Crying in front of someone else’s baby feels wrong in an unexpected kind of way. At first, they were only tears, but eventually I did start to sob. It got so bad that I had to put Kieran back in his crib, so I could go dry my eyes. Let me explain.
I got a C minus on an exam, when I really needed at least a B. My professor, who knows me very well at this point because I stay after every day with questions, she handed me the test back, and gave me a consolatory pat on the shoulder. I’m probably going to fail out of HST 141, the worst part being that it’s African-American History and I live with a black person. I mean, Kiera wouldn’t actually care that I failed it, but I would. Call it white guilt, I guess.
Kiera walked through the door, with a hard sigh, and stormed straight into her bedroom. I was seated on the edge of her bed still, rubbing my eyes, trying to calm myself. I couldn’t let her catch me crying in her bedroom; that’s some creepy shit out of context. I stood up immediately, and turned my face away, towards the window. “I just put him down for naptime. Waiting for him to fall asleep,” I said.
She flopped over the side of her bed, after she tossed her backpack onto the ground, thankfully paying me no attention. I walked around her to leave the room. “Where are you headed, girl?”
“I got some homework I need to take care of,” I lied. She rolled over onto her back, the cloth of her t-shirt tightening behind her, making the garment hug her tight like spandex. She was wearing a plain, neon orange, tourist shirt from somewhere I hadn’t been, and a pair of “Fuck off, it’s Friday” sweats. I wanted to go to her and embrace her until I felt better, but I was afraid of taking our relationship there.
“Bring it in here. We’ll work together,” she said, calling my bluff. I mean, I did have things I needed to be working on, but nothing was due. I went to get my books anyway. By the time
I got back, she had removed her bra, and changed into a white tank. When I finally laid down across from her on the bed, books spread out between us, she asked, “So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong, babygirl?” My hair stood on end, as I unconsciously willed myself to shrink down into nothing, to escape her careful sight. Before I could escape into myself, she covered the back of my hand with her palm. “Starla?”
“I’m probably going to fail a class,” I admitted. “Sorry… I was playing with Kieran, and I didn’t want…” I giggled a bit. “I didn’t want to cry on your baby.”
“Thanks, I guess,” she said, offering a weak smile. “We’ve all been there. It’s okay.” She looked down at my books; I had a biochem textbook open, but my notes were from anatomy. “You don’t actually have homework, do you?”
“I don’t… I was just trying to get out of your hair,” I said.
“Well, I’m here. I wish you would have told me upfront,” she said, stroking my hand with her thumb. “Can I hold you?” I nodded, as she opened her arms for me. I crawled into her embrace, and she laid down on her back, taking me down under the thick comforter with her. I missed taking my crazy pills that morning; it was 5pm and my unshackled brain was exhausted from it’s day at large. It didn’t take me long to fall asleep at all, basking in mama’s warmth. What she said to me was true: everyone does fail, but laying there with her made her truth all the more acceptable. Words turned to delicious fruits, as I teetered between real life, and my dreams. I was okay. I was going to be okay. I *am* going to be okay.
The sun was already down by the time I woke up. Tiny, baby hands were grabbing at my hair, pulling me from my sleep. Kieran was on the bed beside me, trying to figure out if my bright blonde hair was something good to eat. Kiera didn’t let him try it, of course, but I was awake now. “I just fed him,” she said. “I guess that makes it your turn, doesn’t it?”
“You’ve still got milk for me,” I asked, a bit impressed. Kieran was a hefty child, who looked like he could drink us under the table at a bar.
“Well that’s partially your fault,” she said, crossing her arms, while I regained control of my scalp from the infant. “My body thinks I have another baby now that I’m pumping and feeding two people. But hey, if this keeps up, you can just ship me off to the nearest cattle ranch…”
“You’re not a cow, Kiera,” I said, as I made my way over to her. Kieran’s eyes shot open as my body emerged from the covers. He was thoroughly fenced in between our bodies, unable to roll off of the bed, short of learning how to walk without even having kneecaps yet.
She held her breasts up for me, as I leaned in. I pressed my tongue against the edge of her dark areola, bringing it up to the nipple, and flicking it repeatedly. “I said it was your turn to feed, not…” She moaned slightly; I could hear her voice practically blushing. She didn’t push me away, or tell me to stop. I kissed her breasts until her nipples were stiff, and she had to close her eyes. Finally, I let her enter my mouth, and began to relieve her of her sweet, vaguely vanilla cream. Mama lets me pig out, over her. She likes it when I fill my mouth a bit before I swallow, intentionally letting it dribble down my chin.
Realizing that things were about to get heated very quickly, Kiera took up her child, and set him down in the crib, turning on his favorite television show, while the adults had their fun. Mama laid me down on my back, and laid down on top of me, dropping her heavy breasts straight down on top of my face. Her legs were spread open, in this position, so I folded one leg up, pressing my thigh against the front of her sweats, for her to grind. She rolled her sweats down halfway, and moved her panties to the side; she was already incredibly slick against my leg, as she worked her clit against me.
We didn’t actively feed for very long, but I did spend about half an hour total, worshipping her tender breasts with my tongue and lips. She never announced her orgasm, nor did I notice at first. When she moved for just a moment, a chilly blast of air hit my leg, curling all the way up the thigh, beneath the skirt I was wearing. I was covered in her cum; it was even on my own pussy, slipping down between my labia. Her wonderfully thick clit held a drop of her nectar on the tip, when I looked down at it; she was soaked from the top of her mound to her asshole, making a complete mess of me.
I immediately went down into a 69 position, to clean her up (really just to drink in more of her essence). I bathed her labia first, with my tongue, viscous trails of her cum connecting my chilly cheeks to her pussy, whenever I pulled back to breathe. She took this opportunity to explore my cunt with her fingers. She anchored her hand with her thumb pressed against the side of my hood, while she set two fingers to penetrating my pussy, straight to my g-spot, like she had made a mental map last time. I closed my eyes to imagine her journey inside, while I writhed around her hand.
Her clit became like a piece of candy to me, the way just feeling it on my tongue brought a kind of mouth pleasure. I could lick her in just the right way, and receive an instant, throbbing reaction. I matched my lips’ motions with her throbbing, giving her clit a tiny little hole to fuck, and she instinctively began to grind her hips into me. A third finger inside of my pussy made my entire skull buzz with a pleasured hum, as she facefucked me.
She waited until my toes curled around the sheets for her to use her second hand to stroke my bud. Under her assault, I felt a heated pressure building rapidly, that I knew I had no hope of stopping. My first instinct (I won’t lie, I’m no pornstar. I had no idea what was happening at first) was to try to get out of there, and to make it to the bathroom if I could. She spotted me trying to make myself scarce, and immediately clamped down on both sides of my head in her thighs. “Be still,” she demanded. “Check this shit out.” She increased the pressure on my g-spot, moving even more rapidly now, as she began to spank my mound and labia with her hand.
“Oh, oh, fuck, fuck, Kiera—” It was too late. I did the thing I was fighting tooth and nail to avoid. And it was absolutely incredible. I gushed about half a foot’s worth of squirt onto the bed, releasing a deep, guttural groan. She kept going until my lungs were empty, and the room was spinning. And until I squirted even more, over her arm and fingers. With a soft giggle, she turned herself around, to look down into my eyes as she straddled my chest.
“Never squirted before, huh,” she asked me.
“You sure you’re not a lesbian,” I asked her.
“Honestly, no. I’m not sure at all anymore,” she said, still laughing. “But I learned that trick for myself. I mean, what’s the point of taking all these anatomy classes if we don’t learn better sex?” My legs were still quivering. “Need to take a break?”
“Y— yeah… That was intense.”
“Okay. All of a sudden, I think I need to do some laundry,” she said, looking around at the mess we made.
“Same.”
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/5ytbyd/starlas_sex_journal_10317
forgot the [Non-fic] tag, and I don’t want to re-post, but if you’re this far into the series, I think you get the point.