Atlantea Ch. 13

"Of course!" Daphne said, blushing. She had a pale, round face, with equally round features: a button nose and small mouth with full lips. Her eyes, a brown so dark they effectively looked to be black, matched her hair, a bounty of tightly curled, shiny black locks that tumbled down to shoulder level. Although plain-looking in comparison to Jacintha or Xyra, I felt dizzy in her presence, unable to control my intense attraction to her fertile form.

«Is your mouth dry?» she said.

«I am quite parched,» I replied, automatically reciting the Atlantean phrase, without even thinking about it. Daphne giggled.

"Yes, I know I sound like a hick," I said.

"What's a 'hick'?" Daphne asked. Before I could respond, Jacintha explained in Atlantean, and Daphne laughed some more.

After recovering, she began to disrobe. She was wearing a stretchy, tight black top that clung to her breasts and upper belly. She left on her matching bottoms, exercise pants with very elastic waist, to comfortably support her lower stomach. I felt a pounding in my chest as she revealed her bosoms. Shaped like water droplets, albeit impossibly large ones, they had relatively small, faint nipples, which were oriented downwards, at a slight angle. "I am pondering the geometry of the situation," she said, as her right hand rose to her chin. "Would you mind kneeling next to the chaise lounge? I believe that will most effectively allow you to breastfeed without being impeding by this ridiculous pregnant stomach of mine." She pointed at her midsection. I was not sure what she had planned, but since I had no alternative ideas, I nodded in acquiescence.

She walked over to the chaise lounge, rubbing her left hip along the way. My heart went out to her, as I recalled how much trouble Phoebe had with her hips, and I had to tamp down an urge to offer her a massage right then and there. I also could not help but notice her large, shapely posterior, which was flattered by the sheer black tights. Like my own butt, hers extended especially far from her lower back. She lay down, with her back against the angled end of the lounge, and her firm boobs fell slightly, to either side of her torso. Now it was clear why she wanted me to kneel; her nipples would be right at mouth level. Eagerly, I adopted the position and took her left areola into my mouth.

Creamy milk, with a nutty flavor reminiscent of Jacintha's, soon began to spray into my mouth. Perhaps because of her particular anatomy, or perhaps because she was both pregnant and already nursing from a previous birth, once the let-down happened, fluid flowed into my mouth with more force, and volume, than I thought possible. I sucked as hard as I dared, gulping down the comparatively thick liquid as fast as I possibly could. I became elated as I realized the persistent hunger pangs of the past thirty-odd hours would finally be vanquished. Daphne moaned as milk began to flow through her mammary glands. She started to massage the breast, repeatedly working her way down from the top, using both hands. I was still feeling dizzy, and lost track of time. Fortunately, Jacintha tapped my shoulder after two minutes.

"Jason, don't forget you need to ask before continuing," she reminded me.

I broke of contact with Daphne's nipple. Multiple streams of milk shot from the pores of her nipple, straight into my face. "Sorry, thanks!" I said to Jacintha.

«My river's yet dry, yet I wish to respect your time,» I said.

"That really is an impressive accent, Mr. Walker!" Daphne said. "Although also amusing, as well. Please proceed." I heard a soft rustling sound as she hefted her left boob, a move I could not actually see, as I had to close my eyes to protect them from the sprays of liquid. I latched back on, and she sighed in relief. I soon heard the office door open and close behind me; presumably Jacintha grew bored of watching the two of us.

Some minutes later, my right arm began to fatigue. There was no great place to rest it, and I had tried several positions already without finding a comfortable place. Distractedly, I placed it on the apex of her belly, right over her belly button. Immediately realizing my error, I withdrew my hand rapidly.

"You may rest your hand there, it looks more comfortable for you, and I do not mind. It is a pleasant sensation, in fact," she said. I replaced my hand on the bare skin, and she placed her warm, damp, right hand over mine. My cock, already rock hard, pulsed inside my pants, and it took all my will to resist the urge to explore the delicious curves of her body further.

This additional contact relaxed Daphne further, and I soon learned that she had a loquacious nature. "I am pleased you are not bothered by my pregnant form. Many males have an aversion."

"Mrph!" I vocalized, my mouth still sucking down milk, in an attempt to be supportive. Daphne ignored me, and continued.

"Although I love having babies, I detest being pregnant, Mr. Walker. Does that not sound ridiculous? But it is true. And this pregnancy is worse that the last. They said it would be easier! Do you know that I was supposed to give birth four days ago? It is as if this selfish child inside of me is too comfortable. Meanwhile I cannot sleep, my hips are inflamed, and my breasts are swollen and sore."

"Srphy!" I said, hoping I was not making things worse by nursing. She seemed to get my meaning.

"Oh, please do not worry, in fact this is bringing me a measure of relief. That reminds me! You should most likely switch to my other bosom now? Otherwise they will be imbalanced." With that, she pulled her nipple back, to my great disappointment. My face must have shown my emotional reaction to this interruption; I felt like I might start crying. Daphne, suddenly flooded with concern, brought her hand to my face. "Mr. Walker, are you okay? Did I say something wrong?"

"I am sorry, you're fine. I was just hoping to drink as much as possible. Your milk is creamy and delicious."

Daphne's small, round mouth formed an "O" of surprise. "I simply assumed you would not be able to drink all the milk in my breasts at this moment. I have not nursed all day, and I cannot recall the last time I had the patience to pump my breasts completely, it takes quite some time."

"I guarantee I won't leave a drop of milk left in either breast, if you'll let me."

"A guarantee, you say?" Daphne said, her eyes twinkling, and her cheeks flushing with red. "Now that is a challenge I cannot shy away from! Please proceed." She practically purred as I latched back on, and directed the flow into the roof of my mouth.

As we continued to nurse, I do not know for how long, Daphne resumed her monologue. I learned that she lived with four other women, who, like Xanthia, she referred to as her sisters. I presumed that they were not biological relatives, or at least that not all were. They were all around her age, that is, in their early twenties. Between the five of them, they had six children, with two more, including Daphne's, on the way. She indicated this level of fecundity was unusual. Normally, not all the sisters in a House, as she called it, would have children, especially this early. Their House also included a man. His name was Timon, and was in his sixties. She had trouble describing his relationship to the women of the House, saying that the Atlantean word was awkward to translate into English. She settled, at last, on referring to him as their "husband", but cautioned me that this term was misleading, at best, if I read too much into it.

I do not know how long it took to drain her left breast, all I can say for certain is that it took perceptibly longer than it would have with Phoebe. "Do you need a respite?" Daphne asked, "I could hear you gulping down milk as rapidly as possible, and imagine your stomach may need some time to process that?"

An unpleasant sensation was indeed sweeping over my midsection, but not from having ingested so much liquid, as Daphne feared. Instead, I could tell my body was still running on a calorie deficit. I was experiencing yet another hunger pang. Before responding, though, a thought occurred to me. Both Xanthia, back in the States, and Jacintha, just now, had indicated that their sisters liked to critique the quality of each other's breast milk. In describing her own House, during the long monologue, Daphne gave me the impression that there was a similar vibe. Sincerely enthralled as I was, and grateful to the generous woman, I felt I had to express my delight, in no uncertain terms.

"Daphne," I said, "I'm still hungry, very hungry. I don't want to pressure you in any way, but your breast milk tastes amazing, quite thick and with a nut-like aftertaste. Would you mind if we just kept going?"

A blush suffused most of her torso, and she gestured towards her right breast, temporarily at a loss for words. Before I reached her, however, she asked me to get her a glass of water. There was a pitcher and two glasses on a shelf near the desk, so I fetched the thirsty woman a tall glass. She drained it quickly, so I brought another, and then a third. "Thank you!" she said, at last.

Next, I knelt down on her right side, and began to suckle, drawing down a steady stream of milk within a minute. Daphne placed one hand on the back of my head, and gently wove her fingers through my hair. I laid a hand carefully on her stomach, and her left hand was soon covering mine. Some minutes later, our digits intertwined, lacing our hands together. As with her other breast, I lost track of time. At some point, Jacintha checked in on us, but left after a minute's observation. When I had coaxed the last little bit of milk from Daphne's bosom, I looked into her eyes. She smiled at me, her big lips seeming to reach her eyes. Yet I could not help but notice lines of tension in her face, too. Despite her attempt at levity, she looked like she was about to cry.

"Are you okay?" I asked her. "Did I hurt you?"

"Mother, no!" she said, stroking her hand through my hair. As she fought back tears, she explained, "I just felt another contraction. I'm sure it's another false alarm; I have been to the hospital twice now and each time it turned out I was not going into labor. And they are not going to induce until next week, if it does not happen naturally!"

"I'm sorry, is there anything I can do? I noticed your hip seemed to be bothering you. I would be happy to give you a massage. I had a friend with terrible hip pain during the last months of pregnancy, and I was able to help her; it's actually something I study at university."

Daphne looked at me, biting her lower lip. The redness that had suffused her torso now crept up to her face. "That is a generous offer, Mr. Walker."

"Please, call me Jason," I said.

"Jason," she said. "I have an alternative in mind, which you may be able to help me with."

"Anything!" I said, grateful to her for sharing the bounty of her body with me.

She bit her lip, for a second time, before continuing. "It is somewhat embarrassing," she said, raising a hand to her chest, and taking a deep breath. "Have you heard of the Hydrangean Method?"

"No," I said. "Is that something to do with flowers?"

Daphne laughed briefly, then explained, "I should not expect you to be familiar with it, having been here less than a day. Hydrangea is one of the Atlantean cantons. And there is a famous fable about a Hydrangean woman who induces labor by engaging in, well, coitus."

Once again, my heart skipped a beat as her word choice reminded me of Calista, who refused to use any other term than "coitus" or "vaginal intercourse" to refer to fucking.

"We don't normally say 'coitus' back home, but I think I know what you mean," I said. "I would be willing to help."

"Thank you," she said, but still looked nervous. "I have one more, unfortunately delicate, question to ask you, however." I spread my arms expansively, inviting whatever she had to say. After pausing once more, the nervous young woman continued. "Timon and I have already tried this method, repeatedly. As recently as last night, in point of fact. Yet, although his member is lengthy, my vaginal canal is atypically long, and I believe the method does not work unless the male organ is able to reach my cervix, and place it under sufficient pressure." Daphne bit her lip again and started at me, clearly worried about asking me a potentially uncomfortable question.

"Basically you're asking if I have a long cock?" I asked, unable to keep a grin off of my face.

Daphne looked down, blushing more furiously than before. "Essentially, that is the question, yes."

I paused, for dramatic effect, then said, "Why don't you see for yourself?" With that, I stood up, so that she would be able to tug down my pants, should she choose to. Daphne paused, momentarily indecisive, then inhaled deeply, again, and began to pull down my tight leather pants.

"Mayer hauto choplon!" she exclaimed, as my rigid cock sprang out. I had heard the phrase before, and still wondered what it meant, but it didn't seem like the time to clarify. "What a beautiful organ! I am not sure I trust my eyes," she added.

"Do you think that will work with this Hydrawhatsit method?" I asked, knowing the answer was obvious.

Daphne smiled broadly. "It looks more than adequate for the task, yes. Would you have coitus with me, Jason?"

"I will," I said, then added, "but I have one request. I would like to eat you out first."

"'Eat me out'?" she echoed, eyebrows scrunched together in concern.

"Um, go down on you?"

"I am sorry, I think you are using unfamiliar idioms."

"Cunnilingus?"

"Cunni... lingus", she repeated, then paused. "Oh, you would like to lick my vagina!"

"Yes," I said, turned on by her clinical turn of phrase, which yet again reminded me of Calista.

"Are you sure? I have not been able to take care of my vagina as I normally do. And I suspect at this late stage of pregnancy, my womanly odor may be more prominent than normal."

"That is exactly what I am looking for," I said.

"If you wish, then, it is fine with me. But please hurry, I do not want to remain pregnant for a minute longer than necessary!" She scooted her butt to the edge of the bed and brought her legs together. I hooked fingers on either side of her tights, and carefully pulled down, revealing sheer black panties beneath. I pulled these off as well. Once this maneuver completed, she obligingly spread her legs wide.

Her vagina was being pulled upwards by the steep incline of her stomach, exposing a large, erect clitoris, about the size of tip of her pinkie finger. For whatever reason, the entire region looked swollen. Her prominent labia were surrounded by black stubble. As I brought my mouth closer to her genitals, I was surprised by the lack of any detectable smell. I trailed my fingers along her slit, teasing her for a few minutes. Then I began to lick and suck her lips, which were moist from arousal. As with Alicia and Natasha, the wetness clinging to the folds of her vulva were flavorless, tasting, in effect, like my own saliva. Greedily, I lapped at her unusually large clit, and she moaned with pleasure, grabbing at my head from around the sides of her belly. For the next ten minutes, I continued to stimulate her with my mouth alone. She began to writhe and moan, but as with other women I had been with, did not seem close to orgasm. To hasten the process, I began a perineal massage, using two fingers of my right hand to apply downward pressure, inside of her vaginal canal, in a sweeping motion. Her cries of pleasure grew audible.

"How do you know to do that?" she said, grabbing my hair firmly and painfully.

I didn't say anything, as it wasn't clear she really expected a response. Instead, I attacked her clit with renewed vigor, and within minutes, her pussy began to bulge outward, stretching her perineum. I continued to lick her, throughout her orgasm. "Watch out, I am about to urin--" she warned, but it was too late. My face was splashed with a jet of crystal clear pee. Grinning, I closed my eyes and let the powerful stream wash over me, then returned my mouth to her vagina, to suck out any accumulated fluid there. "I'm sorry!" she said, "You need not!"

"There is nothing I like better," I replied.

"I-- well, okay," she said. "But please, copulate with me soon!"

I sucked on her engorged clitoris a while longer, then relented.

"Are you ready for some coitus?" I said wryly.

"You tease me!" Daphne said. She got up from the chaise lounge. "I believe the most effective position will be canine pose," she said. I would have laughed, except it was yet another of Calista's phrases. Desire flooded through my body, and as Daphne got onto her knees, her elbows resting on the upholstery. "Please push all the way in, it will be important to reach my cer--" she started to say. She stopped talking when she felt the head of my cock push past her inner labia and into her sopping wet vaginal canal.

Her pussy was warm, even hot, and, as she had indicated, especially lengthy and flexible. Still, my massive organ filled her completely, and she moaned with pleasure as it pushed past the moist walls of flesh. The head of my cock made firm contact with her cervix, and she called out in relief, "Thank the Mother!" I grabbed her hips and began to pump furiously. Her vagina was looser than Calista's, but reminded me of my greatest love, nonetheless. My head began to spin as I felt a strong connection to this relative stranger, and it wasn't until she cried out with pleasure, "Keep hitting my cervix!" that I was brought back to reality. "I am sorry!" she gasped, "I cannot hold back my urine right now!" I pulled my cock out, allowing her to more readily relieve her bladder. Clear fluid shot onto the floor in a powerful stream. Daphne's legs were shaking, which I sincerely hoped were the sign of a strong orgasm. That would most likely help hasten the onset of labor. Once the flow slowed to a trickle, I forced my cock back inside of her.

Just then, Jacintha returned to check on us. "Fucking hell, guys, what's going on here?" she said, as Daphne let out a moan. "On second thought," she continued, "I don't want to know." We heard the door open and close again. As she exited, I could hear her muttering to herself, "It's bad for your career to murder your boss, Jacintha. It's bad for your career to murder your boss, Jacintha."

Daphne and I had sex for another half hour. I reveled in the unique feeling of her pregnant vagina, which put pressure on my cock in unusual and pleasurable ways. For her part, she seemed to adore the feeling of a cock that was long enough to reach her uterus, and put pressure on it, to boot. "I have never felt so full," she moaned, as I withdrew my cock for her third orgasm. The carpet beneath us was soaked. "Place it back inside me!" she pleaded.

I was only too happy to obey, and was surprised when she appeared to cum, violently, only a minute later. Her orgasms had been more widely spaced, before, and, this time, was accompanied by intense, clamping pressure on my cock. Sperm shot from my dick, the unexpected and pleasurable sensation breaking my control. "Oh!" she cried, without explanation. It felt like my penis was surrounded by so much fluid, all of a sudden, that I began to wonder just how much cum I had pumped into her. I pulled out, and about three cups of thick, watery liquid, intermixed with white blobs of semen, flowed out behind it.

"Oh yes!" Daphne yelled enthusiastically, "You did it!" She sat upright, and then immediately hunched forward and grabbed her stomach, as her body was wracked with a powerful contraction. I sat next to her and put an arm around her shoulder. "You wonderful male! My water broke!" she exclaimed, once the pains subsided. She threw her arms around me, and kissed me full on the lips. Then she got up and fetched her translucent phone from her purse. She placed a call, and had a brief conversation in Atlantean.