textfiles/sex/EROTICA/J/joyce.txt

"I have to work in the baby room today," said Joyce. 

Curt turned to look at his pretty girlfriend in the church doorway,
noticing how cute and fresh she looked in her crisp sundress. This
was the most risque thing she could wear to church, he thought. It
clung to her curvy figure without looking like she was trying to
seduce. Curt let his eyes wander to the  swell of Joyce's chest,
spying a hint of cleavage.

"For the whole service?" he asked.

"Yeah." Joyce grinned sweetly and apologetically. "Me and April do it
once or twice a month."

They walked into the foyer, Joyce heading for the door marked
"Infants."

"We'll have lunch after the service, ok?" With that and once last
smile, she disappeared behind the door.

-----

In the middle of the service, Curt got up to go take a piss. Then he
stopped to get a drink from the fountain in the foyer. While the
water was hitting his lips, he eyed the "Infants" sign. There was a
two-way mirror placed low in the door-the kind that reflected on this
side, but offered a clear view from the other. Curt stood up
straight. He looked around. No one was near, so he wandered over. He
leaned close to the mirror and peered in.

Joyce's friend April came into view. Curt noticed that April wasn't
wearing a top; she was parading around the room in a bra and a black
skirt. He could see that she was chatting happily toward an unseen
part of the nursery, though all he could hear were the muffled tones
of her voice.

Then Joyce came into sight. She, too, wore only a bra on top; she'd
pulled the straps of her sundress down past her waist.

A baby cried from inside the room. Curt looked up suddenly, checking
to make sure no one saw him with his face in the mirror. He was still
alone, and he looked back into the nursery. Joyce was going from crib
to crib, tracking down the source of the crying. When she found it,
she picked the infant up, holding and rocking it in her arms like an
expert. April walked up from behind and began to rub Joyce's
shoulders. Then April's hand slid one of Joyce's bra straps off to
the side of her shoulder.

Curt felt his heart beating faster as he realized what he was
watching. Joyce was pulling her bra cup down and off to release her
breast. It was bigger, rounder, and more potent-looking than Curt had
imagined it to be. Even from this distance, he could see that her
nipple was deep red, and swollen into a thick cylinder.

Then Joyce held the baby's mouth up to her young bare breast, letting
her nipple brush across the infant's lips until they accepted it.
Curt saw Joyce's nipple and areola disappear into the baby's mouth,
and he noticed how the suction seemed to pull her tit slightly away
from her chest.

Then April took off her bra and, bending over an adjacent crib,
pulled out another infant. She put the child to her (smaller) breast
and began to nurse it. The two girls began chatting again. Joyce's
boyfriend rose, disoriented.


"Where's Joyce?"

He was standing with April in the foyer after the service. She was
fully dressed.

"She's still in the baby room," April was saying. "You can go in if
you like." She grinned.



"What are you doing?" asked Curt.

"I'm nursing," said Joyce, quietly.

He had opened the door and stepped in cautiously. There had been
Joyce, sitting quietly, another baby in her arms. Something was wrong
with the scene. Curt had looked carefully. One of Joyce's pale, round
breasts was exposed. The baby was sucking contentedly at it.

Curt probed a bit. "Don't you have to have a baby to do that? To feed
it, I mean."

Joyce looked matter-of-fact. "No. You can get milk on your own. A lot
of girls do -- you have to have milk to work here."

"So, uh, that's why you would never let me touch you there?"

"Yeah." She grinned mildly. "I was afraid something embarrassing
would happen."

"Like, it might hurt?" Now he was smiling too.

"No," she replied. Her smile faded slightly. "If you squeezed them,
milk would start coming out."

"Oh."

There was a pause. Curt said, "But you're not, um, hiding yourself
now."

Joyce smiled again. "You're ready."

Just then, Mrs. Thomson walked in briskly. She gave Curt a sharp
look. Then she walked over to Joyce. "Thank you for nursing Jessica,"
she said, taking the baby in her arms. "I'll see you next week." Mrs.
Thomson walked out, giving Curt another sharp look as she passed.

Joyce sat serenely in the middle of the room, then, her legs
together, one of her breasts exposed. She smiled. "Well," she said,
"what do you want to do?"

*****

Joyce let her bra drop completely off as she made her way to the door
of the baby room. She locked the door. Then she went back to the
chair and sat down. "Come'ere," she said.

Curt knelt before Joyce and kissed her lips. His tongue slid forward
through the tight passage and into her mouth. It met her tongue, and
the two velvetly intertwined.

But before he knew what was happening, Joyce was moving his head
firmly down, down to her chest. Her hands pressured his shoulders
until his lips were in front of her big, soft orb. It seemed even
bigger now that he was right in front of it.

"Come on," she was saying. "Try my milk."

Then he was sucking at her nipple. He noticed several things at once:
how puffy her large areola was, how its soft moistness helped him to
latch on, how full the nipple itself felt in his mouth, and then, in
a quick stream, how warm and so very  sweet Joyce's milk tasted. Curt
felt close to his girlfriend as he nursed from her thick nipple, and
as he sucked more intently, he felt her hand begin to caress his
hair. His stomach began to feel warm and full.

When she was done breastfeeding Curt, Joyce sat up and reached up her
dress with both hands. She slid her panties off smoothly, and after
she let them drop to the floor, she spread her legs. Her dress slid
up past her thighs.

Curt didn't have to be told what to do. As he opened her, leaned
down, and let his tongue slide through the trough of her vulva, Joyce
drew in a slow breath and thought of the other time this had happened
to her. She was thirteen, the guy was sixteen. That was as far as she
had let him go. She didn't exactly understand the purpose of it,
until she felt a warm tingling burning white hot pleasure there
between her legs. There was just one of them, and she didn't know for
a long time that this was orgasm. But Joyce was 18 now, and she knew
a lot more than she had five years before.


Joyce felt some of her education pay off right about then -- she
found herself escalating into a soaring pleasure oblivion as the blur
of Curt's slithering tongue pushed her over the edge. She had no idea
how long she felt the ecstasy, only that it seemed to melt through
minutes. However long, she came down only to find herself on the
verge of coming again. She could see Curt burying his lips between
her labia, sucking her clitoris into his mouth and refusing to let it
go. She began a quiet yelp -- "No, it's too . . ." -- that was
stifled as she rocketed away into a second orgasm.

Curt had noticed that her hands had found her bare breasts. A finger
delicately orbited each nipple until drops of her milk trickled and
spilled around her areolae. Curt had had enough. He dropped his hands
to his pants, unzipping with fury. About the time Joyce's third or
fourth orgasm (she'd lost count) ended, he presented his penis at the
opening of her vagina.

"Wait," he heard her say. She pushed the chair back and slid to the
floor. Even Curt, not the hallmark of sexual experience, could tell
how hungry Joyce was for that final act, coupling. She spread her
legs so far back and apart that she could grasp each ankle with ease.
Her cunt was opened wide, a stretched set of moist pink lips
surrounded by a trail of light brown hair. But though Curt could see
the entrance to Joyce's vagina easily, he noticed that the tunnel
itself hadn't opened much at all.

"Enter my gates with thanksgiving," Joyce joked nervously, making a
pun of a hymn the congregation had sung during the service.

Curt didn't let it spoil the mood. "I love you," he said, dropping
the head of his dick into Joyce.

Both gasped at once. Curt felt how warm -- no, hot -- she felt
inside, how soft, how wet. Joyce was recalling the previous, first
cock she had let inside her. She knew Curt was barely inside her, but
already she could tell that he was bigger than the other guy was.

He didn't exactly know what he was doing, but pumping in and out of
Joyce's cunt felt good, and he found himself doing it at a fairly
fast rate. Joyce, it was obvious to him, was enjoying it, too: her
hands were back at her breasts, milking the nipples with tight
squeezes, while her mouth was open. He wondered if she would come.

Joyce was coming. About five strokes into intercourse, the sweep of
orgasm suddenly enveloped her, and it refused to let her down. It
melted into different stages: she tingled all over, then her crotch
burned almost painfully, then she was aware of the relentless ramming
of Curt's dick in her pussy. Then her breasts -- oh, her breasts.
God. Each light touch of a finger to a puffy areola made her sting
with a delicious pleasure, a tiny orgasm in itself, on top of the one
that now seemed continuous.

When it slipped away, she opened her eyes to watch Curt leaning over
her, thrusting at the brown furry patch between her legs
unrelentlessly. God, what a turn-on. She found herself coming again,
but relatively briefly. When those 30 seconds were through, she
opened her eyes again, and this time the determination on his face
soon sent her back into ecstasy. And the cycle continued.


After twenty minutes of this, Joyce knew that it had to stop soon. If
she'd counted right -- which she doubted -- she'd had at least, say,
twenty orgasms. And though they seemed to become more intense each
time, sometimes much more intense, she felt as if she could barely
take anymore. "Oh, Curt, I love the feel of your dick," she
confessed.

Curt, meanwhile, was at the end of his rope when she said that. He
couldn't hold out any longer, though he'd heard so many times that it
was his duty to fuck a girl until she came at least once.

"Joyce," he said, gasping slightly at a breath, "uh, have you come
yet?"

Joyce giggled softly. "Yeah," she whispered. "I have."

She cupped a breast with her hand. "Here," she offered, "it'll help."

Curt leaned down to her tit and, taking a good portion of it in his
mouth, drew streams of milk from her. Joyce closed her eyes,
involuntarily swept away. The whole idea was such a turn-on to Curt
that he began to feel a really strong pressure in his groin.

"God, oh, God," he said, slowing his thrusts to long, powerful
strokes. It was over in a few seconds, and Joyce could feel a new
wetness deep within as come gushed from his dick.

They spent a long time that way, with Curt's head resting on Joyce's
chest, his mouth gently sucking at her full round breast, her hand
brushing against the back of his head. She felt tender and fulfilled
as she passed her milk to him. He felt warm inside; he felt as though
he would never take enough of it.


And from the other side of the two-way mirror, April smiled.