6 comments/ 50213 views/ 18 favorites A Tiny Decision By: MrIllusion I could not believe the number of coincidences that have led me to this precise moment. A Saturday morning, in the bathroom of a cabin in the mountains. All I had to do to tempt fate and perhaps set in motion a week-end that would be drastically different than the one I had planned, was to break a very small piece of plastic. Just a twist of two fingers would be enough to do it. Alone in the bathroom, with the toilet still noisily refilling itself, I held that little piece of plastic in my hand, hesitating. Snap. There. It was done. My heart actually skipped a beat. Had I known how incredible the consequences of this tiny decision would actually turn out to be, I probably would have fainted. What had I just broken? A small but essential part of a breast pump, of my good friend's breast pump. But let me start from the beginning. A couple of weeks ago, my girlfriend and I decided to spend a week-end at our friends' cabin, way up north in the mountains. From Friday morning until we decided to leave on Sunday, we would relax and get away from our regular daily lives. We had all known each other for a very long time, but after they decided to move more than four hours away from our home town, the friendship was put to a test. We still saw each other somewhat regularly, but after being practically neighbors for five years, the separation was difficult. So this long week-end would be a way for us to reconnect. Everything was set, many plans and ideas for the week-end were put forth; it was going to be a very fun week-end. But the Wednesday just before our getaway, two incidents happened. My wife Carrie's last aunt died, and while she hadn't seen her in a long while, that aunt had been very important to her when she was younger. Not only did she feel socially obligated to go to the numerous ceremonies, but she truly wanted to. "You don't have to come, Alister," she told me, "You barely even met her. I'll be alright, and I want you to enjoy the week-end without me." It was a huge let-down, but even without my wife, I was really looking forward to seeing our friends. As quickly as that, our foursome became a trio. I think it was only two hours later that we received another call, this time from Colin, our friend, who was as excited as I'd never seen or heard him. "You won't believe this man, " he told me, "I just got a call for an interview with Caltex Designs!" All of a sudden I was nearly as excited as he was: Caltex was one of the better and cooler design firms this side of the country. Getting a job there has been Colin's dream since he graduated. "But, " he finally said to me, sobering up, "the interview is Monday. Yes, this Monday." My heart sank. Not all the way down because I knew that this job was more important than our week-end, but suddenly everything was unravelling. "I'm still coming, Alister!" piped in Erica, joining Celin on the phone. She was, understandably, just as excited as her husband. With their first baby about two months away, such a huge promotion would ease their financial concerns once and for all. With mixed feelings I congratulated them once again on this wonderful opportunity, but I also had to break the news that Carrie wasn't coming either. There was a significant silence following that. They offered their condolences, but they also realized that this probably meant that the week-end was going down the drain. "Why don't you and Erica both go?" That was Carrie, from the bedroom, while she was packing her stuff for her trip to her parent's. Even with only my side of the conversation, she had understood the situation. I put the speaker-phone on. Apparently hearing her suggestion, Alister said: "Good idea. It will leave you to a chance to catch up for us two that won't be going, and of course talk psychology all week-end long!" It was an old joke, and we all laughed. Erica and I both graduated in psychology, and while she decided to go all the way I chose philosophy as a post-grad student. Carrie and Colin were interested in the field, but not for hours on end! I grinned when I heard Erica's voice: "Sure! I'm game!" I heard the smile in her voice, and I knew that the week-end would be fun after all. Not as good as we had planned, but still fun. The following morning Carrie kissed me good-bye and rode away for the six hour drive to her parent's house. On his side, Colin buried himself in both theory and practice, wanting to be at his utmost best for the interview. The next day, Friday, I arrived at the largish cabin at around 7pm. As autumn was slowly creeping in, the sun was starting to set, and the temperature was chilly. The weatherman promised us great weather for the week-end, but cold nights. "All the better" I said to myself: and indeed as I was getting out of the car, I saw that Erica had started a nice fire. I had called her twenty minutes ago, and when I came in she looked up form the table she was setting up, and grinned at me. Once again, as it happened every time I see her, I was stunned by her beauty. And since the pregnancy obviously agreed with her, she was positively glowing. She ran into my arms and gave me a huge hug despite her belly, and all my reservations for the week-end disappeared. She was gorgeous, her hair a lot longer than I remembered, she smelled very good and the cabin was filled with odors of wood and good food. As she walked back to the kitchen I looked at her: middle height with curves in all the right places, she had always fascinated me. Beautiful, womanly, very sexy and intelligent women were not easy to come by. Yet despite meeting before each of us found our spouses, we never hooked up. One drunken night nearly made it happen but the sobering morning, each in our own beds, strangely enough was the last time we came close. I shook my head a grinned at the memories, trying to forget them. But Erica was looking at me, a strange expression on her face: "What were you thinking about?" An old question; as two psychology students, we had asked each other that question countless times. Before I could think it through, I started answering. Old habits I guess. "I was just thinking about the night when..." and then I stopped. And flushed. Being a psychotherapist, Erica saw right through my nervous grin easily. "Oh my God!" she said, her eyes widening in surprise. "The first time we see each other in months and all you can think about is the night we nearly had sex?" I was mortified. I closed my eyes, feeling my skin turning lobster red. And then I heard her laughing. I opened my eyes, surprised in turn, and saw that she was not laughing at me, but with me. "You don't mind?" I asked her. "Of course not Alis." She was the only person allowed to call me Alis. To my ears it sounded feminine. From her lips, it sounded, well, quite nice. "Why would I." She continued. "Actually," she said, walking towards me with a sly expression, "if it makes you feel better I confess that I thought about that night too, in the car on the way here." "What?" Before I could say anything else she stood up on her toes and kissed my cheek. Walking to the kitchen again, her back to me, she said: "And now you look at me and only see a fat, pregnant cow." She used a tone so sad it nearly broke my heart. I've met so many pregnant women who hated their pregnant bodies with a vengeance. "Oh come on Erica, you know me better than that. Now you're just fishing for compliments. In fact, if you remember I have—" And then I stopped myself again. Cursing that once more it was too late. Erica knew fully well that I was an incorruptible breast man, that I liked them full and round and big. I told her about that years ago, when she had teased me about her bra size. She had found a way to slip that into a conversation. 32EE. She then laughed when she saw me swallowing. I actually swallowed noisily like in cartoons. I had been aware of her breasts since the day I met her, but that 32EE information was just too much to go by unnoticed. And to my shame, right now a blood boiling fully blown shame, she also knew that I have a pregnancy and lactation fetish. Oh the things psych students share with each others... Why in hell hadn't I thought of that before now! What's the point of studying the human mind for years if it cannot help you out of such situations. "Alister, " she said softly, "look at me." I looked up, unable to talk. She had a serious expression on her face, with a small smile lightening it up. "You also know me better than that. And I *do* remember what you were about to say." After a pause, she added; "Thank you for the look you gave me when you came in. You have no idea how long it's been since a man looked at me like that..." Another pause, more awkward this time. "Let's just say that Colin doesn't share your fetish or fantasies..." Oh the things psych students say to each others... The oven timer rang very loudly in the little cabin. Erica's expression broke and she stared laughing. "Oh my Gods! How often does such a timing actually occurs!" I joined in on her laughter, and slowly walked towards the table. While she was busy with the food, my mind had just enough time to catch up to everything that had just been said. Or implied. And I had a chance to really look at her. Her pregnant body was magnificent: she had gained some weight on her face, but really just a touch, and the rest of her body was silently screaming womanhood and femininity. She still had her long legs with nice flaring hips, and even though her very round belly was now dominating her silhouette, she was still as graceful as ever. And her breasts, usually at the forefront of her beauty, looked like two crowns above her pregnancy. Two generous crowns. Two, actually, generously *offered* crowns. It was only then, after taking a deep breath, that I realized that Erica was dressed in a very peculiar way. Not overly sexy, nothing that didn't fit with the context of a week-end in the mountains. But it was also clear that every movement she made threatened to reveal her bra, and that regardless of how she was standing or sitting, her impressive cleavage was in glorious display. So my dirty mind was not solely responsible for the conjured up memories of a drunken night. She had always had massive breasts, that were now just about impossible to comprehend with all that milk, and she had done nothing to cover them. Quite the opposite actually. This was certainly not a regular maternity bra; way too much skin. I looked at her squarely and said, slowly: "Erica." I paused until she looked up, "You're gorgeous." She gave me a smile and replied: "Thank you Alister." We both knew we were crossing some sort of lines here, but the mood was overpowering. We spent the rest of the evening and early night talking about everything. The present, our married lives, how those marriages changed our lives, how we didn't live up to our own dreams... The past also crept up slowly into the discussions as we reminisced about the time when the four of us spent a lot of time together. And finally we broached the subject of our own past, hers and mine, before our friendship grew into a foursome. She couldn't drink because of her pregnancy, now at seven months, but I had no such compunction. I knew I shouldn't be drinking a lot tonight, with the strange discussions and Erica's breasts that seemed to be staring right at me. But then again, Erica was an old friend, and never during my four and her six years of marriage had we ever seriously considered any infidelity. Even less so with each other. So even if tonight seemed to be special, I didn't think anything about the weirdness and enjoyed the very nice whiskey she had found for me. I was just a bit hazy when she got up and announced that she was going to bed. She laughed at me as I stumbled and nearly fell on the floor as I got up, but I wasn't all that drunk and regained my balance easily. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and said: "I'm really glad we're here, Alister. Not quite what we had in mind, but spending time alone with you will be nice as well." "Good night Erica." I replied. "I'm glad I came too. Sleep well." And we went to our respective bedrooms to change. We crossed each other in the small bathroom to clean up before the night. Her nightgown was not exactly transparent, but it was not a thick cotton either. Her pregnancy curves were obvious, from her enormous breasts to her belly, hips and buttocks. She really was gorgeous, but I refrained from commenting on it a second time. The close proximity of the small bathroom would have made the compliment even more intimate than my earlier one. I did give her a nice smile, hoping that she would recognize the implicit compliment. A few minutes later the entire cabin became completely dark. Dark, quiet, silent. Exactly the opposite of what my mind's eye was seeing. I had fantasized about Erica quite a lot when we were both students. Then only occasionally afterwards, mostly after seeing her in a bikini. She truly was gorgeous, gorgeous and sexy and oh-so-desirable. But after her marriage, then mine, these fantasies grew rarer. Tonight, well, tonight was another story. Nearly as soon as I was in my bed, my cock grew to its full length and my right hand was wrapped around it. I nearly laughed out loud when I realized this, knowing that it had not happened in a long time. I kept silent though. Thankfully the bed didn't have a metal frame or a box spring, so I wasn't afraid of making any noise that would give me away. To my surprise, I heard a noise coming from Erica's room. The soft purr of a small electric motor. My over-aroused mind decided instantly that it had to be a vibrator. Images of Erica, naked, pregnant, glistening with sweat, pushing a vibrator into her pussy exploded in my mind. I even heard her moan. But the following noise was more of a grunt, then a decidedly frustrated sigh. By then I was curious, and my mind was clearing enough that I realized that she would never use a vibrator in a perfectly silent cabin. I spent the next few minutes listening, hoping that I'd hear something that would make me understand what was happening. The purring suddenly stopped and I heard another, quite louder sigh of frustration. Perhaps emboldened by that still-hard cock, I asked through the walls: "Are you alright Erica?" "Oh! I'm sorry. Yes I'm alright... It's just that damned finicky pump." "What?" I asked, not understanding at all. "Oh damn it. My breast pump. For the milk." I paused for a few seconds, trying to reconcile the new images that popped in my head with the real concern I felt for her. "What? Er, I thought that women only started producing milk after giving birth." "Ya. Most women. It's a long story." A short pause, then, "Would you mind coming here, I feel stupid talking through the walls." Without thinking I got up and started walking to the door, only to realize that my cock was still hard, and that talking about Erica's breasts was not helping. I was wearing nothing but my boxers, and there's no way in hell I was going to be able to hide anything. I quickly grabbed my tee shirt, pulled my cock upwards, trapping it in the elastic waistband and hoped that my tee shirt would hide it. Yeah, right. In the darkness it would... As it turns out, Erica turned on the table lamp as soon as I walked in. Then again, she seemed way to frustrated about her pump to notice anything else. She was still wearing her nightgown, and was sitting on her bed. "Gods I'm sorry to bother you with this, but this damned pump is about to give out on me. Can you look at it? You always were good with gadgets." "Sure." I said, sitting down next to her while trying to make sure that my cock was not too obvious. "But why do you need this so early? Or should I not have asked? I'm sorry..." "No it's alright." she replied, while I was trying to understand the pump. "For some hormonal reason my breasts produce colostrum and even milk very easily. If I don't pump some of it out regularly, my nipples become very sore. If I wait too long, my entire breasts hurt." "Wow... Ok." I said stupidly, completely mesmerized. "Have you been like this for long?" "Just about I started dating when I was a teenager." "What? You've been using pumps like this all this time?" "No, no!" She laughed. "Once in a while I'd end up with a boyfriend who would really like to suck my breasts." Instinctively, I made a gesture with my hands and mumbled a "Of course". She looked up with a smile, and I looked down at the pump again, flushing to the roots of my hair one more time. What the heck was wrong with me! "I'm sorry Erica... I really don't know what's wrong with me tonight." "Don't apologize Alis..." She sighed and her smile disappeared. "You have no idea how badly I need compliments right now... But this is an entirely different subject." Her tone was perfectly clear: we were not going to talk about this. She went on: "Anyways... I learned very early on that my breasts could produce milk very easily. Mom said she was like that as well. And the doctors all reassured me that while this was rather rare, everything seemed fine with the baby." "Oh." Was all I could manage to say. "Ok. Er. Well, I'm not sure I can fix this pump. How often do you need to use this?" "Quite often now." She sighed again. "I sure hope that my baby will be hungry often!" "Don't you have other ways of, er, relieving the, er, pressure?" This discussion was going further down the road of total awkwardness. Erica didn't seem to mind, but I was starting to feel utterly uncomfortable. "Well, as I said earlier Colin doesn't quite share your... er." "Oh. Er, I'm sorry?" By this time she was uncomfortable too, and I was about to explode. I actually twisted around on the bed, like a little kid scared of an oral exam. "Oh man! What is happening tonight!" said Erica just before bursting out in laughter. "How in hell are we going to survive two more days!" and she stopped talking because she was laughing so hard. After taking a deep breath I laughed too, happy to see that despite the tension we could still laugh through it. When we finally stopped laughing, Erica squeezed my arm and said: "Go to bed Alister. I can skip it tonight, but it will have to work tomorrow..." Before getting up I closed the desk lamp, still hoping that she hadn't noticed my erection. After I closed her door, while I was trying to find my own door across the hall, I heard her voice: "Alister, is it really painful to walk when you're like this?" I closed my eyes, uselessly in the darkness, and smiled. She had noticed. I decided not to reply. A few seconds later, I heard her laugh through the walls and smiled again. This week-end may very well be awkward, but it was certainly going to be fun! And finally I find myself in the bathroom, with the little broken pump in my hands. What was I hoping for? I don't know. I had images of her breasts getting even bigger, her nipples distended beneath her clothes, imagining her pushing the milk out manually, even thinking about helping her myself... But in the bright and clear light of the morning, without either alcohol in my blood or the darkness of the night, I felt stupid. "She would probably have to leave early for the city." I suddenly told myself. What a moron I am. I had just ruined a perfectly nice week-end with Erica. I got out of the bathroom, feeling down, and waited for her to wake up. It didn't take long; she had mentioned last night that sleep had become problematic during the last month or so. Still wearing her nightgown she drowsily walked to the bathroom, waved a hello at me and closed the door behind her. A very clear and definite signal was sent from her gently swaying breasts and very obvious nipples, all the way to the base of my cock. Each of her steps had made them dance and bounce all without the support of a bra. A Tiny Decision Once alone in the small living-dining room, I got up and try to shake off the incoming erection. It kind of worked, and I was suddenly glad that I was not 18 years old anymore. Not that I was getting old, understand me, but I was not just a man attached to a raging cock anymore. I was still young enough, though, to be a man with a raging cock attached to him. Big difference. While I was getting ready to fix breakfast, I heard the same purring and whirring sounds of the pump, followed by the same sighs and grunts of frustration from Erica. She got out of the bathroom and took an empty glass from the cupboard. "Damned pump!" was all she said. "Want me to look at it again Erica?" I asked. "Nah," she replied, walking back to the bathroom. "It's definitely broken. I'll have to, er, do it myself now." Then she closed the door. As I had dared to hope, images of Erica standing topless in the bathroom, bent over the counter trying to aim squirts of milk into the glass burst into my mind. I stood motionless in the kitchen, oblivious to everything around me, including the irony of a carton of milk in my hand. I could imagine her putting some sort of lotion on her hands and breasts to milk herself as smoothly as possible. In my mind she was now naked, bent at the waist, lovingly playing with her breasts and squirting long jets of milk into that glass. The lotion on her skin made her breasts glow in the sunlight, just like her long hair on each side and all the way down her back. "Oh for God's sake!" I heard Erica say loudly, with what I believed to be a string of curses I couldn't quite make out. Once again, reality had broken one of my fantasies. I walked to the hallway in time to see her get out of the bathroom. I noticed two things. First, she *had* used lotion, as I could see the top of her chest glistening between her gown's shoulder straps. Second, she was standing up sideways to me, directly in front of the window and direct morning sunlight. Wearing a gown that barely missed the cut of the "transparent" category. The result was that I was seeing Erica's silhouette as if she was completely naked. I could see the exact curves of her breasts, as perfect as they ever were; breasts that were reigning like comfortable queens above her belly; I could also see the smooth, flawless curve of that pregnant belly that, while still not as big as it would get in two months, was still massively majestic; the concave small of her back, amplified by her pregnant posture; the silhouetted curve of her ass cheeks that tightened quite nicely into the top of her thighs; and finally those legs that grew slightly into the rounded but still athletic thighs and calves. The sight was simply amazing. Erica was saying something, but for the life of me I couldn't force myself to listen. She soon realized that I wasn't fully there, and noticed how her gown was glowing. "Alister!" she said, her frustrated expression melting into a small smile. "Can't you think of anything else!" "Not really." I said honestly, with a growing smile myself. Erica was shaking her head slowly, but her smile was still growing, trying to fight her frustration. "Well, as much as you enjoy looking at me this morning, I can guarantee that your own silhouette will be interesting when you turn around." And then she pointed to my boxers, where my cock was making a very obvious tent. "Oh fuck!" I said with feeling, then walked to my room quickly. But as I was rearranging my cock into a more comfortable and less discernible position, Erica opened the door, laughing again. "Do you think I mind, Alister?" "What are you doing here?" I asked, pulling my hand out of my boxers, hoping that she would leave after her comment. Not so. Instead, she came in and sat on the bed. "Look Alis. We're both responsible adults, both old friends, both married and happy. And we've both seen each other naked once or twice in the past." Yes we had, and those two memories were still very clear in my mind. But she went on: "Right now I'm not comfortable wearing a lot of clothes and my breasts are starting to get sore." Her tone, more than her words, sobered me up. "I'm sorry Erica. Old prude habits. You know how it is with psychologists: we know and understand everything that can happen in our minds, but dealing with those realities is something else." I was sitting down next to her and I knew without a doubt that my cock was just as obvious as her breasts and nipples still were. "Ok. Erica. Let's think of these two days as something out of our routine and regular lives. I want you to be comfortable, or as comfortable as you can be." "Thank you Alis. So you don't mind if I stay in this gown all day long?" "Of course not. Actually, if we're going to be honest, I know I'm going to enjoy it. There, I said it." She smiled at me, a sweet smile that made her face forget everything about frustration. And then the smile changed a bit, and she asked: "All day long?" "Er, sure. Why not?" "Even if we go to the lake, or in the jacuzzi?" It was not fair: she had the power to create images in my head, apparently at will. "Well, don't you have a swimsuit, or bikini?" "I do." she said, laughing. "Don't over worry Alis, I won't tease you and your fetish..." "You won't?" I asked, the both of us knowing full well that she had already. "Well, I won't unless you want me to..." I looked at her, shaking my head. It was like I was spending the week-end with the old Erica. Or rather, the younger Erica I had known in school. And, as if to prove it, she got up and planted a kiss on my forehead. But when a woman with large breasts wearing a lose night gown plants a kiss on your forehead, what do you see? ...oh damn, this week-end is getting weirder and weirder! The rest of the morning and afternoon was fun and we didn't go to the lake to in the jacuzzi. But while Erica was on one hand comfortable in her gown, it was very clear that her breasts were starting to be painful. I had gotten so much looks deep into that plunging neckline, that I felt bad that they were painful for her. After another very good evening meal, and more of that whiskey (rather quite a lot more, actually), we settled down on the couch near the fireplace. The whiskey probably helped, and even though she wasn't supposed to, Erica took a few sips herself. And we both knew that would have liked to take more. At one point, after seeing her wince once too many times, I took a deep swig of whiskey and a deep breath, and asked her: "Can I do anything to help you with this Erica? I don't know what, but it's clear you're in pain..." "I'm sorry Alis, I didn't want to put you through this... I really don't know what to do." Then she smiled ruefully. "I'm pretty sure it's a universal male fantasy, but I'd give everything I have right now to be able to suckle on my own breasts." She laughed lightly as she said it. "And, er, why can't you?" I was thinking: your breasts are certainly large enough! "Well normally I can, but now they're so damn big and int he way all the time, and awkward, and big and frustrating and... Oh well, you get the idea." Another rueful smile. "But essentially they're too sore for me to pull them up so high." "Oh." A silence. Here was my gorgeous friend, her long hair tumbling down all over her, blazing red in front of the fire, her very large breasts the center of all attention and her nipples begging to be sucked. "Trying to milk them as if I was the cow I look like doesn't work. It's too painful. But without a pump, I can't do anything, and I after having tried once or twice, I can't suckle them myself either..." Willfully not censoring myself, I asked: "Can't I do it?" My tone surprised me: my question sounded like a joke. But Erica looked at me, laughed at my question, and then kept silent. Her eyes were locked into mine, and she wasn't smiling or joking now. I felt like squirming on my in place like a schoolboy once again. After so many very long seconds, she smiled softly and said: "Oh who am I kidding. I'm not drunk enough to let that silence drag on. And the problem is that I'm not even allowed to be drunk!" she laughed a short, somewhat sad laugh. "Well, I'm drunk enough to offer it." I said, surprising myself. "And I'm sure that if we were both drunk; or better yet perfectly sober but talking about two other people, we'd rationalize it without a problem." Her smile flared again, and she said: "Are you sure about this, or is this the little guy talking?" she pointed to my cock again. In my jeans it was not visible, but she could easily guess that I was at the very least partly erect. She was right, of course. "Oh forget about him. Or it. Or her... Damn it. Forget about that; and it's not so little OK?" We both laughed at that. "Why should he care: he's going to stay locked up down there..." Without giving me time to say or think anything else, she whispered: "Come here.", pointing to her lap. Without ceremony, she slipped the right shoulder strap of her gown down her arm, then revealed her right breast to me. I must confess that I stared at it stupidly for a long time. Her breast was perfect. Maybe it was the fact that it was resting on her belly, but it seemed to defy gravity and all rules of decency. Both motherly and erotic at the same time, it oozed femininity, raw sex and for now, not a trace of milk. I was fully aware that while I was officially helping her, this long moment of allowed contemplation was a much bigger gift to me. "Come here big boy." She whispered softly, a trace of a smile on her lips. I turned around and stretched myself towards her. With my left elbow between her hip and the arm of the sofa, I slowly rested my weight on her thighs. I placed my right hand on her belly and brought my head closer to her exposed breast. As gently as I could, shaking like a leaf, I opened my lips and licked them. I then started to lick Erica's engorged aureola, then her very large and distended nipple. I heard her take a deep breath, both from promised relief and sensual pleasure. When I closed my lips around her entire aureole, then let them slide until they wrapped around the base of her nipple, Erica actually said: "Oh dear Gods..." Suddenly her hand was behind my head, fingers intertwined in my hair, and she pulled me a bit closer. I opened my lips slightly to let her nipple in further, then closed them again, sucking it gently. Her colostrum or breast milk, I couldn't know at that time, started leaking inside my mouth. Not in giant spurts like I imagined, but as I started to suck harder, I could feel it all over in my mouth. The taste was very sweet and not quite sour. I couldn't really find words to describe the taste of that thick cream, and frankly I couldn't have cared less for words. I was a breast man virgin at that time, enjoying the first experience of an old fetish. I was, in other words, in ecstasy. Except, of course, for my cock. While I was comfortable in this position, my cock was definitely trapped in my jeans, and was starting to be painful. I didn't miss the irony, but careless of what it would look like, my right hand slipped under my jeans and boxers to move my cock into a more pleasant position. When I replaced my hand on Erica's belly I felt more than heard her laugh. "Better?" she whispered. I only nodded, unable to care about how inappropriate this entire situation was. Suddenly I realized that the other strap of the gown was folded back against my hand. I thought she wanted me to go to the other breast. But her hand in my head told me not to move. "No, no, no. Not so soon." she whispered again. Actually, all I could hear in the cabin was the fire. Everything else was silent or whispered. Erica grabbed my right hand and pulled her away from her belly, and second later I felt the very hot skin of her left breast under my hand. An alarm went off in my head as I started to gently massage her breast: this was not simply a way for her to relieve the pressure. But that alarm sounded from far away; so far I was surprised I heard it. When I pushed her breast up and closed my entire hand around it, as much as I was able, the alarm was drowned into too much pleasure. I felt some of her milk leaking on my skin, and felt Erica shuddered when my thumb slid against her aureola and across her nipple. Breaking from my suckling for a few seconds, without looking up, I said: "I'm not the only one enjoying this like a kid in a candy factory..." I felt her breasts shake a bit as she laughed, but she simply whispered back: "Shhh. Enjoy yourself Alis." And I was. At one point, still sucking some milk, I was also kissing her breasts, switching from one to the other, licking their sides and bottoms, playing with her nipples... We were clearly having sex. Pretty much mammary and oral, but sex nonetheless. As if to prove it, towards the end, Erica started playing with her nipple while I was sucking on the other. A few minutes later she actually came. Had a very real and noisy orgasm. I don't know how long we stayed like this. I didn't feel like I had swallowed all that much milk, but when Erica pushed me away, so gently that I never felt rejected, she was smiling and looked a lot more comfortable. We remained silent in front of the fire for a while, and when I came back to the sofa after placing a log in the fireplace, she grinned and thanked me. "You don't need to thank me Erica. You know perfectly well that this was one of my most intense fantasies. My bra fetish is linked to this, pregnancy, lactation, breast feeding... You've given me a gift that nobody else has before. And I'm so glad it was you. I don't think I allowed myself to fully realize it, you know how it is, but ever since you told us that you were pregnant, I've had this exact fantasy in my head." "I don't know what to say, exactly, Alis." She was grinning. "I'm happy for you?" and now she was laughing. "But as you, er, had to notice, the pleasure was not entirely yours tonight... And while we're so honest I have to say that I'm sorry, as weird and dangerous as it may sound, that I can't take care of your problem right now. I really am." My problem, was a very painful erection. She took my hand, squeezed it a few times, then got up. She kissed me on the lips quickly, then left for her room. But her head reappeared from the door, with a smile, and she said: "Don't ruin your pleasure by trying to be perfectly silent. I don't mind." And then she blew me another kiss before disappearing. After a deep breath I got up myself, freed my aching cock from my jeans and walked to my room. I knew I wouldn't last very long, and I had enough tissues to take care of the mess. But just before cumming, I decided not to stifle my moans. Erica would hear me loud and clear. I even decided no to stifle a word during my climax and I pretty much shouted: "Erica!" while my sperm was pooling around on my belly. ***** I woke up the following morning, our last day here in our strange little fantasy paradise, when I heard the shower running. I got up and served myself a tall glass of milk before reviving the embers to a new fire. Sitting on the cool sofa wearing nothing but my boxers, I think back on last night's evening. It really happened. It really did. Images and sensations flooded my mind again, but this time they were not fantasies, but real memories. Fresh, gloriously fresh memories of a fetish made real. As I finished my milk, I noticed that my cock was hard again: last night's masturbation helped, but I'm sure I was going to be spending the next few weeks constantly hard, remembering everything. Guessing that Erica would remain in the shower for some time, I decided to enjoy the sofa, the fire and the view through the large windows, and started to masturbate again. It would help me last through this day without making a fool of myself. The feelings were again excellent, memories were still as mesmerizing as they had been last night, and I had a box of tissues next to me. Everything was perfect, until Erica turned off the water. Was she the only women who doesn't like to spend 30 minutes in there every morning? I tried pushing my cock back into my boxers, in vain. Even if I succeeded, my erection would be as obvious as the deer-in-the-headlights look on my face. And then I remember that I had sucked on Erica's breasts last night in something that was definitely more than a mere releasing-the-pressure moment. She had even climaxed in my arms! So I tried to take a relaxed pose on the sofa, or at least as relaxed as you can be when your hard cock springs from your boxers, and waited for the to come out. When she did, she looked at me and started to say: "Good morning!", but it quickly turned into a "Good Lord!" And then we laughed together. "I'm sorry Erica, I thought I'd have more time with you in the shower... Waiting here seemed more dignified than running to my room like a kid caught peeping." "Yes, you're probably right." All she had on was a towel wrapped around herself, and one of her bras in her hand. We spend a good, long minute looking at each other in silence. I cannot even begin to imagine what was going on in her head during that minute. Heck: I couldn't even figure out what was going on in *my* head! Once more she broke the silence and said: "Why don't you take them off?" I did. Then sat back on the big sofa. Buck naked, with a pulsing erection in plain sight. When she smiled, I could just about read the expression on her face: "Oh, why the hell not?" With her free hand, she freed the towel from her body, letting it fall to the floor. My breath caught in my throat. Seriously. I actually had to cough. On this day she was a goddess: woman, mother, lover; goddess of fertility both in the promise of sex and the act of childbearing; she was everything a woman can represent, in the flesh, nude for me, a gift of pure lust. And even though she hadn't quite spelled it out, it was clear that this wonderful woman was not being satisfied at home. She slowly walked towards me, her red bra, a flimsy lace thing still in her hand. Even in this unnatural moment she still knew me, still remembered this part of my fetishes. Standing right in front of me, her legs on each side of mines, she whispered: "You know I still need to pump my milk out, Alister. Would you help me?" Before I could reply, had I actually been able to, she moved forward and kneeled above me, her breasts inches away from my face, her knees on the sofa, just against my outer thighs, her pussy impossibly close to my cock. She pushed me back against the sofa to make room for her belly and I felt it move against my own. "Drink." Was all she had to say. One of my hands slid from her thigh to her hip, the other one cupped her right breast and my mouth closed on her nipple. We moaned at the same time. I could feel that I could allow myself to be slightly more aggressive this morning, and I did. I was suckling on her breasts like a man too long trapped in a desert, drinking *her* to slake all those innumerable fantasies. Then I felt her small hand on my cock, felt her pulling it back towards her. Then contact. So warm, so wet, so soft. She pushed it up and down in her slit, pushing her lips open until the head was caressing her most intimate secrets. And then, as if by magic, she was lowering herself down and down, until she was impaled on my cock. She shuddered and moaned and cried out in pleasure from just that very first penetration. "Be gentle." She told me. "Let me guide our rhythm. It's been so fucking long..." And as she promised, she rose up, obliterating my senses with her pussy, overwhelming my mind with a fetish made flesh, as real as my cock inside an actually pregnant woman, a pregnant pussy. My mouth was filled with one nipple after the other, was melting in kisses on one of those glorious breasts after the other, the taste of her milk filling me... Her second descent around me was just as good as the forbidden and delicious first. And then I lost myself in her rhythm. A Tiny Decision I felt her bra caressing my face, and I opened my eyes to see Erica smiling down on me. She knew me too well. I had both her naked breasts and one of her delicate bras to play with. I could feel the soft lace against my skin, smell her aroma concentrated in the fabric, feel her desire to fulfill even another fantasy of mine. In less time that I thought possible, I felt my climax approaching. "Slow down Erica, I don't want it to end too soon." "Oh no I won't, and there's no way in hell I'm going to let this end soon." True to her word she increased her rhythm slightly, it had never been fast, and took longer strokes. About five penetrations later I exploded inside her, filling her already filed womb with my sperm. My head also exploded, and I had to release her nipple as my entire body arched backwards as I cried out in pure pleasure. Erica slowed down and finally stopped, but it was clear that she was not going to go anywhere. With one had keeping me deep against the sofa, she sat straighter and looked down at herself. "Look at me Alis. I need to see you look at me. Do to me whatever you do in your fantasies. Today I'm yours, my body is yours, my belly, my breasts, my milk, my pussy and even my ass if you want to. I'm all yours, I'm your living fetish. Take me. Make me feel desired, let me see your lust." My cock was already twitching. It has been a long time since that had happened so fast after an orgasm. Erica was glowing sexuality, eroticism, desire and lust. And she was mine; I needed her, just as much as she needed me. Pushing herself off with her hand on my chest, she carefully bent backwards, putting her hands on my knees. After giving me a last look, a look that burned hotter than the embers in the fireplace, she let her head fall backwards and started to fuck me again. I couldn't imagine a more exposed and vulnerable position for a pregnant woman. Her thighs were wide open around mines, her arms backwards like this gave her no means of protection or privateness, and her arched back was the truest offering of her pregnant body I could imagine. She could not have been more opened to me, more beautiful, more woman, more sex and lust. Even her pussy was splayed open by my cock, her opened thighs preventing her from hiding anything at all. From my reclined position I was seeing her entire body, the glory that was Erica, like I had never seen her before. All I could hear was her breathing and the sound my cock was making inside her. I was in heaven, in Erica. I remained in this trance for who knew how long. She woke me up when her own body gave in the pleasure. From one penetration to the next, she rose back towards me, wrapped her hands around my neck and jumped from her knees to her feet. Her huge belly nearly always touching me, she was crouching over my cock and fucking the both of us like a nymph in heat. We were in the cocoon of her long hair, now freed form a lose braid, and we were both screaming in pleasure. I could feel her pussy contracting around me with each stroke, my face and her breasts were covered with her milk, and I was pushing up with every one of her downward strokes. When she straightened up and pushed herself down, grinding her clit on my pubic bone, I felt my own climax rising. Her orgasm felt like a explosion in slow-motion. It started with a bang of very explicit moans and screams, then kept growing and growing until I was afraid she would lose her mind. In the middle of this storm I came again and understood some of what she was feeling. As deep as I was allowed inside her pregnant pussy I flooded her again, uselessly but in such ecstasy, and abandoned myself to the feelings with her. We took all the time we needed to get back down from that high. She even pumped me a few times, full length strokes even though I didn't feel like my cock was up to the challenge. She then ground herself more gently on me, pushing out even more delights and moans. Had I been 18 years old, I would have turned her on her back or side, and fucked her again. As it were we enjoyed this soft and very slow descent back into the real world. When we disentangled ourselves, she nestled her face in my neck and wrapped her arms around me on the sofa. The fire was slowly dying out, but were still too hot to do anything about it. To tired to do anything about, well anything. We had more than crossed a line here, and for now neither of us cared. We were rooted in the present. Tomorrow would be coming soon enough. As if reading my mind, she whispered: "We're soooo not done Alis. We have about 8 years of sex to catch up to my friend, before we have to go back down to the real world. Don't think about that... Save your energy for me."