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Journal Entry 00264 233 000 P'nyssa's Child Late Term
P'nyssa's Child, Late Term
Journal Entry 233 / 00264
Aldea, Narquel 22, 00264
"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?"
"Tiresome."
"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 through the material. P'nyssa's 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 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
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? 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 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 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
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 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 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 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.
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The Journal Entries of Kennet R'yal Shardik, et. al., and Related Tales
are Copyright (c) 1989-2000 Elf Mathieu Sternberg. Distribution limited
to electronic media not-for-profit use only. All other rights are reserved
to the author.