, licorice-tinged milk trickled from her long brown nipples into the water.

My nervousness slipped away, overcome by the surge of desire that raced through me. I bent down, running my tongue over her wide, pebbled aureole and sucking the long, brown nipple into my mouth. The sweet, intoxicating milk flowed across my tongue and I swallowed greedily, sucking another mouthful and carrying it up to my mother, where I passed it to her when we kissed, some of it trickling down our chins. I bent back over, squeezing the other breast, squishy with the milk inside. I pointed the nipple at my mouth and squeezed, spraying some into my mouth, some across my face. My mother pulled my face into one of her breasts and I suckled greedily as she dribbled a streamer of slime from her lips across her other mound and massaged it, squirting milk across my shoulders.

She lifted her body up and slipped her gaped slit down, devouring my waiting cock. Her motions immediately became passionate and frantic. My back was pressed against the side of the pool and she held onto the lip and pressed her knees and feet against the side as she pushed her body up and down my shaft. Thick slime oozed from the tip of my cock into her cunt, mixing with her own and adding even more lubrication as the flesh of my cock rubbed against the walls of her slit.

She pushed herself all the way down on my cock and I felt her thick lobes pressed against the base, her hard clit pressing against my abdomen above my member. I squeezed her breasts as I felt my cock tighten and the first salvo of juice shoot inside her.

My mother leaned forward and hugged herself against me as our orgasms ran their course, my seed filling up her pink, deep, waiting pussy. I leaned back against the side of the pool and closed my eyes. I felt like my very life was draining out of me as my semen surged into my mother’s body.

My mother kissed me on the lips.

“Did mommy do good?” she asked.

“Mommy is always the best,” I said, kissing her back. She pulled herself off my flagging, erection and hopped up onto the deck nimbly, while I still lingered in the pool.

“Are you coming in?” she asked. “There’s more where that came from if you want it.”

“I’ll be in eventually,” I replied. “But I think I’m done with fucking for now.”

“If you change your mind you know where to find me.” She winked and disappeared into the house.

I leaned my head back against the side of the pool and closed my eyes as the setting sun turned the back of the house burnt orange. The past 24 hours I had done nothing but fuck. Even with a phallite, I was worn out. Even more worn out than I would have thought I should be. And that last quickie with my mother had been the last straw, I was done.

The back of the house opened and Clementina came out. She was still in the thong bikini she had worn into the caves earlier. As she approached I looked at her, noticing how beautiful and desirable she was with her curvy, sultry phallite body. But I hoped she wasn’t looking for any hanky-panky because I was just about spent.

She sat on the edge of the pool next to wear I sat, dangling her feet in the water.

“Hey, lover,” she said.

“Hey yourself,” I replied.

“You look beat,” she said, looking me in the eyes. “I think we wore you out.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “I can barely stay awake.”

“You need to be careful with that phallite in you. Men especially can get worn down quickly.”

“Is that one of those things that make it ‘not to simple’ to recruit male phallite hosts, they get tired too quickly?”

“That’s…part of it,” she said, twirling her legs in the water.

“Can you tell me the rest of it?”

“I guess I owe it to you, don’t I?” she said, and sighed. “I’m not sure how to say this.”

“Is it really that bad?” I asked.

“You know how I came home after my phallite died and didn’t take on another parasite until Ona put a dark phallite in me? And you know how Ona came home when hers died to take on another? It works that way for women, but not for men.” She trailed off.

“So…how does it work for men, then?” I had turned and was looking straight at her as I said that.

“Every man I know of, and every man I have found records of the old journals – except one – all died when their phallite died.”

“What?!?!” I exclaimed. “So I die when my phallite dies? How long do they live?”

“Usually eight years, give or take. It depends on the phallite, the host, and how old the phallite was when it entered your body. I’m so sorry Russel, I really am.”

“And that one guy, the one who lived, what did he do differently?”

“Nothing that I can see in any records I can find. It seems on the surface like dumb luck. He went through a bunch of them before he died at a really old age, like 140 or something like that.”

“So if it doesn’t kill me, it makes me stronger.”

“Seems like it.”

“Then we have eight years to figure out what made that guy survive when all others failed.”

“I’m sorry I had to tell you this, and I’m sorry I dragged you into this in the first place,” Clementina said.