I always felt I couldn’t take my eyes off her whenever she fell anywhere near my line of vision. I don’t know if it was her flowing dark shiny waves of soft hair, her intense dark eyes, or her full sensuous lips. Maybe the generous curves of her body. Her soft arms, large swelling breasts, the ample curve of her hips. I did know that my thoughts always became sexual in her presence, but the reality was all of this was in my mind.
You don’t cross over the barrier of friendship, and she was my best friend’s partner. We went back a long way, back to our childhood, he was like a brother to me. We spent all our time together and women came and went, until her. I knew as soon as I saw her, that was it for him, he fell hard. I knew this because I fell hard too.
But I didn’t spend all my time obsessing over her. I had relationships too, in the years that their relationship bloomed and deepened. I’d meet a woman and we’d have the initial spark and glow and a lot of fun. But somehow these women wouldn’t quite measure up to her. As the weeks went by, especially in bed, I would start to imagine her lips on mine, my hands on her hips, her beautiful large breasts pressed tight against my chest. And somehow this real woman couldn’t compare, so I’d end it. Not a way to live, I know, but what could I do?
The three of us would spend a lot of time together. We shared the same taste in films, music, wine, restaurants. We talked about anything and everything. We knew everything there was to know about each other, nothing was taboo. I thought they’d get sick of me being around but that didn’t seem to happen. We’d go out for dinner somewhere then come back to their place and drink red wine into the small hours and listen to music with most of the lights off. I’d watch her, wine glass in hand, sitting cross-legged on the floor, her hair streaming over her shoulders to her breasts which always drew my gaze. She favoured soft fabrics and bright colours set against black. Low cut and tight tops which accentuated the size and shape of her loveliness. I’ve never been a lover of slim women, and thank god, she didn’t fit the slim category but every part of her was lush and softly curved. I’d watch her in the semi-darkness, the way the curve of her breasts gave way to the soft swell of her stomach and the outline of her thighs through her skirt. I don’t know if he saw me watching her this way. His gaze was probably on her too, who could help themselves with such a presence near? I do know that she knew I watched her, she would see me looking and hold my gaze intensely. Sometimes she would touch a part of her body, maybe gently stroke her own leg, while she knew I watched. Or she would hug herself and lean forward, showing a large expanse of the creamy white satiny skin of her breasts. My mouth would go dry at the sight, imagining those breasts in my hands, in my mouth, the smoothness of her skin against mine.
I spent a lot of time aroused around her and was grateful for the lack of light in the room at those times. I could feel myself stiffen and ache at the sight of her. We would drink and laugh and the two of them would go off to bed, hugging me goodnight. She would always kiss me on the cheek and I’d feel her body press against mine in an agonising sensuous embrace, hoping she wouldn’t feel my erection against her. Though how could she not? I’d hope they’d go straight to sleep, best if they did, the worst times would be when I would lie on the sofa and hear them in their room, her soft moans and his sounds of obvious ecstasy. Of course I couldn’t avoid imagining what was happening, imagining that was me. These times were sweet torture for me, I’d lie there with my erection aching in my hand, stroking myself, imagining her lips on mine and her thighs straddled around me while she stroked my cock for me. She would be naked of course, her beautiful big breasts swinging in my face, my lips being brushed now and then with a tightened nipple. I would come so violently then, wishing, just wishing.
Things changed for them as time went on. He called me one day to tell me she was pregnant. My stomach fell to the floor – this changed everything. He was ecstatic though and so was she, and despite my longing for her and fantasies of what one day could happen between us, I was happy for them. We went out to celebrate. All the clichés about the radiance of pregnant women were confirmed when I saw her. She literally glowed. Her hair was even shinier than usual, her eyes sparkled, her body seemed to already have a new fullness. Both of them were breathless and excited and asked me to be the child’s guardian when it was born. I was overwhelmed to be included in that way and of course said yes. It was such a happy night, I put aside my longing for her and we ate and laughed and danced into the evening. I dropped them home and went back to my own place with a full heart, grateful to have them both in my life.
As her pregnancy progressed things continued well for her. She had no morning sickness and just seemed to bloom and blossom each time I saw her. Her belly swelled and her breasts seemed to be twice as large as before. This was extremely erotic for me, I really found it hard not to stare and to sit still around her. I worked my own hours so I could go to see her, with presents for the baby. She confided in me that he hadn’t been sexually interested in her since she started to grow. She felt he was worried about hurting the baby, not that he was turned off by her. She told me that her sexual desire had elevated since being pregnant, she felt fertile and beautiful, and easily aroused. I tried to stay calm when she said these things, I know she just needed someone to talk to so I swore to myself I wouldn’t try to take advantage of the situation. She asked me if I found her attractive. I answered her honestly and this seemed to make her happy. She told me that his avoidance of her didn’t matter to her for the sake of her self esteem, only that she didn’t want to lose closeness with him and she was craving touch.
Did she know how much I was craving to touch her? I think so. She sat close to me on the sofa and held my hand while she talked about the changes in her body. Waking up in a patch of wetness as colostrum leaked from her breasts. Stretch marks on her stomach, which she showed me. The skin there was stretched and taut and she put my hand there to feel the baby move. This was amazingly intimate and tender. She talked about how dark her nipples had become, how huge her areolae were. She said I should see them, they were as big as pancakes. I said I could see them through her bra, which I could, they were quite clearly outlined. The little bumps around her nipples she called the strawberry patch. I sat there with my erection growing painfully as she chatted on about her body, using a cushion to conceal it from her sight.
We would hug and kiss and part again and I would have to go somewhere to find someone to make love to. I couldn’t scratch this itch though. Nobody I picked up quite satisfied the feelings raging inside me. I wanted her more than anything. I wouldn’t say it was because of the pregnancy but things felt so intimate with her now. I wasn’t even thinking about him in all of this.
Time passed and the baby came, a beautiful boy. Again her body coped well, she had a natural birth at home in a pool of warm water, which I was there for. I saw her fully naked for the first time, the swollen breasts and stomach, her amazing powerful body bringing this child into the world. This experience wasn’t so much erotic but intense and emotional. I felt a deep respect and love for her seeing what she achieved. I held their child soon after he was born and felt more bonded to them than ever.
A few weeks passed though and I thought of her naked body, not giving birth but astride me, those huge breasts gently bouncing while I slid deep inside her. I couldn’t stop these thoughts entering my mind. I knew she was a mother now but the strong erotic feelings I had for her came to the surface, and now of course I had actual visuals etched into my mind, which only fuelled my imagination. I would find any excuse to come and visit them now, which they welcomed. He was home a lot in those early weeks to help her with the baby. We would still eat and talk and drink but at their home. She would abstain from the red wine and fall asleep with the baby lying against her, a picture of absolute beauty from which both he and I would have trouble taking our eyes away. He would then confide in me and tell me how tired they both were, she was awake breastfeeding all through the night. They had the baby in bed with them and he would wake and change him but naturally only she could do the breastfeeding. He confessed that he had avoided going near her breasts because he felt they were the baby’s territory. I was surprised at this as I knew how much he loved her body. I said not to worry about it, and of course I couldn’t imagine not wanting to suckle at those breasts, the sweet milk only heightening the pleasure for me.
He went back to work after time and she called one morning and asked me to come and visit her. I didn’t hesitate of course, got straight in my car and stopped on the way to buy her some flowers, coffee and croissants. She was happy to see me when she answered the door and gave me a warm hug, which lingered into a real embrace. Her mother had taken the child out for a long walk to give her a break, and she felt like some adult company. She put the flowers in water and we sat at her table eating and drinking, but not talking. She seemed tired, not quite herself. I asked her what was wrong. She told me he still wouldn’t touch her. She didn’t necessarily want sex but she needed sexual touch, was really craving it. He would hug her but nothing more intimate than that. She said her breasts were full all the time to the point of leaking and hypersensitive. Now and then her milk would let down and she’d feel the hot-rope sensation of milk drawing from her nipples. She could be in public and it would happen. She’d taken to using breast pads but needed a whole packet to soak it up. Expressing the milk hurt, and it only made too much milk come. She started to cry, said she never thought he would avoid her like this. I told her he’d come around, her loved her but needed time to adjust. She said if he would just touch her breasts, massage them, suck a little milk from them, not enough to make her lactate too much but just a bit, it would make her feel better. I moved close and put my arm around her. I could smell the powdery milky scent of her as she moved in closer to me.
She asked me how I felt about the whole milk thing. Was it a turn off, was it a turn off to see her giving birth also? She was worried that’s why he wouldn’t touch her. I told her no, no. Holding her like that I breathed into her ear that she was the most erotic woman I had ever met. I was taking a risk here but somewhat caught in the moment. She seemed to sigh and nuzzle into me, my mouth at her ear. I stroked her hair, the skin of her face which felt hot. She turned my face around and kissed me softly, whispering thank you, thank you. A whole range of sensations rushed through my body when she kissed me. We had kissed before in a platonic way but there was nothing merely friendly about this kiss. This was urgent, soft but passionate, and highly sensual. I felt her body melt into mine. She took my hand and placed it around the back of her neck. My hair stood on end. I caressed the back of her head, my hands caught in her soft waves and pulled her closer and kissed her more deeply. My hand slid down to caress her shoulder, her arm, and finally to her breast, which was so full that four of my hands couldn’t have covered it. I heard her sigh and push herself closer to me. I couldn’t think about him, wrong as I knew it was, all I could think about was giving her what she needed.
We moved to the sofa. She sat me down and proceeded to sit down in my lap. I buried my face in her milky softness. The smell of her was overwhelming, sweet and pungent, some flashback for me to something very familiar. I undid some of the buttons of her blouse and slid a hand inside, feeling the huge fullness once again of her breast in my hand. The lace of her bra was damp with what I knew was milk leaking from her nipple, which I could feel erect under my palm. I asked if I was hurting her, she said no, it felt wonderful, and could I please massage them. I couldn’t stop myself, she undid the rest of the buttons and pulled her top open. I had never seen anything quite so breathtaking. Her huge full breasts pushed against the tight lace of her nursing bra which by now was soaked with milk. My mouth went dry at the sight of her like this. She kissed me and pressed her breasts full against me. She turned to straddle my lap and with both hands I gently massaged her breasts, being careful not to hurt her. They felt hot and hard and soft all at once and absolutely amazing in my hands. The fullness was quite overwhelming, I revelled in the sensation of it.
She reached down and released the cup of one side of the nursing bra, peeling it down. I was confronted by the incredible sight of her whole breast exposed. Her areola was indeed huge, but in proportion to the size of her breast. Her nipple was dark pink-brown and erect, a pearly drop of milk about to escape from it. She looked down at me and nodded, lifting it with one hand towards my mouth. My tongue came out from my mouth and lapped at this droplet. It was sweet and syrupy and very warm, as warm as her body. I enclosed my lips around her nipple and began to gently suck, never using my teeth. My hand enclosed around her breast and held it firmly while I did this. My other hand continued to massage her other breast which she began to free from the bra.
Meanwhile my erection was raging beneath her. I knew she could feel it and she rocked her hips back and forth over it, even though it was still encased in my now-painful jeans, and she still wore a skirt and presumably underwear. She seemed to be in a world of her own as I moved from one breast to the other, swallowing the sweetness of her milk which had really begun to let down and spurt into my mouth. When I took my mouth off each one it would continue to spurt forth, like water coming from a shower head, the suction so strong that the flow was plentiful. I’m sure I don’t need to mention how overwhelmingly pleasurable this was for me. I could feel my whole body throbbing with each touch, lick and suck of her gorgeous nipples.
She whispered to me that she would come from her breasts being sucked this way. Her nipples were more sensitive than ever since her pregnancy and she often gave herself orgasms just by stimulating her nipples. I told her I could stay here and suckle her breasts all day, as long as she wanted, if she wanted me to. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more sexually arousing sight than this beautiful voluptuous woman above me with her tremendous milky breasts exposed for me to caress and make love to. Her breathing quickened, I could tell orgasm wasn’t far away. I could feel her hips rocking and knew she was stimulating her clitoris on the seam of my jeans. I wanted to be there, but I could see how much she was enjoying the attention on her breasts so I stayed right where I was, sucking, licking, stroking, gently massaging each breast in turn.
I felt her breath quicken more. She continued to rub her crotch against mine and push her breasts against my face. I thought I might explode in my pants, this was fantasy come true. I drew one nipple into my mouth, hard, and pinched the other between my thumb and forefinger and she gasped, shaking, as her orgasm took hold. Milk spurted forth from both nipples as she came, my mouth filled with it, my other hand wet with it. Her orgasm seemed to go on and on, her head thrown back, her beautiful breasts bouncing as she shook, until she calmed a little and her breath came in shorter gasps, leaning against me, holding my head to her chest, twitching occasionally, melting into me.
After I don’t know how many minutes she pulled back and looked down at me, then kissed me. She smiled a little, got off my lap. She sat down next to me and asked me to stand up. I didn’t know what she was going to do. She said she wanted to see me come for her. She unzipped my jeans and of course my erection, painfully hard and leaking pre-come sprung out. She stroked me for a moment, her touch like an electric shock on my skin and I thought I would come just from that. But she laid back against the sofa, pulled up her skirt and her underwear to one side, showing me her beautiful pussy. She was wet and swollen and said she was just like me, aroused and wanting. She wanted me to stroke myself and come looking at her. This for me was more than I could have wished for. She laid back stroking her pink clitoris while I stroked my erection, never taking my eyes off her, while she kept her eyes on me. I looked at her amazing huge breasts, roundish belly and full thighs with that aroused red glistening centre, and stood in front of her, stroking myself, knowing I wouldn’t take long to come and trying to hold back as long as I could, who knew if I would ever experience this again? She whispered to me how good I made her feel, how beautiful my cock was, one day she would have it, have all of me, but today she wanted me to come standing in front of her. I couldn’t hold back any more, my cock exploded just like her breasts exploded with her milk at the moment of climax and she never took her eyes off me, watched every drop spurt from me, not smiling but intense, that word just kept coming back to me. Intensely watching me come for her.
Afterwards we dressed and sat holding each other. It was such a beautiful experience and we talked about how neither of us felt guilty. Maybe we should have, but I chose to see it as giving someone I care about something she needed most. It made us both feel amazing. I have no idea if it will ever happen again, or more might happen. My wanting her hasn’t lessened since then but has only become stronger. I would never push her for more, but I do know what if she needs me again, I will be there.