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I still had trouble believing that Cally’s story was true: how could David have been so awful??? I had genuinely *liked* the guy, had been happy about his relationship with my sister, and elated about the pregnancy they had both wanted… Well, at least Cally had wanted it. He hadn’t been especially rich but he had a steady job, seemed to care about Cally as much as I did, and most of all he was a good guy. Damn! If I’d never been wrong before, this would have been a spectacular first!
As I pulled into my sister’s driveway and parked my car next to hers, I took a deep breath and calmed myself: no need to arrive there all worked up. But damn it! Why did he leave her so unexpectedly, with no warning or explanation whatsoever? How could someone *do* such a thing? On the other hand, why had Cally waited two weeks before calling me? Or calling anyone else for that matter? She’s been caring for her three month old baby all alone now, with no one to run errands, get up at night to let her rest, cook decent meals when she was too tired…
Once more I took a deep breath: Cally knew all this and I wouldn’t be any help if I arrived angry at her bastard ex-boyfriend. A few minutes later I grabbed my bags and walked up to the door. She opened the door with a large grin, although her eyes told another story: she was exhausted. But now wasn’t the time to worry about that. Stephen was in her arms, giggling and laughing, as he really liked his favorite uncle. I dropped my bags and took him in my arms, tickling his belly and nose.
When Cally reached for my bags I told her to leave them there for the moment. I followed her to the living room and as we talked, Stephen slowly fell asleep in my arms. With a smile Cally got up and bent to pick him up. And, inadvertently, showed me her generous cleavage. I closed my eyes and smiled, but when I opened them up she had turned around and was walking toward her room: apparently she enjoyed having her baby in her own room. I had always enjoyed my sister’s cleavage, their shape and size and the smattering of freckles. In the utmost secrecy of course. And now that the pregnancy had turned her breasts into barely believable delights, it was hard to keep my eyes away from them.
All through our adolescence I had secretly enjoyed looking at Cally’s body. She was relatively short, about 5’4″, and she’d always had a compact body. At no point in her life had she looked like a typical waif teen. Instead she had a body meant to do sports: strong and firm, the kind that let her run for hours and hadn’t let even one fall or accident break one of her bones. On the other hand, she was no tomboy, God no! She had more curves than any teenager had any right to have. I remember seeing her girl friends staring at her in envy, when they though nobody was looking. Damn! *I* was looking too!
And then, on the night of her twentieth birthday a friend of hers brought another friend, David, and the rest is history. They met a few times, went to a few parties and movies together, hooked up and eventually decided to keep the unexpected child a year and a half later. They had bought a small house when they discovered Cally was pregnant, and at least he had let her keep it. Until now, that is: who knew what cheap trick the bastard had up his sleeve?
Cally returned from her room a few minutes later, and this time I had a better look at her: she was wearing a thin nightgown with a tank top underneath. the nightgown was opened widely, as if handling Stephen had pulled it opened. Or had she breastfed him? No, she hadn’t been gone long enough… Anyways, the view was remarkable: the breasts that had always been full and round were now at least a cup size bigger, filled with warm milk. And I guessed that she was wearing nothing but one of her breastfeeding bras, because her breasts were obviously not restrained very much.
I shook my head and smiled to her as she sat next to me. I was unprepared for what she did next. Cally wrapped her arms around my next, buried her face against my neck and began crying. I knew things had not been easy for her, but I had no idea it was that bad… But when she began talking a few minutes later, her situation began to dawn on me. She was exhausted, all alone, trying to deal with a first baby and with the fact that her boyfriend had been a bastard after all, all the while coming to terms with the breakup itself…
I held her in my arms, letting her cry as much as she wanted. Eventually she stopped and fell asleep against me. I stayed there for a while, caressing her hair and holding her tight. After a while I slipped out and picked her up in my arms. I climbed the stairs and found her room in complete disarray. After putting her down on a corner of her bed I proceeded to remove the clothes and random things that were strewn around over the rest of the queen-sized bed. Cally woke up as I finished and began unfastening the belt of her nightgown. I came around and helped her get it off.
“I need to get that bra off, big brother…”
“Ok Cally, don’t worry about it. Just sit up and I’ll do it.”
It was an awkward betist giriş moment, but she was so tired and miserable that it didn’t feel wrong at all. I simply raised her tank top and unsnapped the bra, letting her do the rest. No wonder she had wanted to take it off: it was a big thing, probably designed to be as comfortable as possible but doing a terrible job of it. After letting it fall beside the bed, Cally laid back down and I pulled the blankets over her. I kissed her brow and whished her good night. She was asleep before I had left the room.
The first week had been hard for me, never having cared for a baby before, but it was worth it: Cally was looking much better than she had when I got here. I could help with the nights, the cooking and cleaning, and even repaired a few odds things in and around the house. Stephen turned out to be a sweet little child, not predisposed to cry very often and one who easily fell asleep, enjoying his long naps. Cally and I had always been close, but the week together had brought us even closer. I was no longer the visiting-brother-that-came-to-help but simply Johan, the big brother that I had been during our youth. Everything was going nicely for everybody.
Except perhaps one thing: her breasts kept haunting me like hungry animals! I had seen her quite a few times during her pregnancy, but always at social family gatherings or other public events. Despite her loose blouses and dresses, I had been fascinated by them: a powerful mix of normal male obsession and the remembered adolescent thrills that had turned me into a breast-man. During those months I had taken every opportunity to look at her breasts, but nothing out of the ordinary had happened: loose clothing didn’t feed my fantasies very well. For example I had never seen her breast-feed Stephen before; now it was a daily occurrence.
And oh God was it a wonderful thing! At first Cally had been shy about this, but I told her that I was here to help her, not hinder her routines. And besides, she clearly enjoyed breast-feeding her little boy. And, for some reason, I always managed to be seated in front of her when she did this, at a slight angle. The first few times my sister was still careful and tried to be as discrete as she could. She was not overly prudish or timid about showing me her opened cleavage, but she didn’t linger either. As soon as Stephen was done she would pull the bra patch back up and lace her gown.
But after a few days she began to loosen up. She *had* seen me looking at her breasts while she was breast-feeding; heck! she even smiled at me once, winking at me when she caught me. But this afternoon, as we were talking above a breast-feeding; she got caught up in our conversation and didn’t notice immediately that Stephen was done and had fallen asleep. He had turned his head away slightly and my sister’s large nipple was dawning into my field of view. As she talked, Cally’s arm gradually moved lower, exposing more and more of her full breast to me.
The sight was incredible. I know some women have their breasts distorted by pregnancy: not Cally. She had always had big, round and firm breasts, and all that milk didn’t make them sag at all. Instead they were just the same, only bigger, better. Generous curves all around, a thrusting bulge from her chest upwards, all the way to her distended nipple. It was pink and still shiny from Stephen’s saliva, the large aureole smoothly following the curve of the breast and the big nipple itself protruding hugely. Only one of her breast was exposed but I could see the other one’s swell, confined in the bra and between my sister’s arms, nearly touching its twin.
And of course, all that wonderful skin was covered with freckles. Cally inherited my father’s red hair, while I got my mother’s blonde. In high summer a few freckles could appear on my face, but that was it. Cally, on the other hand, had them all year long. Luckily they were not the really dark kind of freckles. Instead they were a lovely shade of pale brown, and covered her face, shoulder and breasts. I could see now that the lower part of her breasts had only a few of them. I felt a thrill as I realized that only a few other people would know that. Oh God how badly would I like to touch them!
All this from quick glances as Cally was talking, hoping that she wouldn’t either see me or notice that Stephen was asleep. But of course she eventually did. When her head came back up, after seeing her exposed breast, she turned red but smiled nonetheless:
“Enjoying the view?”
“Umm, well, I think that…”
Cally laughed, as she was lacing her medieval-style gown. “Still the unrepentant breast-man are you!”
“You got me there.” I laughed with her. “I’m sorry Cally.”
“Well don’t be Johan. I don’t mind and I know you won’t try to take advantage of me.” She got up, taking Stephen to his bed. “But if I catch you taking a peek at me while I’m in the shower, I’m going to start wondering why you came here after all!”
We both laughed at her joke, but my cock twitched at the thought. The following evening, Stephen having taken only betist yeni giriş a short nap in the afternoon, Cally breast-feed him again before putting him to sleep for the night. This time I didn’t get to see as great a show as earlier, but it was clear that Cally wasn’t as careful as usual. Instead of having Stephen’s head in my way as she covered herself up, I got treated to a slight peek at her entire breast again. With a hard-on that remained for a lot longer than I believed possible, we talked until 10 o’clock before going to bed.
As the house became quiet I lay awake in my bed, in the room next to Cally. It was obviously the old baby room, before she decided to have him sleep in her room. In the deep silence I suddenly heard a very faint hum, the sound of a small motor. It was coming from my sister’s room, through the wall. The first image that came to my mind was that of a vibrator. Or, more precisely: the image of my sister naked, twisting in sinful pleasure *around* a huge vibrator. But I soon realized that it didn’t sound like any vibrator I could imagine. I was puzzled. Then I hear Cally sighing miserably, probably cursing under her breath as well, before getting up to go to the bathroom. I nearly got up but something held me back.
The answer to the puzzle came up by itself the following morning. Cally’s usual nighttime attire was quite simple: a pair of long and loose flannel pants and a tank top over a breast-feeding bra. Only this morning she wasn’t wearing the bra. Her breasts were huge and obvious under the thin top, and as firm and milk-distended as they were, they still jiggled and moved around a lot. A blind man couldn’t have missed them. My eyes must’ve widened slightly, before I could do anything about it, because Cally’s face fell and she crossed her arms in front of her breasts.
“Oh I’m sorry Johan.” she said, nearly sobbing. “I should never have come here like this… I’ll go change.”
“Cally wait!” I said, feeling bad that she had somehow been offended by my glance. Fortunately she stopped and turned around. She was still on the verge of tears and kept her arms in front of her breasts. “What’s wrong? Please tell me!”
“Oh…” she sighed, letting her arms fall to her sides. “I know you didn’t mean to stare at those giant things!” she looked down briefly to her breasts. They were incredible: the freckles obvious in the revealed milk-induced cleavage and oh so sexy! But now was not the time! And this was my sister, for crying out loud!! Her small crisis made me realize just how weird this whole breast-thing was: my very own, flesh and blood sister!
“Er…” was all I could manage to croak.
“It shouldn’t be your problem. I’m sorry I did this. What was I thinking!” She turned around, nearly sobbing again.
I followed her into her room and asked, “Come on now Cally, apparently I did something that offended you and I want to know what it is so that I can apologize.”
“What? Oh no! You didn’t do anything wrong Johan.” she looked at me and it was clear that she was speaking the truth. “I’ve seen you stealing glances at those monsters since you got here. But I don’t really mind… In fact since The Jerk left I’ve been feeling uglier and uglier. He *did* compliment me on my looks, at the very least… And now it seems that without— Oh what am I rambling about! that’s not the problem at all.”
“Take your time Cally.” we sat on her bed and she took a deep sigh.
“For the past few weeks Stephen hasn’t been feeding a lot. He feeds often but not for long. I’ve called the doc and he says that it’s normal, that Stephen had been feeding too much before.” She took another deep breath, apparently hesitant to continue.
“Take your time Cally, we’re in no hurry.” I was trying my best not to look down her top, which was loose and opened way too much…
“Ok then, here it goes. My breasts hurt.” she paused, not knowing how I would react. When I didn’t, she explained. “Stephen isn’t drinking enough milk, and the damned pump isn’t working as it should.” A light bulb appeared in my head, shining light on yesterday’s puzzle. “And when it works at all, it hurts me more.”
“And what can you do when the pump doesn’t work? What did the women do before those pumps were invented?”
“Well, they either breast-fed other kids or squeezed the milk out.”
“Why can’t you do that? The squeezing I mean?” I was getting uncomfortable talking about such things, but listened to what she had to say.
“I can, and I do. I did that yesterday night, but even when I go gently it hurts. I used to be able to…” and then she reddened, her pale white skin turning unambiguously red. “I used to be able to suck it out myself, but now there’s too much and I can’t reach my nipple because of all the milk…”
There was a slight pause. For twenty seconds I battled my imagination and tried to forget the flood of images that poured into my mind: Cally sucking milk out of her own breasts.
“Even my softer bras become painful. So that’s why I’m not wearing one now. But I should have guessed that it would be too obvious.” betist güvenilirmi
“Don’t worry about that Cally… I don’t mind.”
“I’m sure you don’t!” she laughed quickly, her hand wiping the few tears that had fallen.
“I’m serious. You’re breasts are wonderful, have always been wonderful, and your pregnancy has only made them even more amazing.”
“They’ve been such a hassle those past few months, that even the sweet pleasure I feel when Stephen feeds isn’t all that great anymore. And since he can’t drink enough anymore, it’s gotten worse.”
“Well of course he can’t drink it all! Even a grown man would find it difficult to empty them…” I realized what I was saying too late.
Cally looked at me, a strange expression on her face. She was still red. Stumbling over the first few words, she said: “The only place where I’m comfortable is in the bath. In fact I’m going to go and take one right now.”
She didn’t run out of the room, but it was clear that she had seen the implications of my last words. I found myself alone sitting on her bed, a hard-on in my jeans and too many fantasies in my head. I took a deep breath, got up carefully and went back to the kitchen.
Sitting in the living room with a book, waiting for Cally to come out of her bath, I didn’t know what was going to happen. I was pleasantly aroused and my cock was already half-hard from her tank top, but I was also anxious: how was she going to react, to say or worse, not say. She stayed quite a long time in the bath, apparently having brought Stephen with her for some of that time. I was getting worried as the morning went on: how was she reacting to our discussion? Yet as she walked into the living room with Stephen in her arms, she gave me a very sweet and soft smile. She was also still wearing the same thing as this morning: a tank top with no bra. She sat next to me on the couch and placed Stephen in the crook of her arm to breast-feed him. She lowered one of the tank top’s straps leisurely, allowing me once again a full, unobstructed view of her breast, before pulling Stephen close.
I had never been so close to her when she was breastfeeding, and tried to keep my glances short and subtle. But after hearing her comments about how she didn’t mind me looking and the fact that she had chosen to sit next to me, I didn’t feel so hesitant to look. In fact I dropped the book and turned towards her overtly. After a few seconds she turned and looked at me staring at her and smiled again, gentle and honest. I smiled back, taking a relaxing deep breath. Something had happened during our conversation, and it looked like the rest was going to come about in silence.
Her exposed breast was just as marvelous as I remembered, creamy white skin dusted with freckles. Large and firm, generous and assertive as it thrust towards Stephen’s, or anyone else’s, mouth. But right now I wanted to see more of those breasts. Slowly, deliberately, I reached up and grabbed the tank top’s other strap. After waiting for a few seconds, while Cally smiled but didn’t look at me, I pulled it down completely to reveal her left breast in all its glory. This was the kind of breast that even the better surgeons couldn’t copy. Not only round, firm and flawless, but also perfectly placed on her chest, with a nipple that pointed slightly outward and upward, with a pale and delicate pink aureole that begged to be kissed, sucked and cared for lovingly.
Unable to resist that call, I grabbed a pillow and placed it on Cally’s thigh. As I lied down and placed my mouth mere inches away from her nipple, she turned and looked at me. Quietly she gave me another of those smiles and placed her hand around my shoulders, before pulling me in as well. I was not prepared for her skin’s heat. She was just out of the bath, her skin clean and smelling faintly of soap and of herself, and her big nipple in my mouth felt wonderful. Her whole body seemed warm against me: her arm around my side and back, her belly, her breast against my cheek and her nipple between my lips…
As I began sucking I felt a small surge of milk flowing into my mouth, my very first taste of breast milk. Peculiar taste: both more sweet and sour than regular milk, but the simple act of sucking it out of my sister’s breast was blowing me away in any case. My left hand moved up and cupped the generous breast, squeezing it gently between my fingers. I could feel it being pressed against my cheek, could feel its heat and see the freckles I had looked at so often… I took a long pull of her milk and was rewarded by Cally’s sigh and slight giggle. When I looked up she was staring back down at me, smiling softly.
I don’t know how long I stayed there sucking and kissing and licking and caressing my sister’s breast. At one point I heard Stephen breathing deeply: he had fallen asleep. My sister then whispered: “don’t move…” and proceeded to lay Stephen down against the pillows of the couch. With a shy smile, she asked: “Could you finish the other one Johan?” Could I? I moved up on her thigh and rested my head in the crook of her arm. As I began feasting on her other breast, using my tongue as much as my lips to kiss and explore this second wonder, my intentions were becoming obviously sexual. But as I was seeing Cally’s grin as I was kissing the underside of her breast, I just kept going.
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