The woman was heavily pregnant, close to term, her belly roundly distended; it would be a big baby. It was a summer morning, warm in her bedroom as she lay naked on the bed, the sheet scrunched up at the bottom. Her husband had left for work an hour earlier, and she had dozed peacefully in the quiet house. Waking, she looked down her body - her ripe breasts standing proud, the skin taut and her areolae dark and enlarged, the nipples prominently erect; her belly blotted out everything below. The baby inside moved, then kicked; she smiled and caressed the spot gently. She felt relaxed and happy.
She reached into her bedside drawer and pulled out a bottle of baby oil, then drizzled some on her belly. She massaged it in with both hands, then drizzled some more on each breast. She let the oil trickle down the curve of her breasts for a moment, then began to caress them very lightly, smoothing the oil around them. They were tender and ached slightly, but she found it pleasurably distracting to have them touched. After several minutes of delicate fondling, she began to cup and squeeze them a little more firmly, gently pinching and pulling at her nipples; she loved to watch her hands as she did this.
She was quite turned on now, could feel the warmth and tension in her vulva and groin. Concentrating, she squeezed both breasts firmly at the base and slid her hands up; her milk oozed from her nipples. She squeezed harder and milk squirted up several inches in thin jets, falling back on her breasts and hands. She giggled and repeated the gesture, ignoring the tenderness as she squeezed and slid hard, sending milk spraying into the air. She pointed her nipples towards her head, and the milk fell back onto her face, some falling on her mouth; she licked her lips, then bent her head down and pulled her left breast up to her mouth. She was easily able to suck her nipple and areola in and suckled hard, relishing the warm flood of milk filling her mouth. She sucked greedily, swallowing the first mouthful, then released her nipple; the milk continued to squirt, spraying her face. Leaving the milk to trickle down her cheeks and nose, she repeated the process with her right breast. She wiped her face and breasts with her hands, massaging the milk into her skin.
By now feeling very horny, she lifted her knees up and reached round her belly with both hands to her vulva. She ran the tips of her index fingers along her labia; they were warm and puffy as she pulled them open. She teased both fingertips around the entrance to her vagina, lubricating them before sliding them inside. She pulled her vagina open, enjoying the stretching, wondering how it could possibly stretch to accommodate a baby's exit, then pulled her fingers out and drew them up alongside her clitoris, squeezing firmly along the firm button, tensing at the tingle of pleasure and drawing the hood back to expose it fully. Holding the hood back with two fingers of her left hand, she delicately caressed the exposed clitoris, so sensitive she couldn't do it directly for long. She let the hood slip back, then began to rub firmly around and over it; it only took a couple of minutes for her orgasm to build and overwhelm her. As she subsided, the baby kicked vigorously; she smiled softly and patted her belly.
'Sorry, little one, but I
needed
that.'
Might need another one in a few minutes, if you don't mind, she thought to herself. The orgasm had been immensely satisfying, but as she had reached her climax she had begun to fantasise and some rather juicy and guilty memories had flashed into her mind.
The housewarming party. Their friends, relatives and new neighbours, a mixed bunch of types and ages: the young couple from across the road, the two young women sharing the house next door (who her husband thought - later confirmed - were an item), their parents, his younger brother and his girlfriend, work colleagues. The booze had flowed freely and the atmosphere had been genial and friendly. They had mingled separately, flirting with varying degrees of intensity and seriousness as required or desired. In the kitchen, bodies pressed around her as she cut more french bread and hands grabbed it from the board. She had been aware of a firm, thinly-covered breast lingering purposefully against her bare upper arm and a hand resting lightly on her other hip. She looked round, it was the American girl from her husband's office. Tall, slim, a white lycra vest and floral miniskirt emphasisng her golden tan and athletic body; rich, wavy chestnut hair and a stunningly pretty face, a waft of Patchoulli.
'Hi. Great party.'
'Hi … Gemma. Glad you're enjoying yourself.'
Gemma was looking directly into her eyes, a naughty smile on her full lips; their heads were very close. She sipped from a glass of white wine. Sue was momentarily mesmerised by the tiny strand of spittle that briefly joined glass and lower lip and then by the delicate swipe of tongue that licked her lips.
'Need any help?'
'Er, no … well, I've got to get some more crisps and things from the garage.'
'Sure. Lead the way.'
Sue squeezed past some others talking animatedly about the latest political gaffe and slipped out the back door, Gemma close behind.
'Stay close, the path's narrow.'
'Sure will.'
Sue felt her hand grabbed from behind and squeezed. Suddenly apprehensive, she had squeezed back and led the way down the path, dimly lit from the kitchen window. She reached the side door of the garage and Gemma bumped into her. As she released her hand to open the garage door, she felt Gemma's hands grasp her gently on the waist. She felt for the lightswitch, clicked it on and stepped inside, pulling Gemma with her. As soon as they were inside, Gemma turned her firmly around and pulled her close; responding to her kiss was instantaneous and instinctive. They stood snogging for several minutes, running their hands over each other's bodies. Gemma's hands were under her slip dress, kneading her naked buttocks, pulling them up and Sue onto her toes so that she could work her fingertips between her labia from underneath. Sue moaned softly against Gemma's mouth as she felt two fingertips probing inside her; her right hand was squeezing and caressing Gemma's left breast. Breathlessly she pulled away, rearranging her G-string.
'Oh Christ, Gemma, we'd better get back.'
