Atlantea Ch. 05

"Now you tease me, cruel man," Calista whined.

"My deepest apologies, my lady," I said, moving my hands back to her now swollen nipples.

I continued to rub and pull on her engorged flesh, in a manner akin to hand-expressing milk. Then, unable to contain myself, I lay her down on the bed and began to kiss and lick her breasts all over, while keeping up the milking motion with my hands. Her moaning became louder and began to take on an involuntary quality, and my heart soared as I realized she might lose control from this foreplay alone. Sure enough, a minute later her back arched, and she yelled out a few words in a language I could not understand. One of the words sounded like "mayer" and the other like "choplon", and the rest I could not make out at all.

The wonder of her reaction to this relatively minor form of foreplay drove me wild with passion, and, frankly, I lost control. I began to suck on her nipples, first one and then the other, as if I were breastfeeding. I took each nipple in my mouth and levered it up from the bottom with my tongue, suctioning at the same time as if to withdraw milk from her breast. Then, some rational part of my brain kicked in, remembering just how much this occasional behavior of mine disgusted my ex-girlfriends, and withdrew contact.

"I'm sorry!" I said automatically.

Calista looked surprised and disappointed.

"Sorry for what?" she said.

"I have this bad habit of sucking, uh, like that when I get excited," I said, "I try not to, but sometimes I lose control."

"I do not understand the problem. What is wrong with that manner of sucking?"

"Well, it's like I'm trying to nurse or something. It completely grossed-out Meg for example."

"It does not 'gross out' me," Calista said. "It is normal, where I come from. Is it not normal here?"

"Not at all."

"Then why do you do it?" she said, now sitting up with curiosity.

Although disappointed that our love-making was being put on hold, it seemed like an important conversation to get out of the way early in our relationship. I explained that my mom had been obsessed with breastfeeding, ascribing a number of incredible health benefits to the practice, which I outlined to Calista.

"Your mother was correct," Calista interjected, "we have research confirming her beliefs, and more, in my home country."

I went on to explain that my mom had also read that, in many parts of the world, it was common to nurse children until age five. This she did with my four older siblings. However, when I turned one year's old, she began to encounter difficulties, ones that even a lactation consultant was unable to resolve. Worried that I would not get all the same benefits my sisters had, she recruited one of my aunts on my dad's side, who lived on the same block as us, and an older cousin of mine, who lived in the same neighborhood, to breastfeed me over the next four years. Both women had given birth recently, and, typically for my family, were producing more than enough milk.

"My mom feels that breast milk is more nutritious than any other kind of food, so she made sure I always filled up on that first before meals. I think it kind of messed me up."

"How did it 'mess you up'?" Calista asked, sounding annoyed now.

"Well, I am, like, obsessed with breasts, even for a guy, and when I don't watch myself during sex, I start to suck on my partner's nipples like I'm breastfeeding, which has always gotten me in deep trouble."

"Well, of course, if someone does not like something, you are obligated to stop. And everyone likes what they like, and dislikes what they dislike. However, I do not think there is anything wrong with your behavior, as long as you do not persist with someone who tells you not to."

"So," I said, my heart soaring again, "you don't mind?"

"More than that, I was enjoying the sensation to a significant degree. I wish only that my breasts could produce the milk you so obviously want, when you do that," she said.

My heart started hammering in my chest at what she seemed to be suggesting, and I blurted out, "There is one way to fix that."

I immediately regretted making such a rash statement. We had not even had sex once, and I was implying I could get her pregnant! Calista did not seem at all disturbed by this, however, and answered with a straight, sad face.

"I am afraid that is not a possibility."

"Oh," I said, dejected, believing she meant she had somehow changed her mind about having "vaginal intercourse" after all.

"I think you might misunderstand," she said, reading me accurately, "I mean it is physically impossible for me. I have tried many times to conceive a child, and finally consulted with doctors, who confirmed that my conditions prevent any realistic change of pregnancy."

I felt terrible for her at this moment, and gave her a big hug.

"I actually have two problems," she explained, "one is known here as 'lazy ovary syndrome'; I have a mild case, but it makes my cycles unpredictable. The other problem is that I have an extremely rare genetic condition where my sweat includes a substance toxic to sperm. Since the same substance coats my vaginal canal and cervix, it greatly reduces the chance of conception, and, combined with the other factor, effectively renders me unable to conceive."

"Couldn't you do, I don't know, artificial insemination or something?"

"It is extremely uncommon, in my country," she said, sadly, "and for me in particular, for reasons I cannot easily explain, it would be, shall we say, unacceptable."

Calista started to cry, and I pressed her naked torso to me, stroking her hair gently. I lost track of time, and when her crying had turned to soft sniffles, and then her sniffles went away too, we disengaged.

"I am sorry," she said, "I am, as you would say here, a mess, at the present moment."

"You are not a mess," I said, "life is just hard, sometimes, and there is not always an easy way to handle it."

We hugged for a little while longer, then our stomachs began to growl.

"Would you like some lunch?" she said, her voice a little brighter.

* * *

Calista prepared a lunch of falafel and salad. I sat at the kitchen table, staring at her boobs. She had not put her shirt back on, and when she noticed I kept trying to avert my gaze, she chided me.

"I left my shirt off for a reason, Jason, I want you to look," she said.

"You look like a radiant sun goddess," I said, then added, "I know it's cheesy."

"It is cheesy, yes," she said. "Do not, how do you say it here? Do not your job during the day to become a poet."

Once we were eating, a new cloud seemed to pass over Calista's face, like some dose of reality had just intruded on her otherwise pleasant thoughts.

"Jason," she said, "I have... a delicate question. Would you please excuse me for a second?"

I nodded, and she went to her bedroom to fetch something. She came back with what looked like a hollowed-out, bumpy red rubber sex toy of some sort. There was a hole on one end. I had a suspicion of what it might be used for, and there was no way it would fit me, given my dimensions.

"Um," she said awkwardly, "I have found this to be, well, a difficult subject to broach with males. I, well, to put it in plain terms, I have a large vagina. In my home country, where we are much more aware of these things, it above the 99th percentile in terms of length, width and malleability. While I have diligently developed my vaginal musculature, many males... why are you smiling, Jason? Are you teasing at me?"

The more she went on, the more I fell in love with her. For reasons I don't claim to understand, the uniquely clinical manner in which she was talking about her vagina turned me on in a massive way. Also, it sounded like her pussy was a perfect match for my penis. Perhaps it was wrong of me, but I could not help teasing her just a little by letting the conversation drag on, knowing there would be a happy ending.

"Sorry, it's just, are you suggesting I wear that? I don't think it would fit." I asked, pointing at the rubber sleeve.

"Why would I have it if it did not fit?" Calista asked, quizzically. "Did I not just explain the size of my vaginal canal?"

As I had hoped, she had misinterpreted whose sex organ I was referring to.

"No, sorry, I meant it wouldn't fit on me."

"Oh," she said, suddenly crestfallen.

Again, as I'd hoped, she now thought I had some kind of micro-penis that would not hold up the toy.

"Well," she said morosely, "there are other options, I suppose. Perhaps you could use your hand? I realize that it is not the same..."

"Calista," I said, "Just stop worrying about what percentile your vagina is, and take off my pants."

We both stood up. Calista walked over, and I could see a battle play out across her face. She was trying to decide whether to be annoyed or not, and also whether the size of my member would live up to the expectation I had just set. She knelt down, unzipped my pants, and pulled down. My rock hard dick had gotten stuck down my pant leg, so when she freed it, it popped up and hit her under the chin. She said something in her own language again, I believe it was the same phrase as before, involving "mayer" and "choplon". She slapped me lightly on the butt, without real conviction.

"You, Jason, are a very, very bad male. But, fortunately for you, your penis is truly beautiful, so I will forgive the bad male this one time."

"Maybe my 99th percentile penis belongs inside your 99th percentile vagina," I said, unable to restrain myself.

"Now I know you are jesting," she said, "but you are not wrong."

Despite this comment, she spent a few minutes simply stroking my penis with her hands and fingers, and occasionally kissing it lightly on the head. Then, she stood up without letting go. Much as Ruby had done at her apartment, Calista led me to her bedroom by my member. She pushed me onto the bed, and then continued to stroke my cock until I was almost ready to cum. Sensing this, she stopped and lay down next to me. We made out for a while, and her hand snaked down and began to stroke me again.

Next she got up, walked to the side of the bed where I could see clearly, put her glasses on the nightstand, took off her shoes, and worked her tight skirt over her wide hips, which flared out beautifully, a touch wider than her shoulders. The image of how she would look pregnant flashed through my mind.

"Can I taste you?" I asked.

She shook her head impatiently, and, instead, climbed on top of me. After briefly rubbing the head of my cock with the lips of her vagina, I slipped inside.

"That is not something I have felt before," she purred.

Soon my entire shaft had buried inside her, our pelvic bones slapping together, and the head of my cock was stopping just as it began to push on her cervix. Only Rosalind had been able to take me inside her anywhere close to this easily. Calista's vagina was markedly more open, however, and stretched to fit the length of my member without needing as much stimulation. Jane, one of the lesbians I had impregnated, had been wider, but also much shallower than either Rosalind or Calista.

"I can feel you right here," Calista said, momentarily stopping so that she could point to a spot on her stomach.

It was the right thing to say, as a rush of blood filled my member.

"Ooh, that was wonderful!" she exclaimed. "Let me return the favor!"

It seemed, all of a sudden, as if a hand had gripped my cock and squeezed with all its might. I had thought Ruby was a master of this sort of contraction, but Calista's vaginal muscles were far more powerful and better controlled. She began, impossibly, to clench and release in a rolling wave, which felt like it started near the tip of my dick and traveled towards the base.

"How... can you... do that?" I croaked out between moans.

"I," she panted, "train a lot. I was... undefeated for many," she gasped out, "years."

"Undefeated?" I gasped, too curious to stop talking despite the waves of pleasure, "At... what?"

"Pubococcygeus... strength trials," she said, eventually, between athletic hip thrusts.

"Is that... like Kegels?"

"I... don't... know. Please stop... asking... questions."

This seemed like great advice, and I began to thrust upwards with my hips, matching the rhythm of her body. Her vagina stopped contracting, as she needed to give it some rest. She was sweating noticeably already, even after this short time, and I saw a droplet forming on the end of and enormous conical nipple. I licked it off with the tip of my tongue, and was rewarded by a loud moan that was accompanied by a powerful squeeze from her pussy.

"Ooh!" we said, simultaneously.

Encouraged, I began to suck more vigorously, savoring the sweet taste of her moist flesh. It seemed like she was one of those people who sweat a lot, so while she was impaling her midsection on my cock, I resolved to try and lick all the bodily moisture off of her chest. I started with her left breast, then moved onto the right. She thrust her chest forward to make it easier for me.

At some point, around this time, I began to feel a unique sense of euphoria that I had never felt before during sex, even at its very best. Although I have no personal experience with hard drugs, I believe this experience that I had is what the best part of a pharmacologic high feels like. The room was spinning slowly, the light from the side table making a smear across my vision, and it seemed like Calista and I were melded together at the hips. Without realizing it, I began to suckle at her right nipple, which looked painfully swollen, in precisely the manner that my ex-girlfriends had disliked so much, while rubbing and pulling on the left with my fingers.

Calista's entire lower body began to shake uncontrollably, and I felt wetness flood out of her, onto my midsection. She pushed down hard with her hips, pushing the tip of my penis firmly onto her cervix, then lay her torso down on my chest, her firm breast preventing her from resting her head.

"Did you ejaculate yet? I did not feel anything." she said, giving my cock a squeeze.

"Not yet."

"Good," she said.

She let me flip her over onto her back, and I began to thrust. At one point I wanted to pull out all the way, so I could experience the sensation of my cock's head going back in through her open lips. As the tip of my cock neared the opening of her canal, she made a whining noise.

"No," she said, "Stay inside."

I might have accidentally pulled out anyway, but she clenched tightly, trapping me a few inches deep. She relaxed as I pushed forward again.

"I need that... exquisite... fullness," she explained between labored breaths.

After a few more deep thrusts, it was my turn to come, the head of my penis buried so deep inside her, I imagined it was forcing open her cervix and shooting semen directly into her womb. She held my buttocks firmly, so that I could not easily pull out at all, even after my cock stopped pulsing. We kissed, eyes locked together, but it was awkward due to the space created by her firm chest. Instead, I began to kiss nipples and lick the copious sweat from her boobs.

"Your sweat tastes... sweet to me," I said, then began to suck her nipples vigorously.

Some time later, her body began to shake, and her pussy bore down strongly, so much that it almost hurt me. She was having another intense orgasm, entirely, it would seem, from nipple stimulation. My flaccid cock, which does not shrink much when soft, was still embedded deeply inside her. She had not let me pull out even slightly. After she recovered from her orgasm, I felt the rolling, squeezing sensation she was somehow able to create within her vaginal canal. I still was unsure how that was even anatomically possible. This coaxed my dick back to life, and I began making small thrusting motions despite her still firm grip on my ass.

"Jason," she said, "I... really love that. Can you pull your penis out... very, very slowly... and stop when I tell you?"

I did as she asked. When about three inches of cock was still inside her, her vagina clamped down.

"Stop there," she said, then had to pause to catch her breath. "Please do not withdraw your penis... any farther than that. And then push... hard... very hard... when you thrust forward."

Holding myself above her with, now, minimal body contact, I began to rhythmically thrust, putting all the strength I had in my hips into each down stroke. She moaned each time my dick impaled her cervix, and, after a while, used a martial arts move to flip us around. She was on top of me again. Being by far the most athletic woman I had ever had sex with, she displayed amazing control of her hips, able to slide up and down my shaft with no upper body motion. For a while I stopped thrusting and looked deeply into her eyes.

I honestly do not know how long she rode me, staring into those gray orbs was almost more intense than the sex itself. She was sweating copiously, far more than any past partner I could remember, with large drops now falling from her engorged nipples onto my chest. Finally, she impaled herself fully on my dick and clamped down as hard as she could. As her thighs began to twitch, in the telltale sign of an orgasm, I also came. The entire time our eyes remained locked, and I had the sensation, no doubt just in my imagination, yet perfectly real-seeming at the time, of experiencing her climax along with my own.

Exhausted, she lay down on my chest, pushing her sweat-drenched breasts into me. As before, she was frustrated by the distance the put between us; she was not able to rest her head on my shoulder. After a while, I noticed that she had wrapped her legs around mine and that I was unable to move very far, especially since she was putting all her weight on me. It was the most wonderful sensation, and I could have stayed that way forever. But my bladder had other ideas. I tried to pivot my hips back slightly.

"No," she whined, her eyes still locked on mine. "Do not tease me."

"I'm sorry, Calista, it's just I need to pee pretty badly."

Her brow wrinkled in thought.

"Take me with you," she said.

"What, you mean to the bathroom?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "You only have to urinate, correct?"

"That's right. But, uh, how do you want me to take you exactly if I can't get up?"

"Carry me," she said, "you are a strong male."

She allowed me to sit up, never breaking our intense mutual gaze. As I pivoted my torso upwards, she switched her legs from wrapping around my legs to wrapping around my waist. She put her arms around the back of my neck. With some difficulty, I was able to scoot off the bed and stand up. Being only a shade shorter than me, and therefore relatively heavy, the flexible Calista made my job easier by applying pressure with her legs on the top of my buttocks. In this manner, I was able to carry her to the master bathroom that, as in the Twins' condo, adjoined the bedroom.

"Now what?" I said, standing over the toilet.

Rather than answer, she made a frustrated, whining noise and leveraged her vagina off of my dick. Ignoring the semen streaming down her inner thigh, she let herself down to a standing position, took my slimy cock in one hand, and finally sat on the toilet.

"Once you declared your need to urinate," she said, still holding on to my member, "I also felt the same urge."

She let loose a torrent of clear, odorless fluid, intermingled with a few thick, whitish blobs. My cock pulsed in her hand, but did not get hard. Once finished, she wiped, stood up, and then stood behind me, pressing her boobs into my back.

"May I?" she said, peeking around my shoulder and putting her other hand on my shaft.

"Sure!"

I began to pee, and Calista giggled as she controlled the aim, hitting various parts of the rim with the clear liquid.