Thier first date was a very public affair, she picked him up at the
nasty mens hotel he resided at. It was the sort of dive that inspired
fear, fear of who he really was, what his real interest were. This
was a dangerous man and he lived on the wild side. He wore a black
leather jacket. His black hair was combed over his face, very grungy
and slightly gothic
looking.She was wearing a beige silk knitted skirt,
it was soft on her skin and clung to her body like a second skin,
with the side split showing her shapely legs. It covered a navy blue
satin and lace pair of panties. Her shirt was a fine black silk shirt,
severe, but if anything it made her look softer, more feminine. Her
matching bra was almost visible if you looked down her cleavage. She
wore a bellydancing scarf with coins as a belt and it rang softly
as she walked in her black strappy high heels.Her makeup was subdued,
lips slightly enhanced with burnt sugar, eyes dark with khol and softly
smudged dark plum eyeshaddow. Her long dark lashes framed her bright
green eyes. her cheekbones highlighted with a slight hint of bronzer,
that only made her skin paler. There was an instant connection. The
Rommany call it the eyes of Ibinaz, where one is hit with instant
attraction. They were at a nightclub, a rather unusual alternate underground
nightclub in the innercity but not the fashionable part. He walked
over and put his arm around her. He pulled her close and they danced.
Slowly, sensously. His hand slid down her skirt, he carressed her
back and moved down and ran his hands down over the cheeks of her
arse to her leg. She moved in closer, her body fitting exactly into
his, she raised her leg slightly against his leg, giving him access
to her openings. His hands slid down the front of her leg and explored
her slit, eagerly probing her moist lips, which were slightly apart,
such was her attraction to him, even though they had only just met.
He caressed her clit, feeling it engorge beneath his hand. It was
small and neat, like nearly everything about her except her wild dark
hair which had a life of its own and was dancing in front of his eyes
and moving with every breath he took. His body was up against hers,
his penis visibly throbbing, encased in his tight black jeans. her
hands moved from his back down his cheeks, pulling him into her tightly.
She leant up against a wall, not knowing how she got there, still
swaying to the music, as if in a trance, her eyes locked in his, enthralled.He
kissed her and she moaned, she reached down and undid the buckle of
his jeans, oblivious to the crowded dancefloor and the throngs of
people around them. The music was incredibly loud, too loud to think
clearly, and they both had only one thing on thier minds, a different
kind of music, where only two can dance.She unzipped his pants, and
he ground into her closer than before, she tilted her head back while
he bit at her neck. He lifted her skirt and moved slightly lower so
he could enter her wet opening.The band played on and the people danced,
and they
were locked in each others embrace. The rhythmic jingling of her
belt adding to the music. She raised her other leg and locked them
around his waist as he drove into her, again and again until a roaring
cresendo. Her breast were full, not the fullness of youth but the
fullness of a lactating mother. When she thought of her infant son
or her lover, they swelled painfully as her milk came in, and occasionally
a small amount of the precious fluid leaked out onto her bra. Tonight
he was coming home, be it late in the evening, and her breasts throbbed
at the thought of his touch upon them. His casual slap on the buttocks
and tweak of the nipple as his hands carressed her body. It is amazing
how fundamentally different it was to have an infant suckling, provoking
such beauty, such pain and such happiness, as he greedily rooted around
and suckled through the night. Incredible that even though he was
tiny; he knew how to find them in the darkness of the night. Instinctively
found the source of food and comfort, not with sight but by smell
and by touch. The infant moved her deeply, as small infants do to
a woman. He was totally dependant and reliant upon her body for not
only protection, but nuture and comfort. He was instinctively safe
and warm and loved in her arms, feeding from her bounty. There was
no better place, no greater warmth, no better comfort than the warmth
of her breasts and the sweetness of her milk. She thought of the day
she had told him of her pregnancy, how he had torn the earring out
of her lobe and tasted her blood, saying that now thier blood was
the same, joined together by the life growing within.He had greedily
sucked at her breasts, anticipating the sweetness within, tearing
and biting at thier creamy smoothness. Over the coming months they
swelled with her body. After the birth came the pain as her milk rushed
in to feed the ever hungry mouth, the small parted lips. His tiny
hand lay gently on her breasts, total love and total trust.Her man
enjoyed the fullness of her ripe body. His work hardened hands roughly
carressed and marvelled at this wonderous change in his slender lover.
When he touched her, her breasts visibly swelled and occasionally
a small drop glistened at the tip of the beautiful long brown nipple.
Like his infant son, he drank greedily, making satisfied noises. In
turn her uterus contracted and brought not only pain, but a deep satisfying
pleasure. Beyond all else they were a family.
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