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FORTISSI breasts far more carefully than


"Fortissimo" {Pendragon} (MF cons lact)
by Uther Pendragon

IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to
read electronically transmitted erotic material, please go do
something else.

This material is Copyright, 1997, Uther Pendragon. All
rights reserved. I specifically grant the right of downloading
and keeping ONE electronic copy for your personal reading so long
as this notice is included. Reposting requires previous

All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as
public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination
and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly

# # # #
by Uther Pendragon

When I broke the kiss to breathe, Bob kissed a line down my
shoulder and my arm. He skipped from there to my stomach. I
couldn't blame him for ignoring the breasts that he used to
adore. They leaked now, and were sticky from the newest
Brennan's spit. He certainly paid enough attention to my thighs,
however. I was panting and writhing in desire by the time he
reached their juncture.

"Are you glad to have all of me back?" I asked. First, my
uterus had been displaced enough by the pregnancy to make vaginal
intercourse painful. We took expedients to get around that, but
what had been fun as foreplay and variations became a drag as

Then, while I was still in the hospital after the delivery,
I had "minor surgery" to correct that. If that was minor, I hope
to never experience "major surgery." What with one pain and
another, I didn't even want hugs for a few days.

Now, however, my desire was back full force. Bob's had
never abated. Even Dr. Gupta had given her permission. Not that
we had waited for it.

Bob gave me a prolonged kiss before answering, "Not quite
all." I was astonished that anything distracted him in that
position. "The Kitten has displaced her daddy from his favorite

"And now I'm all messy. I'm sorry."

"Jeanette," he said, "messy doesn't have a thing to do with

"I've seen you look away in disgust."

"The only disgust is with myself. I'm jealous. Of a little
baby. Of my own daughter. Your nipples hurt sometimes; I know
they do. But you nurse her because it is best for her." Well,
that is certainly one reason. "And all I can think about is how
much I'd like to be in her place."

"Really?" Bob didn't think of me as a mess?


"Come here." Bob didn't have to be asked twice. He began
licking all over one breast, the one that Baby Catherine had used
last. He was really gentle when he reached the nipple. That
tickled me, but it also excited me. His hand cupped my groin.
The conversation had brought me down from my excitement, but
Bob's expression of desire added fuel to the physical sensations.
His hand kindled a fire in my loins.

His lips grew more insistent on my breast. I could feel the
milk begin to flow. "Oh," said Bob. "So sweet!" He licked once
before returning to suck. I could feel my tension building.

I don't think either of us would have noticed a brass band
just then. A pianissimo "wah," however, froze us. We each held
our breath hoping she would go back to sleep. "Wah," forte, got
Bob clambering off the bed and started my breasts flowing. A
fortissimo "WAAAH!" rattled the windows before Bob managed to
muffle Catherine with a pacifier. We'd put her in the living
room closer to the apartment's one air conditioner.

"Yes, Kitten. You'll be fed. But you'll be much more
comfortable dry. Off comes one diaper. Ugh!" Bob talked the
whole time until he brought her in to me. She managed to lose
the pacifier on the way and was starting to cry again before she
got the real thing. Bob left us to put the diaper into the
bucket and to find the lost pacifier.

Her father's daughter, The Kitten cheered right up as soon
as she could suck on a nipple. She was contentedly half asleep
before Bob got back. (When we had broached the idea of naming
the baby after Bob's mother Katherine, Bob's sister had
reservations. "Don't ever call her 'Kate,'" Kathleen had
written. We had settled on "Catherine" for a name and "Cat" for
a nickname. But cat had been so tiny that she became "The

"She seems happy enough, now," Bob commented. As he stood
there watching us, his erection began to recover.

"I was just thinking that she is her father's daughter."

"Now, love, I don't really scream until somebody comes and
brings me clean clothes or food."

"No. But let her suck on a nipple, and she is happy."

"Yeah. But *I* don't scream because *she* gets to suckle."
He was smiling though. "I brought some wash cloths, we'd better
clean off my germs. Should you do it or should I?"

"I should. Luckily," I said as I began wiping, "you kept to
the one she used last."

"Luck had nothing to do with it my dear. The other one was
slightly fuller." I can feel a difference, but not see one.
But, then, Bob looks at my breasts far more carefully than I do.

"Go ahead, Kitten," he continued. "Daddy will get his turn.
In fact, do you think that you'd let mommy turn on her side?"
This was easier said than done. While I have often nursed The
Kitten while lying on my side, turning is another matter. Her
daddy lent us each a hand, and we managed. Totally
unappreciative of the help, she clamped on as if we were fighting
to tear her away from her nourishment.

Bob nibbled on my ear until I shivered in the heat. When he
kissed my neck and down my back, I knew what he intended. I
spread my legs to admit his hand. He stroked and tickled and
rubbed there until I spoke. "Please Bob. Now."

There was a pause for the Trojan. Though I could barely
move to help him, he found the right spot and slipped in. Slowly
I was filled. "Yesss," Bob said.

"Yesss," I agreed. And it was very much "yes" as we lay
like that. Bob was warmly pressed against my seat and petting my
side and breathing on the back of my neck. The Kitten was lying
on my arm and warming my stomach and sucking on my breast.

"In the forest," Bob said, evoking his favorite memory of
our honeymoon, "I loved you so much. I wanted you so much. I
was so pleased with you, and your response to me, that I wondered
if I could survive all that emotion. I never believed that the
love, and longing, and satisfaction could be maintained back in
the real world. Instead, they have doubled."

He kissed the special spot on the back of my neck that
always sends shivers through me, and The Kitten sucked hard at
the precisely same instant.

I often find nursing somewhat arousing. (Dr. Gupta says
that this is entirely natural.) Never before, however, had it
felt like this. Bob's earlier elaborate teasings had lifted me
to a sensuous plateau. The Kitten's gluttonous attack held me at
a level where I tingled in every place that Bob touched me.

Then Bob began to move.

Bound in place by the baby in my arms more effectively than
by bands of steel, I couldn't move in response. I could only lie
there and receive all those delicious sensations. Slowly, Bob
stroked within me, filling me and rubbing every inch. He paused
and kissed my neck before withdrawing at the same maddeningly,
arousingly, slow pace. For a while I wanted more, I wanted him
driving within me harder, faster.

Then the voluptuous slowness became a pleasure in itself.
Each slow sleek slide outwards added to my satisfaction; each
friendly frictional filling brought its own fulfillment.
Catherine had nearly filled her belly and was only playing with
me now. I shivered each time Bob kissed my spine or neck. I was
sure that I wouldn't soar to a climax but hadn't any regrets;
instead of soaring to a peak, I floated on a cloud of love.

Then the climax ambushed me. I stiffened at one instant and
throbbed at the next. All the pleasure that I had absorbed in
the previous minutes came flooding back tenfold, rushing through
me shaking me.

When I was next aware of the outer world, Bob was gripping
my hipbone to pull me against his writhing body. He throbbed and
pulsed within me while he grunted almost in my ear.

About the time he collapsed behind me, The Kitten decided
that she didn't like this disturbance. She let go, lay back
against my arm, and pulled her favorite trick. I've heard of
crying oneself to sleep; but others usually take a while. The
Kitten lets out two hearty cries. Then she drops off in the
*middle* of the third. Every time, I'm afraid that the cut-off
heralds serious injury. Once again, however, a hand on her belly
found it rising and falling in silent sleep.

I was drenched in sweat, and the bodies on each side of me
should have felt oppressive in the August heat. I felt totally
loved and needed instead. Bob caught his breath and then pulled
the condom out of me and all the way onto him. All the mess is
contained this way, but I'd rather feel his spurting and clean it
up afterward.

"I only wish," Bob said, "that there was something I could
do for you to express the way I feel for you now."

"There was," I told him. "You did."

He nuzzled my back for a while. "I'd better put her back in
her own bed," he said. "I'll get a spit-cloth." Despite my
adoration for Bob the previous moment, I giggled at his
appearance when he returned. He wore absolutely nothing but a
diaper over his shoulder and the condom. The Kitten looked
minuscule in her father's hands. I can't get over it, she looked
so huge in my belly.

Bob put her against his shoulder. "Christopher Robin goes
hoppity, hoppity," he began, one pat to each beat. Despite it's
being such an active poem, she seemed to go to sleep.

For that matter, I dropped off too. I had to catch my sleep
while she slept. I felt exhausted; but I also felt sated, and
very, very, loved.

The End
Uther Pendragon
This is one of a series of stories about the Brennans.

The next story in the series is:
forays.txt "Forays"

The first story in the series is:
forever.txt "Forever"

If you enjoyed this story, you might also like:
doesnt.txt "He Doesn't Love Her Like I Do."

The directory to the entire Brennan series is:

The directory to all my stories can be found at:


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