Dad Wants to Talk while I Shower Ch. 02

My stepdad, Frank, never got further than watching me shower, drying my butt, and giving my buns a loving hug. I never locked the bathroom door, that summer, and Frank attended my showers whenever he was home alone with me. It was always cause he needed to talk with me, of course.

After that first confab, though, I did wonder where things were headed. Next time Mom was traveling, I found out. I came home late afternoon, from my run and stood in the living room talking with Frank as I stripped for my shower. He said, "You know what I've always wanted to do?"

Oh, shit. Long sigh from me. "No, what Dad?"

"Go to one of those topless dancing bars."

"You've never been? Jeez, I've even been. Just to see."

"Nope, but I want to go. Just embarrassing being a single male, there."

My black running bra tossed down on the heap. I rub my tits a little. Summer, you know; sticky in that bra. Flattens my nips. "What? Who else goes?"

"If you're with a girl you don't look so hard-up."

Cut to the chase. "I'll go," I said. "Once, maybe." I already had an idea for the whole summer. The idea's name was Naomi. She had come to the Academy my last year, there. Not as a freshman, as a one-year postgraduate. It's sort like, you go to a public high-school, then, before college, you do a year at the Academy to add luster to your academic credentials.

A black girl. In fact, she was into her roots: Maasai. Lion-hunting warriors in east Africa around where Kenya now is. Naomi knows her history—at least since about the late Nineteenth Century.

Her great grandmother, or maybe great-great, was taken by Islamic slavers on the Swahili Coast and sold in the slave market on the island of Zanzibar: stripped naked, chained around her neck, and marched through the street. Almost before they reached the market, men were calling out bids for her. All this is known because the family in Tunisia where she ended up as a household slave taught her to read. It was her daughter who wrote the first part of the history.

Anyone still reading? Got to get this thing moving.

Naomi loved talking about it. Easy to understand about her great-great. Naomi had about the most perfect erector-set I ever saw. Tall, broad in the shoulders, long legs. Perfect face, big eyes, lips to die for. Dark skin that seemed to glow all by itself. Her breasts looked as though someone clapped on handfuls of clay to make bigger and bigger perfect mounds, with an incredible swooping valley between and nipples from which you could hang a heavy "make you bid" sign. Sorry, a little tasteless.

She braided her hair; I watched her, once. Took hours. She didn't braid her pussy hair, though; that was a very puffy natural Afro. The only soft-look part of her torso; otherwise, she was smooth and hard as oiled ebony.

I loved Naomi, but she drove me nuts. Naomi loved everyone. She could not say 'no.' Her big, soft eyes would blink, and she would say, "He just wanted SO MUCH to play with me tits." Or: "She wanted to see it, so I couldn't say 'no.' She's so sweet."

Drove me nuts. I said that. "The guys wanted me to go with them to that swimming hole on the Housatonic. They're so sweet. I went skinny. They really wanted me to."

I will not make any facile comments about her ancestry. Naomi is super smart, assertive, ambitious. She just can't say 'no.'

Actually, the girls more than the guys took advantage of her. I got so pissed; but trying to be her protector was hopeless. I mean, one evening in the dorm, the girls get her talking about the whole slave thing and it quickly gets very hot. To Naomi all her wonderful friends are interested in her family history.

You know, so, so curious about how Maasai women are built. Before you know it, Naomi is naked. I stalked out the room, but, I've got to admit, I couldn't stay away. I get a Coke from the kitchen and return. By now, Naomi is lying on her back on the bed, with her legs drawn up and back. What the fuck!

Jessica asks, in her best classroom participation voice, "Were slaves ever forced to have their labia pierced, do you think?"

Naomi, still on display. "Oh, I know they were! A link was fastened in one of their labia and a chain could be hooked to it."

Kate, with some feeling, "Ouch! That must stretch you. Does a woman ever tear?"

"That I don't know, but I've tried the chain links."

"Oh, shit, no," I moan, but I was getting slightly hot.

"I have them in my jewelry box."

Naomi, shut the fuck up! What was I going to do with this girl?

Yep, they were chain links. Not delicate little silver loops, either. Looked like links of a chain you put on tractor tires when you plow driveways.

So, naturally, we had a showing. Naomi wasn't pierced; these were sex toys, even so. Now, she's sitting at the edge of the bed, her long, perfect legs spread wide, and her labs are hanging stretched down like a bloodhound's dewlaps. She is gently massaging her pussy. Jessica has knelt down, really close, for scientific observation. Now, Jessica is gently tugging on a link, looking up at Naomi so see the effect. Naomi gives a big smile. Love.

And so, back to the present. I know that Naomi is home for the summer, in Brooklyn. I have an inspiration. "Dad, I want to bring along a girlfriend, okay? You're going to love her."

And I mean, 'LOVE'.

"Two women? Sure, great. Not going to look hard-up at ALL. Tonight okay?"

"I'll call Naomi."