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.