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Subject: FINAL REPOST: Lactogenesis LIV 

LACTOGENESIS LIV:  THE CLEARING

	Christine stirred and began the process of returning to the world
of the living.  Though she was only now beginning to awaken, details began
filtering in despite her closed eyelids.  Judging from her seated
position, she was still in the back seat of Edward's cab.  She moved her
head and felt matted hair sticking to her neck.  She was still filthy,
covered with the residue from the party-turned-disaster away from which
Edward had abruptly spirited her.  She must have dozed off as the cab sped
away back toward Negril.  It must be very late, or perhaps early the next
morning.  Everything was strangely quiet; there was no sensation of
motion, no engine or wind noise.  They must be stopped somewhere.  Maybe
something's wrong, a flat tire perhaps.  She felt cold.  She moved a
little and felt the seat back rub against bare skin.  She must still be
naked from the waist up, a consequence of having been forcefully removed
from the party just before being heavily damaged by the woman in red satin
and her beefy male cohorts.  As Chris climbed up toward full awareness,
she noticed something else, some activity in the vicinity of her
breasts...
	Her eyes snapped open; she let out a little yelp and jerked
backward.  Immediately she felt a hand remove itself from her left breast.
 It was Edward's.  It was wet with mother's milk, as were his lips and
chin.  When he'd realized that Chris had fallen asleep, Edward had pulled
the cab over, climbed into the back seat, and started fondling and even
trying to milk her.  His clumsy attempts had been only partially
successful; he'd gotten some milk but had also awakened Chris.
	"What *is* it about this place?" Chris cried indignantly.  "Is
everybody here sex-starved or something?  Can't I exist here without
somebody trying to turn me into a human drinking fountain?!"
	"Not looking like that, you can't," Edward replied coolly,
referring to Chris's state of undress and her fully functional mammaries.
	"I don't appreciate being taken advantage of," Chris said
savagely.  "Were you planning to rape me, Edward?"
	"No, sweet lady, no!"  Edward said.  "Old Edward, he just wanted a
little taste, that's all."
	"Look, Edward, I appreciate what you did for me tonight, and under
other circumstances I might have considered it.  But this was too much. 
I'm burned out.  I've had it.  Just take me back to the hotel."
	"Now let's not be ungrateful.  I could have left you to the wolves
without a second thought," Edward said ominously.  "Come on, girl, just
let me have a little taste of your sweet momma's milk.  I don't want
nothing else..."  He moved to try to pin Chris against the seat, his hands
again going after her breasts.
	Chris braced her hands against Edward's shoulders. 
"I...said...NO!!" she yelled, and at that locked her legs around the lower
portion of Edward's rib cage and began squeezing for all she was worth. 
All those hours on the Stairmaster back home were paying off -- Edward was
now caught in a vise from which there was no escape.  Chris could hear the
breath wheezing from his lungs as she compressed them.
	"I'll break every rib you've got.  I swear to God I will," she
said.
	Edward's eyes began to bulge, and he could not speak, but his face
was defiant, and he again began to grope at Chris's exposed bosom.
	Chris gritted her teeth and squeezed harder.  A muffled popping
noise soon followed.  Edward threw his head back and tried to yell, but
only a weak gurgle escaped his gaping mouth.  He went limp, and Chris
threw him off of her.  She fell out of the cab, picked herself up and ran
off down the road, leaving Edward writhing in the back seat, the
imperative to breathe causing him agony.
	Chris ran for several minutes until she'd rounded a curve in the
road and the cab was well out of sight.  Even though Edward was in no
shape to pursue her, she knew that she couldn't stay on the road,
especially half-naked and covered with someone else's blood.  Dawn was
just beginning to break and she could begin to make out her surroundings a
bit better.  A few meters ahead was a clear though not very well-used
trail that led off into lush tropical growth.  Taking a chance that the
trail would lead to shelter, she trotted off down it.
	After a few hundred meters she slowed her pace.  The long, crazy
night was beginning to take its toll.  Chris realized that she was
absolutely exhausted.  Her unsupported breasts, which were already full
again (when would that galactogogue wear off?), were causing her pain from
all the jostling they'd taken during her run.  Her face and hair, already
caked with dried blood, were streaked with sweat.  She fought back tears
as fatigue, hunger, and the realization that she was totally lost on an
island a thousand miles from home overtook her.
	Somewhere in her growing despair a calm inner voice welled up,
telling her to just keep walking, at a pace she could handle.  The path
had to lead somewhere.  There was bound to be something to eat in this
botanical treasure trove that surrounded her.  If nothing else, there was
her own milk...
	That thought made Chris realize how incredibly thirsty she was. 
She sat down next to the path, bent her head, and tried to bring one of
her nipples to her mouth.  But she was too engorged; her breasts were so
hard that she couldn't easily push them up to her lips.  Her neck started
to get sore as she strained to latch onto herself.  I should be able to do
this, she thought frantically.  I used to suck myself in the shower all
the time.  She growled in frustration, but then remembered that all she
had to do was express enough milk to relieve the hardness in her breasts. 
She leaned back against a rock and began to milk herself.  The sprays
hitting the broad leaves of the plants around her made it sound like it
was starting to rain.  Even with all that had just happened to her, Chris
was still able to experience the extreme pleasure that milking always had
provided her.  It lifted her spirits.  Her tits soon softened enough for
her to be able to suckle herself, which she did, deeply.  There was enough
milk in both breasts to quiet the noise in her stomach and the thirst in
her throat.  She even almost reached orgasm as her lips tugged at her
nipples, drawing out the much needed nourishment.
	Rested and satiated, Chris's predicament began to look less
hopeless to her.  The morning had brightened into a spectacular day.  The
jungle around her was green and beautiful.  Brightly colored birds were
beginning to appear in the trees, scolding Chris for invading their
privacy.  And what was that sound in the distance?  Running water?  God, I
hope so, Chris thought, looking down at her glistening nipples, still
stretched to inch-long pegs from the suction.  I could really use a
bath...
	She moved off down the path at a renewed clip, following the
increase in volume of the sound of the water.  A few minutes later the
path abruptly ended at a dense stand of palm trees.  The water was roaring
now -- it had to be just on the other side.  Chris picked her way through
the palm grove, stumbling repeatedly in her haste to break through.
	When she did, she stopped short, brought up by the sheer spectacle
of the scene before her.  She had entered a large clearing, almost
perfectly circular in shape.  It was dominated by a large pool, one end of
which was bounded by a mossy stone outcropping about twenty feet tall over
which a small waterfall plunged.  A rushing stream exited the other end of
the pool.  Large, smooth boulders, carved into a myriad of shapes by the
water, popped up here and there from the edges of the pool.  There were
huge flowers of unimagined intensity of color dotting the shore, and set
back near the edge of the jungle were what looked like several banana
trees.  The morning sunlight had turned the surface of the water into
liquid silver.  To Chris's abused, exhausted self this was the Garden of
Eden.
	Almost without thinking Chris ran to the edge of the pool,
stripped off her ruined slacks, and scampered out into the water,
squealing with the coldness of it.  Her already large nipples became dual
cylinders of solid garnet in response.  Fortunately, at no point in the
pool was the water deeper than about chest level.  Chris waded toward the
waterfall.  She stood beneath the crystalline cascade, feeling the
depravity and unpleasantness of the previous night's conclusion slide off
of her and be replaced with a clean, strong feeling of pure delight.  She
sighed deeply.
	The water was quite cold, so Chris moved to the shore as soon as
she was clean.  She found a large flat boulder which the sun had already
warmed to a pleasant temperature.  She stretched out on it, reveling in
the sheer primal nature of this place.  Her nakedness made her feel like
Eve before the apple, a creature unencumbered by shame or modesty, at one
with her surroundings.  She was totally unconcerned that she was still
lost, her immediate future still far from certain.
	Chris had forgotten how quickly it can get hot in Jamaica.  The
climbing sun began to turn the air steamy and the boulder she was lying on
uncomfortably hot.  She looked for refuge and saw another large smooth
rock nestled nicely in a hollow behind the waterfall.  She walked around
to the rock outcropping from which the waterfall sprang and found an easy
entrance into the hollow.  The temperature under there was warm enough for
her to feel comfortable nude, but not so warm as to be oppressive.  The
water falling in front of her formed a jeweled curtain, and the roar of it
was a soothing sound, like white noise.  The rock upon which she sat had
been sculpted and polished by the water into a series of curves which
seemed to mold themselves to her body.  The rock almost felt like it was
radiating its own heat, as if it were alive.  Chris found herself moving
against it, rubbing herself against the bumps and ridges which almost
seemed to flow under her pressure.   She lay on her stomach, her face just
inches from the water, her breasts cupped by depressions in the stone, a
curved ridge of rock pressed up between her legs, against her pubic bone. 
She began to undulate against this ridge, feeling her naked mons rubbing
along it, her hardening clit unfolding from its hood, her labia parting. 
The sides of the rock began to become stained as her nether nectar began
to flow down them.  Likewise the depressions cupping her breasts began to
overflow with milk as Chris gave herself up to the ecstasy of it.  This
was masturbation on the most basal level, being fucked by Mother Earth
herself.  She needed this release, to purge herself once and for all from
the memory of her recent experience.  Chris writhed on the boulder, moving
her hips against the ridge, wishing the rock would sprout a stone dildo
that she could impale herself on.  She came once, twice, thrice, four
times, seconds apart, squirting wildly, barely able to maintain contact
with the rock as she shook with the force of her orgasms.  Milk and nectar
spewed across the surface of the stone, which was so smooth that it became
slick.  It was only when Chris actually slipped off that she was jolted
out of her activity.
	She sat on the ground next to the rock, absently twirling her
finger in a puddle of breast milk that lay in a depression on its surface.
 "My God, that was amazing," she said aloud.  "I've had lovers that were
like rocks in bed, but who'd've thought I'd ever find a rock that was like
a lover?"  She stood up and surveyed her glorious body -- it was dotted
with white droplets; her thighs were slick with love honey; and her
nipples were still oozing.  She decided to jump back under the waterfall
to rinse herself off.  She used her hands to divert some of the flow onto
the rock to wash it off as well.  She stepped back out of the curtain of
water, closed her eyes, and leaned back to squeeze the water out of her
hair.  She straightened up, opened her eyes, and screamed.
	Someone was standing in the entrance to the hollow.

<<to be continued>>