A Tiny Decision

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 agesture 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.