Revolutionary Love - His Milky Dream

**** It is 1917 in the heat of the Russian Revolution. Artist and free love advocate Natasha Sokolov is the lover of revolutionary leader Borya Petrov. Tonight, Natasha comforts Borya, who again is unable to sleep. He suckles at her nipple, drifting into a peaceful dream-state where he relives the excitement and comfort of his life long breast fetish.****

The moonlight bathed the cold Russian river land where the little resort cabin stood. A bit of smoke puffed its way out of the chimney from the little flames still going in the fireplace. A lamp light glowed in the window. Snug inside, Borya and Natasha had spent a rather pleasant evening working together, relaying the day's events to one another and focusing on upcoming meetings. He had worked out a schedule for her to speak in Paris the next month. This was not without its risks with France involved in the war, but Natasha was always up for an adventure and was not a stranger to being arrested, even if only temporarily. They discussed the possible outcomes and he assured her he had agents in place with funds and support, if need be, and she would never feel alone during her engagement there.

A short time after the midnight hour, Borya's energy was starting to wane, and not even another cup of strong coffee was going to get him thru the next item on his to-do list. He got up from the table and yawned, signaling it was time to wrap up. Natasha was already in her robe and had retired to lie in the bed as they worked over their plans, paperwork spread out over the blanket.

Borya washed up in the basin and grabbed a few extra pieces of firewood and threw them in the fireplace. When Natasha looked up, she laughed and remarked he was wandering around in just his nightshirt, his sleeping pants nowhere to be seen.

"I forgot to pack them!" he said, taking one last look thru his rucksack.

She laughed again. "Well if it's any consolation, you have a very nice rear end."

"Thank you." He said sarcastically. It's good to know sitting in all those tedious meetings this past week hasn't flattened it like a biscuit under an auto tire." He took one last look around then gave up the hunt. Annoyed with himself, he came over to the bed. Natasha collected the papers and set them on a nearby table, then dimmed the lamp.

"Come in to the warm bed, my dear," she said. "You don't need any clothes tonight, with the fire still going and these warm furs on the bed..."

She sat up and pulled her robe over her shoulders and removed it, dropping it over the side of the bed.

"And of course, there is me.." she said, laying across the blanket, now fully nude.

He stood for a moment beside her, gazing at her bathed in the moonlight that came thru the window. He doubted she had any idea how much more pleasant she made all of this demanding work.

"Da," he replied. "There is you."

Then he sat down on the bed, and she reached over to start undoing the buttons to his shirt. Once unbuttoned, he then moved to help her slide the shirt down his arms and off his body. Naked now, along with her, he leaned over her body and started planting kisses on her cheeks and forehead. Her hands moved up to cup his face, bringing his lips to hers so that they were now exchanging passionate kisses. His face was scruffier than usual, as he had not shaved in a few days and more of his beard was just starting to come in. Natasha always loved his kisses, on their first endearingly awkward night together, she recalled how he just wanted to kiss and kiss her for hours..perhaps a bit frightened at taking that huge step in joining, or perhaps he just loved using his mouth and wanted to savor the luxury of genuine romantic kissing that he had not had in years. Tonight, those first timid explorations had been replaced by the confidence of two lovers who had since traveled down an intimate journey of learning together, and the sensual exchange of lips and tongue had a deeper, more personal meaning.

She ran her hands down his back and placed them on each of his hips, motioning for him to bring his body over on the bed so that he was lying directly on top of her. Spreading her legs, she began to urge him to push against her, an invitation to make love, if he wished. He closed his eyes and dropped his head down, burying his face into the nape of her neck and letting out a grunt. He understood her wordless offer and any man half alive would have their organ at attention immediately, but tonight he was beyond exhausted.

Borya let out a weary sigh.

"Natasha, I do not think I could get my cock to stand if my very life depended on it. Please forgive me..sometimes my energy is just not there."

Natasha was always patient with him. She understood his cycles of energy and withdrawal, and there were times when he simply was going to need more rest. She gave him a reassuring hug.

"Let's both get some well needed sleep." she suggested, and moved so that they were both nestled together, she in back of him, with her arm under his, across his chest.

"You are not disappointed with me, are you?" he continued. "You know I would love to. Please tell me your offer stands."

She smiled. "You can accept my offer whenever you are ready. Even at work. You can just walk up to me, lift up my dress and pull down my panties, then pound me hard, right there in the office."

Her words were actually enough to make his cock twitch. He nearly reconsidered how tired he was.

"My God, Natasha, you do have a way with words.."

"I don't mean to tease!" she laughed. Now hush, your first idea was a good one. Let's both get some well needed rest."

She pulled the furs up over them so that they were in a warm, comforting nest. He turned on his side and she moved up closer behind him. As she sometimes did before they went to sleep, she would reach around his body and hold his penis while he drifted off, her warm fingers wrapped gently around it. He always found this incredibly comforting and loving. He felt cared for and acknowledged as a man.

In a rare moment of feeling safe and relaxed, he fell into a deep sleep.

At around four in the morning Natasha awoke to a familiar situation. Borya was talking in his sleep again. He was fretting about something, trying to work something out in his dream. He did this sometimes, talking in fits and starts, in broken sentences that were hard to make out. She used to shake him awake, asking him what was going on. He never remembered, but to her it sounded like he explaining something to people, sometimes barking something in short bursts, even in sleep unable to escape work.

Tonight as he mumbled and drifted thru his incoherent topics, she reached over and had him turn over to face her. She repositioned herself and gently lifted his head into her arms and cradled it there. She then took one of her big, full breasts in her hand and nuzzled the soft nipple into his lips.

"Come take Mother's breast," she whispered. "Open your mouth for her breast."

Barely awake but aware of himself being held and cuddled, Borya immediately responded, moaning softly as he felt her soft nipple nudging its way into his mouth. He parted his lips and drew it in eagerly, and right away began tugging and working to harden the nipple so he could latch firmly onto her during his feeding. Natasha laid her head back on the pillow and hoped this would help him drift off to a quieter sleep. She lay there and gently stroked his head while he sucked and nuzzled into her breast. His persistent nudging and nibbling would trigger delicious tingles thru her breasts and give her pleasant vaginal contractions that would make her sigh with pleasure. She closed her eyes and murmured softly to him.

"Mmmmmm yes, that's a good boy, make Mother's nipple nice and firm, hold tightly to her nipple."

In his half awake state he relished her gentle, encouraging words, and they set his mind adrift as his thoughts took him back to a very primal and very private place in his life. Locked inside the active and energetic mind of the revolutionary leader were memories of long ago that had begun his own personal journey into sexuality.

Drifting and dreaming, he was back to a little boy again. He was a jealous little boy, standing in the kitchen watching his younger brother breastfeeding . It filled Borya with envy. He too, wanted his mother's attention and milk filled breast in his mouth. But whining and tugging at her only earned him a scolding that he was too big to nurse like a baby. Later that same evening as he ate his supper, he overheard his mother talking to his father in the other room about what had happened that day.

"Borya started to cry and tug and at my blouse today, wanting to breastfeed." She said. "I think he sees his brother and feels jealous."

"In a way I don't blame him," he heard his father reply, and then the both of them laughed quietly together, and he could hear them kissing.

What did his father mean, Borya wondered. Did his father also see there was something to desire in the scenario? Maybe Borya's feelings were not anything to be ashamed of, but that he could simply no longer seek out his mother for that sort of comfort.

As he grew older, his curiosity about the comfort of mother's milk and her breasts led him to new observations. Every year in a field near his home, the sheep would give birth to their lambs. Borya would walk to and from school, stopping for a moment to climb up the fence to watch for a few minutes. He would seek out the ones feeding, watching the eager young lambs come poke their muzzles vigorously into their mother's udder to stimulate her milk flow. Then they would latch onto one of her swollen teats and begin feeding, their little tails flicking from side to side. Borya thought how lovely that must be, to be fed and comforted whenever they wanted. He too, wished he could be a little spring lamb.

Years later, when a young man's body and mind begin to turn their attention to the female sex, he began to transfer his feelings of comfort onto the womanly form. He remembered one day a schoolmate brought in some postcards of nude French ladies. These were real photographs, and after school quite a crowd of boys were out in the woods in their hiding spot, laughing and passing them around. Borya took a look at each one, staying silent as he looked at their proud poses, their arms over their heads to lift up and show off their big breasts and full hips. Shameless, beautiful women. In their warm eyes was an invitation for the viewer to reach out and touch them, enjoy them, to share in their sexual joy. They filled Borya with a great sense of admiration and now, a new, exciting feeling-sexual arousal. His cock would become swollen and would constantly be pressing against the inside of his trousers, creating a tremendous sense of pressure he needed to relieve. It was an addicting sensation, to be looking at those breasts and bodies and to have his feelings of need heightened to near obsession. The urgency to kiss, caress and touch a woman would become so intense he would have to milk himself multiple times a day, which was a challenge living with six other people. Usually he managed by taking a walk down by the river, to a secluded spot. Here he had the privacy to stroke and squirt his seed onto a nearby tree, his moans masked by the rushing river water.

Being somewhat anti-social by nature and very studious during his school days, Borya did not enjoy the pleasures of regular female company until after his graduation and admittance into law school. Here he made time for the lovely Anna, who was studying at a secretarial school nearby. They spent much time at the local cafe, taking walks in the nearby mountains on weekends and exchanging kisses on the sun dappled hiking trails. Although years from reaching it's head, the revolution was nevertheless picking up pace, and it was always in the wind, and always on people's minds. Borya found himself attracted to women who had much to say on the subject, and Anna was no exception. He would argue with her as much as he would reach to kiss her. There was something about a woman who stood her ground and pushed against him that would compel him not just to keep pressing his point but arouse him sexually.

One day while out on a dirt trail riding bikes, they were having a heated discussion about his favorite subject, politics, when Anna began to get more disgusted with his non stop objections and counter arguments to her points. She finally slowed down and pulled off the side of the path to stop her bike.

"Borya Petrov!" she said, exasperated. "Please stop being so disagreeable. It makes me feel like turning my bike around right this very minute..." she trailed off, looking down, then shouted with annoyance.

"Oh..now what?" she exclaimed with frustration. Her skirt had gotten caught up in the bike chain. She leaned down to try to pull it free but it was wedged in tightly.

"I'll get it" he said, and hopped off his bike. He bent down and worked her skirt free for her, although some grease had gotten onto the red material. He watched as she bent further down to inspect her skirt, and at that angle he could see the tops of her breasts dangling down inside of her dress top. As she fussed and wiped at the material, they bounced and jiggled in front of him, hanging like delicious pieces of fruit. His cock immediately began to fill and stiffen.

Anna remained preoccupied with her skirt when he reached up and put a hand under one of her breasts to cup it.

"What are you doing, you naughty boy?" she said. "Can't you see what's happened to my skirt? It's completely..."

"Never mind, it will wash out" he said, completely preoccupied with what he had just seen. He looked around for any place that might have some privacy.

"Come, let's take a walk into that tall grass, away from the path."

He took Anna by the hand and they walked until they found a nice thicket to hide in. With her still standing, he lay himself completely on the ground, then had her straddle him, so that her arms were on each side of his head and her chest was just above his face. He undid each button on her dress, one by one, until the front of it was open to him, and her brassiere hung down, holding inside her delicious, soft breasts. He pulled each bra cup down slowly, savoring the anticipation as one nice, full breast, and then the other, dropped out and dangled down over his face. They swung and swayed, their big soft nipples ready to be sucked. His cock was now fully firm and hard, straining against his trousers.

Anna was still irritated at this stubborn young man, who was at one moment debating fiercely with her and now was going to take it upon himself to feast on her breasts just steps from a public bike trail. She started to sit up in protest.

"No..let them hang," he whispered, his hands on her waist. "Please let me play, just for a moment," he begged.

Then, placing his hands on her back, he gently leaned her down so that one of her big soft areolas went right into his mouth. He wrapped one of his hands around the breast to keep it in place, then wrapped his other hand around the other breast and then began to pull and suck on the softness in his mouth, starting his insistent coaxing to draw the nipple out and make it stand at attention for him. When the first nipple became enlarged and firm he popped his lips off to look at his work. Then his attention turned to the second breast. Anna let out a mild little protest when his mouth latched on and he began his nipple coaxing again, sucking until he had the nipple hard and at attention. Looking at it, he felt he could do a little better, so he wrapped his lips around it again and gave it several more tugs and a good shake with his mouth, her whole breast jiggling for him. He then pulled his mouth off to see the nipple was now fully engorged, ripe and red.

He could hear her moan quietly as she looked down and saw her nipples were quite breastfeeding ready, sensitive, swollen and coated with his saliva. Laying on his back, he could detect pleasure in her eyes, despite her protests.

"See Anna? This is much better than being angry with me. Please let me play with them for a moment longer.."

Now that he had control of those nice hard nipples, he began to knead and inspect her breasts. He relished the heaviness, the suppleness, watching her breasts bounce, making them clap together and swing for him. Anna waited patiently, allowing him his pleasure. He cupped his hands under each one, feeling their weight, then he took his fingers and holding the underside of each one, he massaged and pulled gently on them. During his inspection he would go back to each nipple and suck each one again if it was needed, making sure they were as engorged as possible. With each fresh suck, the nipples popped out of his mouth deliciously erect. He flicked his tongue repeatedly over the surface of each one, his pelvis now thrusting rhythmically. His cock was throbbing and had been leaking lubrication for a while, creating a wet stain of slick wetness in the crotch of his trousers.

"Pull my cock out and stroke it." he asked, breathlessly. "Stroke my cock, please."

Anna, complied, reaching down to his trouser buttons. She undid them, and reached in to pull out his thick erection. Borya was still under her, lost in ecstasy, his mouth joyfully full of breast. Then she began firmly milking him with swift strokes. He was so wet with lubricant his cock was slick and slippery, making her stroking all the more pleasurable. He would not last. Anna may have not been in the mood that day but bless her heart, she had a natural skill at cock milking and a tireless, firm grip. He felt his orgasm imminent. Squirming on top of the flattened grass, his breathing began to pick up as his heart started to beat faster. With little cries he held firmly onto her breasts. There was no hope to delay this ejaculation and no reason to. The delicious rush in his testicles started and he succumbed. His powerful, pleasurable orgasmic contractions then began. He cried out loudly, unable to contain himself. He shouted again and again, his seed squirting up onto his shirt and one particularly strong squirt sending it across his face. Anna's dress top and breasts were also splashed with his milk. It was everywhere. Even when she finally released her grip on his swollen, twitching cock, it was still leaking, the last of his big load pooling up in his pubic hair. Exhausted and sedated, he lay flat on his back in the grass, unable to move. Meanwhile Anna immediately got up and started fussing with her dress, still preoccupied with the grease stain and now, she wanted to find every splash of seed and somehow wipe it off.

Once his breath was recovered, he started to laugh a bit.

"What is so funny?" she asked, obviously not amused.

"That poor dress!" he laughed. "First the victim of a greasy bike chain, and now, covered in cum. Can you imagine what someone would say if they found it like this?" he burst out laughing at the thought.

"Stop it! It's not funny!" she said, her brow furrowed. "I borrowed this dress, Borya! It belongs to my room mate!"

Somehow this made him laugh harder, there seemed something so ridiculous about it all.

"I'm glad you think it's so funny," she said. "It just shows how selfish you really are. You have to be right all the time and you have to get what you want all the time. You got what you wanted from me, and now you just laugh at me."

She got up and headed back to her bike. Borya scrambled to his feet, wiping off his shirt and face with the side of his hand. He tucked his wet cock back into his trousers and buttoned up.

"Come on, Anna..I didn't mean to upset you. I'll help you clean the dress, I promise. Whatever money you might need, if you have to take it to the laundry..."