Revolutionary Love - He Breastfeeds

**** It is 1917 in the heat of the Russian Revolution. Revolutionary party leader Borya Petrov and his lover Natasha retreat to their mountain cabin where she fulfills one of his private fantasies. ***

They finally reached their cabin just after the sun had set and the autumn chill had settled in. Once dismounted in front of the rented retreat Borya took the horses to the corral and got them settled. Natasha went inside to start the fire and retrieve some fresh water. She set about lighting some candles and a couple of oil lamps.

Eventually she heard his boots on the porch as he approached. She was busy cutting up bread and cheese and had set some water on to boil for tea. He came thru the front door with two rucksacks, one being filled with work he had brought with him. From the small kitchen she could hear him as he opened the drawstring and pulled out a thick stack of papers which he dropped onto the table by the window. He sighed and sat down next to the stack, immediately starting to sort thru it. He had not even bothered to remove his coat.

He never stops, not even for a moment, she thought. She was still always surprised he even had time to make love.

She arranged a plate of food and poured some tea into cups kept at the cabin for guests. When she came into the front room she found him sitting there with his head resting in his hands.

"God, but I'm tired," he said, as she set the plate down.

"You'll feel better after you've eaten something. It's a long ride out here" she replied, setting her rucksack by the bed and pulling out a couple of books.

He rubbed his forehead with his palms several times, then looked down at the stack in front of him.

"Somehow I've got to get thru all of this, I don't see how.."

"Eat," she said. "The reports can wait a few minutes. You know what happens when you don't eat properly."

He did indeed. He needed food on a regular schedule and he had to watch what he ate, otherwise he'd end up with stomach pains and general ill health. It amused her at times how grown men still needed a mother to remind them to take care of themselves.

"I probably will end up with insomnia again as well" he said, reaching for some bread. "I'll be surprised if I get even an hour of sleep over the next three days."

But Natasha had to be patient with him. Certainly their time together was supposed to be a "get away" but she knew also that Borya, the workaholic and tireless revolutionary leader, was far from able to get away from much of anything.

She let him eat and have his tea while he looked over some papers. She went and sat on the bed where she lit a lamp and took out her sketchbook to do some work. After some time, she heard him removing his boots and walking across the room to join her. He sat down and looked over at her, busily drawing. She could see the weariness in him, the look of a much older man inside of his skin. There was much to worry about. There were many disagreements and infighting in the party as he desperately tried to hold it together. The tasks were consuming him, yet he had set in motion a machine in which he was the only one who could keep this fast moving train on track.

She closed her sketchbook and set it on a nearby table.

"I think I know what you need." she said.

"And what would that be, my dear?" he said, with a bit of a playful spark in his eyes. This was the Borya she loved, and wished she could see more of.

She started to undo the top of her dress, watching his smile as she reached around and unhooked her brassiere, so that her luscious breasts dropped free and bare in front of him. His eyes were fixed on her soft nipples resting, waiting for him. He reached out one hand to cup one breast softly. He looked at her with a sly grin.

"You naughty girl, distracting me like this, when I have so much work to do."

Making no effort to stop himself, he began to gently stroke the underside of her breast, then he did the same to the other. He cupped them both to feel the weight of them in his hands, bouncing them gently, watching them jiggle freely. Nude now from the waist up, she leaned over and placed both her hands on the bed, so that her breasts hung down in front of him, making his examination easier. He relished feeling their fullness and examined her ripe femininity by taking one in each hand and kneading and massaging each one. Still fully dressed in his wool coat and suit, he could feel the first pleasurable stirrings of his cock inside of his trousers. His hands continued to manipulate her breasts, until he was at last unable to resist, his eager lips needed to find their way to a nipple. His oral fixation needed to be satisfied, so he started to position her so that her breasts pointed upwards at him, making his nipple seeking easier.

"Wait.." she said quietly. "First take your clothes off. You're still dressed for work."

Borya, slightly frustrated at having to stop, admitted she did have a point. He removed his hat, then stood up and took off his coat. Next the tie came undone, and then the jacket came off. He unbuttoned his waistcoat and took off his pocket watch. Now down to the final layer, he removed his white long sleeve shirt, then undid his trousers. Last, he removed his underwear so that her Russian lover was now completely nude, standing before her.

Natasha had since repositioned herself on the bed, propped up with pillows, making a nest for them both to lay in.

"Come lay your head in my lap" she said. Borya complied, settling in on the bed with his head nestled in her lap.

"Is my baby comfortable?" she asked softly. He nodded silently, feeling overwhelmingly soothed as he let his body relax for the first time all day.

She gently took a breast in her hand and tilted his head so that he could seek out her nipple. His moustache and goatee tickled the nipple at first until his determined lips and tongue eagerly found the delicious fleshy little nub, and he immediately latched on and began to suckle. She sighed as her vagina contracted pleasantly as he nursed. She noticed too, that his cock began to throb. He as well was experiencing great pleasure from sucking. She watched as his member steadily grew and was soon fully erect.

"Look at how hungry my baby is tonight." she said softly. Borya moaned softly, lost in his blissful suckling. " And my, my...see how big and hard he is," she continued to murmur. "Good boy..."

Borya continued to work her nipple, tugging and sucking, lost in the pleasant sensations as his cock stood at attention with his mouthful of soft breast and her hand softly stroking his head. She knew exactly what he needed.

"Mother's milk is coming in now.." Natasha said, entertaining one of Borya's very private fetishes. "You've been a good boy stimulating mother's nipples. Her milk is flowing now."

Borya began to squirm at the thought, as he imagined warm gushes of milk filling his mouth, pooling up under his tongue and over his teeth. He groaned and with one hand began to squeeze the breast he was firmly latched onto, as if expressing milk. He could hear Natasha sigh as her clitoris responded, little throbs fluttering thru it, creating waves of pleasure as they both moaned in unison.

As one of several children in his family household Borya was often left to his own devices and sometimes did not get the attention he sought. Jealously he would watch his baby brother nursing at his mother's nipple, wishing he could be cradled in her arms instead, being fed her warm milk as he snuggled into her breast. Once he tried to crawl up into his mother's lap and started to tug at the buttons on the front of her dress crying for milk, which ended with a firm scolding that he was a big boy and did not need mother's breast. As he grew older he probably was not even aware of how he was always putting his finger into his mouth when concentrating on his writing, or chewing on eraser tips. Developing into a young man he would try to engage whichever lady he may have been romancing in breast play, begging them to allow him to at least kiss their nipples but the Victorian morals of the day often had them giggling and embarrassed more than aroused. His wife, whom he loved but in all truth had married more as a comrade and company while in exile, had not touched him intimately in years. Natasha offered him a physical and emotional feast. She indulged his needs without judgment or inhibition. With her, he could be that little boy, being nurtured and attended to, in stark contrast to his vast responsibilities in the real world.

"Turn over," she whispered gently. Having been on his side, he moved so that he was on his back. His mouth stayed fixed on her nipple as his firm erection rested across his stomach. Reaching for her bottle of oil, she removed the cork and allowed a thin stream of it to drip down and drizzle onto his cock. She replaced the lid and as he contentedly nursed she wrapped her hand around his cock and allowed the oil to slide luxuriously around her fingers as she began to slowly squeeze and milk his swollen member.

The sensation made him arch his back and moan loudly, pushing his hips naturally up towards her, trying to thrust rhythmically as if making love.

"Uh uh...' she said. "Mother will milk her little boy. Keep still.." she gently pushed his torso back onto the bed and quieted him down.

Borya moaned in frustration but quieted to small whimpers as Natasha's strong, capable hand began to work his swollen, slick cock up and down, up and down. It made a wonderful juicy noise as the oil slipped and slid. His mouth was full of nipple and breast, into which he nuzzled and grunted as her tugging and massaging sent shocks of pleasure thru his cock and tingles down his legs.

"Oh yes..." she said gently. "He's tired and cranky and needs to good milking..we've got to get allllll that milk out."

The fulfillment of one of his most primal needs, to suckle like a baby, was strong catharsis for this normally stoic and highly focused man who seemed in control of the world. He had learned to repress his desires after years of no outlet. Now, he was free to nurse unashamed, to utterly enjoy himself with his lips latched on a beautiful and sexually expressive woman's plump little nipples. Feeling the promise of orgasmic release starting to stir, he spread his legs open so that he was completely surrendered to her as she continued to stroke him steadily.

"Feel how hard and firm that cock is," she said. "We'll get a nice, big load of seed tonight.." She slowly ran her hand down to his tight testicles, which had risen up closer under his cock, preparing for climax.

She could see Borya was getting very excited. He was breathing so hard he had to now open his mouth, he could no longer suck properly. He was moaning and starting to writhe. Natasha knew he could no longer lay still for his feeding session, he was beyond control at this point and was instinctually thrusting steadily into her oiled hand. This time she allowed him to continue.

"That's a good little boy" she cooed and encouraged. "We're almost done with your milking, you just have to give for Mother...let go of your milk..that's a good, good boy..."

He then surrendered himself completely to Mother's firm, insistent hand, moaning and trembling. He was almost blindsided when his orgasm hit, with his head nestled into her bosom he cried out with a pleasure that was so intense it almost turned to tears as he shouted in short, loud bursts. His body convulsed as Natasha held the rhythm on his spurting cock, watching him shudder and shake with his eyes wide open, lost in some unknown time and space that only a very powerful release can create. His cream shot everywhere, onto her breasts and past his shoulders onto the bed. Thick spurts released high into the air as Natasha watched joyfully, encouraging him to give and give. She was very good at ensuring Borya had loud, strong orgasms and making sure he released every drop of built up seed. Tonight, her fulfillment of a very primal and deep-seated need drained him entirely.

Sweating and exhausted, Borya lay recovering in Natasha's arms. She held him and stroked his forehead, calming him down so that he could catch his breath again. At last his cock had finished it's contractions, and his body had settled. When his eyes opened, he looked up at her, satiated and sedated in his dream-state.

"Thank you..." he said quietly. "That probably sounds silly, I suppose but..just..thank you." He was allowing himself to be completely vulnerable. He stroked her hair, not knowing what else to say, not really needing to say any more. She lovingly kissed his sweat-drenched forehead. She went for a dampened rag which she used to clean his genitals and to wipe their blanket.

For a man who suffered with terrible insomnia, she watched him fall asleep within a minute. Tonight was his, this was a gift to him from her, and that night a special peace came over the little cabin as the lovers slept soundly in each other's arms.