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.
