"Hi," P'nyssa said as she came in the door.
"Hello yourself," I replied in our ritual fashion. "How was your day at the office?"
"Any problem?" I asked, rising from my chair to help her to the couch. Let's face it; according to the Tindal gestation average, she's only fifteen days away, and with twins, she waddles. She needs help rising and sitting. She can barely walk on her own, and her back aches constantly. Of course, she won't take anything for it. But that's her; her body knows what it needs.
"Nobody will let me do my job!" she said.
"Well... All the paperwork is done by Jean, and Rhys won't let you do any psionic investment work, not when you're as pregnant as you are. So all that's left is teaching and counseling."
She smiled, a grim smile in her blue face, her yellow eyes crinkling ever so slightly. "I like teaching, really I do. And I don't mind helping students. Especially this one Centaur I have; he's got such a gift, Ken, you should see him! But I really want to be doing the rounds, talking to patients, my patients."
"Look, in a month you'll be on your way to recovering your girlish figure. Admittedly, you'll be getting no sleep at that point since we'll have two infants in the household, but hey, it's almost a return to normal." I smiled. "Can I get you something to drink?"
"Chocolate milk?" she asked with a small smile, almost innocent and girlish.
"Coming right up," I said, rising from the couch and going into the kitchen. The far right wall had been knocked out and a large swinging door installed leading into the apartment next door, which we had turned into the kid's room, essentially, although downstairs was where the nursery per. se. was going.
I returned with her milk and a glass of iced tea for me. Her children had been conceived in high winter, and it was now cold fall again, but at least the Castle was warm inside. The day was still sunny, and even a cold sun was welcome. I gave her the glass and she took a deep draught from it, draining about half the glass. I laughed at the gusto she had, and when she took the glass away from her lips she glanced sidelong at me, one eyebrow raised. It made me smile a little wider. I saw that she had the classic line of chocolate milk across her upper lip and mixed into her fur. I leaned over to lick it off, and to kiss her.
She returned my kiss, warmly but with a sense of desperation. Her kiss became insistent, her tongue in my mouth, our eyes closed. The kiss lasted a long time, but finally I broke away. "What was that for?" I asked.
"I don't know," she said shyly. "I just felt like... kissing you like that."
I leaned over to kiss her again, and again she returned the kiss, a little slower this time, a little more self-consciously. I reached over and placed my hand on her belly, feeling the swelling there, the massive evidence of new life waiting. Two and half weeks, that's all that was left.
I kissed her slowly, my hands trailing up her blouse to caress her soft breasts through the material. P'nyssa's breasts are normally small enough that she rarely wears anything, but they has swelled and so she was wearing a brassiere. I found it appropriate. I knew that she had found an excellent seamstress for the task, and she rarely complained.
Her mitt strayed over to my crotch and through my pants I could feel the insistent pressure as she caressed my growing erection. I shifted uncomfortably on the couch.
She giggled. I broke our kiss and said, "What now?"
"What do you mean?"
"Nyss, we haven't had sex in a few weeks, mostly because of your back and the extra weight in the way. Do you want to make love?"
"I thought we were getting to that."
I reached over and undid the frogs of her blouse, pushing it aside. She leaned forward off of the couch so that I could take it off completely. I removed her brassiere as well, then undid the snaps of her denim skirt, which parted easily, so I simply laid it back against the couch.
She was completely naked except for her white mid-calf boots, which I left on; I think they match wonderfully with her dark-blue fur. She leaned against the couch again, and we began to kiss again, making out like kids who'd never done this before.
And in a way, that's how I felt. There was a major difference in our kiss this time, because there was something so very different about her. Our kiss went on for several minutes while my hands roamed over her furred breasts and belly, going against the grain and disturbing the smooth patterns laid flat by the whole day of sitting in her office. I pinched her nipples, almost out of a sort of curiosity, but I was not disappointed when nothing happened; I didn't really expect anything.
She noticed the gesture. "If you were to suck on them for a while, they'd start filling."
"How long?" I asked.
"Oh, say ten minutes every hour."
"Oh, then it has to be regular?"
"Mm-hmm," she said. "Although the right hormones might not be there yet." She had opened my pants and my erection was now free. She stroked it slowly. "Scoot back a little," she said. I dutifully scooted. She leaned over, and then realized that there was something in the way- her. "Sit on the arm of the couch." I slid over to where she indicated. "Much better," she said, leaning over and slowly taking my cock into her mouth. Her warm and familiar mouth slid over the head of my cock and she took it deep; There are three places on my penis that are extremely sensitive- the head, the root, and my circumcision scar. She was getting to at least the scar, and I could feel the head of my cock pressing against the back of her throat.
I groaned, and she began to stroke back and forth with her mouth. She occasionally had to brush her hair out of the way, because it kept falling in front and getting in the way.
After a few minutes that kept me on tooth-grinding edge, she backed off. "Mouth getting tired?" I asked. That's usually what happens.
"Yah," she said. No sense in apologizing for something we both knew was going to happen. Believe it or not, in all the years we've been together, she's only been able to suck me to orgasm once.
I smiled, and got off the couch, walking around to in front of her and kneeling between her legs. She spread her legs and shifted her butt to the edge of the couch. This rhythm was almost ritual, except for the presence of our two unborn children. It made me laugh.
The word 'ritual' kept going through my head. I sat cross-legged on the floor before her, bending over and softly applying my tongue to her cunt, parting the soft pubic hair. I licked from her vaginal opening to just over the hood of her clitoris, then would start again from the bottom. She cooed, and then groaned with slight pain. "Are you okay?" I asked quickly.
"One... of them kicked me." She gasped. "But don't stop... That feels good." I bent back to the task at hand, licking slowly. Her juices came, sweet and musky. I slowly licked over and around the hood, enjoying the sounds I heard coming from her. 'Ritual.'
Cunnilingus is the sort of pleasure that somehow leaves me time to think of other things at the same time. Never work or trouble, but something happening around me. 'Ritual.' That what it was. I noticed my erection sinking, then decided to ignore it; she could easily revive it when the time came. As her orgasm slowly came in, I gently wetted my fingers with her juices and slid it into her cunt, pressing upward softly against her pubic bone. She likes that.
It was weird, when I thought about it. She was so pregnant her belly rubbed against my forehead as I ate her, and the softly grasping hole that tightened around my finger led to her children, to our children.
I licked her further, and she coaxed me further. Then she said, "Hard, now, please... I'm going to come..." I pressed in with all the force my tongue could direct, pressing against her groin. My jaw began to ache when she let out a low "Ohhhhhh..." and shuddered, her legs tensing against my shoulders as she came. I pressed my finger a little harder inside her cunt, and she groaned, and the flow of juices suddenly became much more obvious. I licked her a little softer, noting the slight tang, until her shudders were over, then rose to sit next to her on the couch.
"Sorry," she said. "I forgot to warn you... my bladder doesn't hold much nowadays, and when you press against me like that... I should have told you... I'm sorry."
"For what? Pissing on me?" I licked my lips. "I kinda' liked it. Nice to know I have that effect on you," I said, leering mischievously. She gave me a sidelong look. "Feel better?"
"Yeah," she said. "But what about you?"
"What about me?" I asked. Really, I'm not selfish.
"Don't you want to come?"
"Well... I certainly wouldn't mind. But I don't think were going to make love right now."
"Why not?" She asked. "Come on," she said. She slowly slid down off the couch and onto her knees. She pivoted so that she faced me on the couch, then placed her head in my lap, again sucking my cock. My erection rose again in her warm mouth, and when it was fully hard she said, "fuck me. Like this, please." I slid to my right and she lay her head against the cushion. Her ass was raised high in the air, and I could see her mitt sliding between her legs, her thumb rubbing her clit.
I agreed with her "Why not?" Her cunt was peeking out at me, pink and glistening through her blue fur, and I positioned myself. "Wait," she said.
"What?" I asked.
"Get my vibrator," she asked. I was about to turn and go down to the bedroom to get it when a soft whine and small glow on the coffee table heralded it's arrival. Dave, I thought to myself, that was a horrible waste of energy just to move something less than twenty meters. Thank you. Voyeur.
I handed it to her. It's a small sphere that fits in the palm of her mitten, with a rounded latex tapering at one end for her clit. It's designed for just what she uses it for. She turned it on and reached down between her legs. "Now," she ordered. "Get inside me."
I got back to where I'd been and eagerly slid my cock into her. Her cunt easily took me and wrapped around me with her warmth. I reached down and took her hips in my hands, slowly stroking myself in and out of her. "No," she said. "Fuck me."
I accepted the challenge, leaning over her. She had her chest on the couch, her belly hanging freely over the edge. I noticed that the cushion she lay on was also slightly wet with her own urine. I put my hands on the edge of the couch and began to fuck her as she wanted, hard. That actually makes it harder for me to come, and she knew it. She wanted this to last. I held myself up with my left hand, my elbow locked as I slammed my cock in and out, in and out.
She gave a high-pitched scream as her first orgasm washed over her, her legs trembling. I kept on, fucking her. But with my right hand I reached around and down, stroking her full belly. It was, I think, more than a little strange; on the deep thrusts my cock must have been hitting her cervix, bringing my presence to the attention of the two inside her.
She came again, and then again, and then she snapped the vibrator off. "Come for me, Ken," she gasped. "Anyway you want, just come." I slowed a little, so I could feel every thrust as her vagina gripped me with its wonderful friction. And I could feel that so-familiar feeling, that point of no return as I reached it, passed it, and came, shooting my semen deep into her cunt, screaming her name as I did.
I stayed there, holding myself off of her; her back must hurt her enough. I slowly slid out of her, enjoying the delicious over- sensitivity as I did so. She groaned and slowly turned over, settling to a sitting position on the floor, leaning against the couch.
"Like that?" I asked.
She gave me her famous You-Must-Be-Mad look, and said "Of course I liked it. You know what? I think orgasm must be good for cramps, because I feel great."
"Tired?" I asked.
"Hungry." she replied.
"In that case," I said, "let's get cleaned up, and we'll go to Tarr's for dinner. She invited us over."
"Why didn't you say so when I came in? Oh, okay. Help me up?"
I did, and we descended into the bedroom, and the shower.