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Revolutionary Love-The Desire to Suckle

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Borya, the fearless and determined revolutionary leader, finds his secret desires reawakened.

*It is Europe, 1914, in the time of revolts, clandistine meetings, calls for Revolution. The future Russian Revolutionary leader Borya Petrov leads the way, his life entirely dedicated to the cause, with thoughts of nothing else. Until he met Natasha, who rekindled long buried feelings, secrets and desires, Together they embark on the sexual adventure of a lifetime.*

Natasha Sokolova turned and faced the mirror, adjusting her hat. She had chosen her favorite, the one with the red feather. Tonight would be worthy of it. She was to have dinner with Borya Petrov, the outspoken, determined Russian revolutionary exile.

She was originally from Petrograd and had been a regular contributor to his underground newspaper for a couple of years but had never met him in person. Since Borya had been cast out of Russia years ago, party rallies and meetings had to be done underground around Europe and Paris, Natasha’s adopted city, was where they were to finally meet. He had several appointments lined up during his visit and dinner in the lobby of his hotel with Natasha to discuss an editor position for his newspaper was tonight’s plan. She had all sorts of ideas of what sort of man he would be in person as she arranged her stacks of notes on her kitchen table. They had only corresponded on paper and he came across as exacting, articulate and very attuned, if not obsessively so, to detail She had never once seen a photo of him but he was described to her as having a little beard and mustache and being of “middle height.” Just like half the men in Paris, she thought. Well, he should be easy to spot then, she thought with a bit of amused sarcasm.

 Gathering her papers and tucking them into a leather folder, she reflected on what originally appealed to her about his party. One important factor was the willingness to address the dismal state of women in Russia at the time, and the necessity to grant them equal rights, to escape loveless, abusive marriages and pursue a proper education. Natasha was a forward thinking woman who was only too glad to have set up an independent life for herself in both finances and love. This new generation of women believed in free love, the right to choose their lovers and whether or not to even marry. A bourgeoisie domestic life never appealed to Natasha and she wanted none of the emotional fuss and drama that relationships always seemed to dredge up. Natasha was all too happy to write for Borya’s paper and have a voice in the issues that mattered most to her.

Hailing a cab to his hotel she made sure she was in proper order in her red and black dress, her fashionable hat and folder with the correct papers in hand. Just before she entered the glass revolving door to the hotel lobby she dabbed on some of her favorite vanilla perfume.

She walked into the lobby and thru the doors of the restaurant. He had told her specifically where he was going to be seated so she moved forward thru the room of diners expecting to see him at a certain table. There was no man with a little beard and mustache, she thought. She then suddenly stopped, looking around a little lost. He wasn’t where he said he would be.

Had he stood her up?

From nearby she heard a voice call out.

“Miss Sokolova! This way.”

She turned and there she saw him, standing beside a table at the window. Here he was, waving her over, dressed in a simple suit and slightly crumpled coat, with a black cap in his hand. The little ginger beard and mustache was there as expected.  What she didn’t anticipate was how short he actually was, and she noticed he had long ago lost most of his hair. Yet still, there an immediate charisma in his ironic little grin as she came over to shake his hand. His face suddenly contorted into a ridiculous scowl.

“I had to move tables!” he said with his hand shielding his mouth as if it was some dark conspiracy. “That damned cigar smoke was making me sick!”

Natasha burst out laughing and sat down.

“Welcome to Paris!” she said cheerfully.

There was something wonderfully awkward about Borya as he initially fumbled about looking for his reading glasses and making sure she had a menu.  Skillfully entertaining women at the dinner table was not on his list of talents. She found herself giggling at his self effacing muttering as he realized he had left his glasses back up in his room and that he would be lucky if he got any food into his mouth properly that evening.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Petrov, you can borrow mine,” she offered, digging into her pocketbook with a little laugh.

“Please do call me Borya,” he instructed. “And I’m glad at least one of us is amused at my embarrassment.”

Somehow they managed to order their dinner between one pair of glasses and he began to relax once his beer safely arrived. She was already finding him amusing in an endearing way and let him lead the conversation while they waited for their food.

He wasted no time diving into his favorite subject-politics. He talked as he had always written to her, precisely, intensely and persistently. They agreed on many points, and already had a few they did not, and she noticed how he would be insistent with his point, then dismissive if she pressed her disagreement. By the time the food arrived on the table she had likened him to a goat butting at an opponent. She teased him for his stubbornness. He teased her about the red feather in her hat. She called him a billy goat. He complained about his overcooked beef. She offered him some of her chicken. They talked about her art, her writing, and what her job duties would be as editor of his paper.  She mentioned that she had just gotten over a terrible cold. He launched into a medical report in regards to his frequent stress related stomach pains, headaches and skin rashes.

She finished her last bite of food and wiped her hand in her napkin.

“Thank you for saving the skin rash stories for the very end of my meal,” she said with polite sarcasm.

“But you have no idea how difficult it is bashing people’s heads in,” he lamented a bit dramatically.  “It’s the only way we’ll get this all done.”

“Head bashing is mandatory?” she inquired, pushing her plate away.

“You can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.”

“Or heads,” she added, wiping her mouth.


 They were already talking to and teasing one another like old friends. She discovered he saw the world as very black and white. It was to be pounded at, relentlessly, until it gave. He found her filled with the open-mindedness of an artist who was far more willing to absorb other points of view. As they talked her brown eyes would blaze with excitement when she energetically expanded on a concept she felt passionately about.  They really began to connect when Borya found himself eagerly leaning forward in his chair to fully engage in her ideas and really enjoying the company of this intelligent, articulate woman in person after at least two years of reading and publishing her work.

That was what life was like for Borya, nothing but work. He had abandoned all of his pleasures to focus on nothing but the coming revolution. He no longer played chess or went for hikes in the mountains, and he couldn’t bear to listen to his favorite music for fear it would make him “go soft, and want to stroke people’s heads and say stupid things”- a comment which made Natasha again burst out in laughter. When he frowned at her, she informed him that she was adept at both art and music and could play the piano quite well, for his information. And it didn’t make her prone to saying stupid things, just so he knew.

Now it was his turn to laugh. 

“I’m going to accept that challenge, Miss Sokolova. When we’re at the nearest piano keys, I shall test your I.Q.”

It had been a very long time since he had been in the company of such an attractive and interesting woman. As they spoke, he looked at her lovely auburn hair which was done up neatly under her hat he actually did like very much, despite his teasing. He admired her smooth milky white skin and generous cleavage, which any man could not help but notice. As they talked, he casually, or at least tried to in all his awkwardness, steal glances at her breasts as they spoke. These days he was in a passionless but enduring marriage and it had been a very long time since he had indulged in anything intimate, discarding that thought to the pile of other sacrifices he had made for the sake of the cause. But tonight, while talking and laughing and debating…and glancing….he was starting to feel something deep inside, something he thought long since dead, awakening.

For each push he gave, she pushed right back. For each of his mocking barbs, she threw one right back. They finished each other’s sentences. They exchanged playful scowls and he would listen to her melodious laughter.

It was thrilling.

What a strange and wonderful night, he thought. She seemed like some completely unexpected gift, some anomaly, a sudden bright splash of color in the endless grey of struggle.

 After their dinner plates were cleared they looked at the dessert menu. He insisted on treating her to a crème brulee. Although neither knew it that night, this was to become their special shared pleasure once they were together, the quest for a great dessert to share on those romantic nights to come in Moscow. Without realizing it, they were already beginning to form a foundation.

 Over dessert Natasha suddenly remembered that she had brought her article outlines with her. She pulled out the folder.

“I almost forgot I brought my ideas with me, if you want to go over them.”

He took the folder.

“Not here. I’ll take them back to my room, and we can discuss them after the party meeting tomorrow. You are making a speech, correct?

“I’ve rehearsed it about a thousand times,” she said.

He reached for his pocket watch and popped open the lid, looked at the time then sighed.

“Speaking of the time, I am afraid, my dear, that I have a number of notes to go over and a stack of paperwork to tackle this evening. I have an early morning meeting so I’ll have to call it a night as much as I regret to.” He closed the watch and motioned for the check.

Natasha was hoping for a bit more time with him but knew he was extremely busy, and accepted his fairly early departure as an inevitability.

“I can help out with the check,” she said, reaching for her pocketbook.

“Absolutely not. This is my treat,” he insisted.

She politely thanked him as they got up from the table. As they walked thru the lobby he stopped at the front desk and requested a cab for her. When he turned to tell her he had arranged for her transportation he found her standing by the hotel lobby piano. He walked over to join her.

With a twinkle in her eye she said “Let me play something for you…perhaps it will cause you to want to stroke someone’s head,” she laughed.

He rolled his eyes at her sarcasm.

“Oh Natasha, I feel your intellect has already been affected.”

She set her things down, then sat down on the bench and lifted the lid from the keys. She lifted herself with her back erect and her fingertips poised, then she began to play.

He could not believe at first what he was hearing. It just could not be true.

From her skilled fingers came Beethoven’s Appassionata. Standing transfixed, it was as if time had stood still. This was it. This was his most beloved piece of music, the sound that could bring him to tears, the sound that stirred his emotions so much that he wanted to bury it, never hear it again…how did she know?

How did she know?

He listened as if in a trance. He was no longer standing in a Paris hotel lobby with this beautiful woman playing his song. He was being carried away out into the world he would one day transform, becoming bigger and bigger until he had conquered everything. Then slowly, the music gradually led him back inside himself again, deep, deep inside, where there was a great hurt and pain as the sound wrapped itself around his heart and broke open every emotion.

Once finished, she stopped and placed the cover back over the keys. From behind her, she heard nothing. She turned to look at Borya who stood motionless, as if in some far off place

“Are you….feeling well?” she asked. He said nothing. She saw tears in his eyes.

Finally, he sighed and spoke.

“Beautiful,” he said “ What astonishing, superhuman music. It always makes me proud, perhaps with a childish naiveté, to think that people can work such miracles.”

There may be hope for him yet, Natasha thought.

They walked outside together and he waited with her for the cab. It was then that he again noticed a sweet scent lingering in the air he had noticed earlier.

“What is that lovely smell, like a warm pastry?”

“I think it might be me,” she replied, and lifted her wrist to his nose so he could sample her vanilla perfume.

“Ah! You smell like a sweet little cupcake!”

“Mmm…you mean good enough to eat?” she said, smiling flirtatiously.

God, this woman!! She was nothing but fantastic trouble. What a foolish and dutiful husband he was, not taking her up to his room that instant and showing her a proper eating, proper lovemaking.  She would go with him, he knew it, and enjoy herself completely. How his heart started to pound in those precious few moments he could have taken advantage of his position and enjoyed the pleasures he had long denied himself.

“Ms. Sokolova, mind your manners,” he said, managing to level his head. “Is that any way for my new editor to behave?”

Natasha leaned over to him and whispered devilishly into his ear.

“That is how a woman who is very impressed behaves.”

Her warm breath in his ear nearly made him swoon. He felt the stirrings of an erection, his cock knowing this was opportunity, right here and right now. The joys of passion could all be theirs instead of another night of tedious paperwork. In front of her he stood tongue tied between two worlds, one of duty and one of need.

The cab engine broke him out of his thoughts as it pulled up alongside the curb next to them. Glad to have something suddenly to do, he reached to open the door for her.

Natasha turned to him and held her hand out.

“I cannot thank you enough, Borya, for a wonderful evening and for the editor position. I’ll see you tomorrow evening. I am looking forward to it.”

“As am I,” he replied, taking her hand with a firm shake. He lifted it up to his lips to give it a kiss. Then, closing his eyes, he took her hand and pressed it against his mouth and cheek, nuzzling against it, depositing little kisses onto her fingers. Natasha felt an immediate and wonderful tingle run thru her body. She had been curious what was going thru his mind. This act of affection spoke of what he dare not say to her tonight.

He released her hand before he was unable to let it go.

“Now into the cab with you,” he said, collecting himself. “You know they are charging me for every second!”

"Excuse me?” she said. “This isn’t your expense.”

“It is taken care of, little cupcake. Have a safe trip home.”

Borya gave the driver some money and closed the door. She gave him a wave, then the cab drove off and she was gone.

Suddenly he realized he was standing there like an idiot with an erection in his pants. Pulling his overcoat closed, he quickly returned inside the hotel.


Borya entered his room then shut and locked the door behind him. He took off his coat and sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the folder she had given him. He ran his hands across it, then dropped it on top of his stack of papers then rubbed his temples as he tried to relax and come down a bit from all of the excitement. Thinking about her leaving in that cab, he cursed the fact that he had become so good at denying himself anything that would make him feel remotely human.

What an utter and complete fool he was, he thought. Here he was, alone in his boring room with a pile of papers he claimed to be so desperate to get back to, when he could have brought her up here with him and could be undressing her at this very moment. Button by button, undoing the front of her dress, kissing her neck…yes…how nice that would be…to discover what sort of pretty bra was holding those delicious breasts up. He imagined himself reaching around and unhooking it, and she would sigh as it slipped off, allowing her breasts to drop and hang nude in front of him, ready for his eager mouth to ravish them. God! His cock was throbbing as he tortured himself with this scenario. It had been quite some time since he had allowed himself a complete indulgence in his secret fetish, but Natasha had triggered something deep inside of him...his appetite for beautiful full breasts and his desire to suck and nurse on them

Standing up, he unbuttoned his jacket and removed it. There was no sense putting this off. He removed his pants and underwear, then his waistcoat, shirt and tie. These were the only good clothes he had brought with him, and he didn’t want them getting soiled with what he had to do before he got to work that evening. He laid them over the top of a nearby chair and out of the line of fire. He then turned the light off and lay down on the bed nude, on his back.

He took his erection in his hand and began to stroke, relishing the new fantasies he now had to enjoy. He returned to the thought of her nude breasts. He imagined kissing her deeply and massaging her breasts and feeling their soft, feminine ripeness. His stroking increased in pace as he started to moan softly. He had to get his mouth on those nipples, latch on and begin stimulating them. It was a deeply ingrained need, his oral fixation, to have nice big nipples in his mouth he could tug and lick and suck. He then started to imagine her riding him as he lay on his back. She would be bouncing on his cock, and from below he would look up and watch her breasts bounce and swing above him. Mmmmmm, that would be wonderful…and he knew she would love to be watched. She’s a woman who would proudly show off her body, he thought. His cock throbbed as he tugged and milked. Turning his head to the side he starting to pant as he could feel her pussy pulling and squeezing his cock. He let himself be a slave to it, helpless as her sweet pussy relentlessly tugged up and down on him. His hips started to thrust as he rapidly milked, as if meeting her stroke for stroke. He was panting quickly now, eyes shut, grunting as he let this beautiful woman take him, have her way with him, fuck him, drain him completely.

“Natasha, yes..yes…Mmmm!!! Ooohhh!!!

He threw his head back and cried out. His cock spasmed with tremendous contractions, the pleasure pulsating thru his body as he was held captive, his cock squirting again and again, working hard to release his milk. Thick ropes of cream landed on his chest and stomach as he trembled and shook. His eyes stared out into that pleasure space where he was held prisoner as he moaned again and again, gradually quieting as he at last began to ease out of the overwhelming tide of sexual and emotional release.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Borya shot straight up and called out.

“Who is it?”

“I have the tea you requested, sir,” the bellboy said from behind the door.

“Oh, yes, yes…one moment,” Borya muttered, struggling to reassemble himself as best as he could. He fished in his coat for a tip and opened the door. He took the tray and gave the man his tip, who in turn flashed Borya a small, wry smile and glanced into the room, then quickly turned to leave.

Obviously he was trying to see if there was a woman in the room. Dear God, he must have heard what Borya’s loud cries. He shook his head and rolled his eyes. Enough now, he thought. He poured himself a cup of tea and pulled out his papers. He curled himself over the desk and leaning his head on his hand, dove into his work.

Still, as much as he tried, it was hard to get that exciting woman out of his mind. He had no idea, back then, how much a part of his life and soul she was destined to become.


The cellar was noisy and full of smoke. Natasha wound her way down several flights of stairs and entered a busy room buzzing with activity. She eventually found Borya inside a large group of eager recruits and said a quick hello. Happy to see her, he gave her a quick kiss before excusing himself to meet with party representatives before it was his turn to speak.

“I will find you when we’ve wrapped up,” he promised.

The evening began. Speeches were given to eager students keen to support revolution in all of Europe. Natasha brought copies of her articles translated into French, as well as copies of the newspaper. New propaganda was distributed. Natasha met fellow female revolutionary Alexandra Konin for the first time that evening. A fellow Russian, she had made the journey from Moscow to speak this evening as well. Both women got up and made impassioned speeches promoting the equality of women, the promotion of literacy and support for female workers. They received much applause, and Natasha saw Borya, standing up against the back wall, looking very pleased with her, applauding along with everyone else.

The final speaker was Borya, who took command of the cellar when he started his speech. Natasha had never seen him speak in person before. The room was lit with a single bulb under which he stood. He spoke of a new world that would wipe out the old, a revolution that would ignite the world and crush the slavery that capitalism imposed. As he spoke his huge shadow stretched along the wall, making his figure dominate the room as he agitated the crowd more and more until they filled the cellar with shouts and applause. His shadow looked ten feet tall as it stood against the white brick wall, the silhouettes of comrade’s arms waving and fists pumping from all sides. When he finished and he stood there with the rousing applause and voices thundering in victory. After a moment he gave a nod, then lowered his head and walked back into the crowd. The room was full of energy and excitement as everyone began to push around to speak with him.

Natasha watched the activity at a distance wondering how she would be able to speak with him again. Truth be told, after several hours in the cramped cellar she was a little worn out from all of the noise and excitement, not to mention the thick cigarette smoke. She felt like retreating outside for some cool, clean night air.

Just then, Alexandra, with her notes clasped in her glove-clad hands, came up to Natasha.

“You did very well, Natasha. Excellent speech. I could see Borya was very pleased with you.”

Natasha thanked her, but pleaded beginners luck.

“He likes you, you know,” she said, going on about Borya.

“Does he?” Natasha said, playing along with her.

Alexandra gave Natasha a sly little grin, then lowered her voice.

“Ahhhh yes, I could see him devouring you with his eyes like a hot blooded Asian,” she said with deliberate provocation.

“A hot blooded what?”

Alexandra laughed. “He’s half Mongolian, Natasha. That’s what I meant. In any event, he went on about you for quite some time earlier. He seems very taken.”

Alexandra then leaned over and her voice became a little more serious.

“Just be careful you keep your eyes open wider than your heart,” she said. “Goodnight, Natasha, and again, good job.”

Alexandra had just walked off when this time a familiar voice began speaking to her. She turned to see Borya moving thru the crowd, approaching her.

“I hope she isn’t filling your head with terrible stories about me,” Borya teased.

“Oh Borya, were brilliant,” Natasha replied.

They spoke for a few moments more. This was the last night for him in the city before he returned to Zurich. There was that lingering tension as they both realized this, yet neither spoke up. Natasha had made it very clear the previous evening how she felt about him, but she understood he had more to lose taking chances than she did.

Finally, Natasha felt it was time to wrap things up, if this indeed was the end of their interactions this evening. She gathered up her papers and purse and looked him in the eyes with a warm smile.

“We will meet again soon, Borya, I know it. You still have my notes, at any rate...that’s one excuse…”

He could not lose her again. Perhaps made brave by all the applause and success of the event, Borya took her hand in his and spoke.

“Natasha, I want to spend a little time with you before I depart Would it be possible for me to call on you a bit later this evening? I’ll find some food and bring it to you, it’s the least I can do, feed you.”

She was a little surprised at his bold, straightforward request. She had about given up on him. Quickly she found a pencil and wrote down the address of her apartment not too far away.

“I’ll try to be there as soon as possible,” he said. “I just need to attend to things here for a while, you understand? Please wait up for me.”

She nodded and gave him a kiss goodbye on the cheek

Watching her ascend the stairs, Borya felt the excitement and pride of yet another victory on hand.


It ended up taking several hours until he arrived, much longer than she had expected. She had bathed and changed and lit her comforting candles that lined the living room windowsills. The apartment was rustic but clean and cozy, with lots of art books and supplies stacked up on the bookcases. On the table she had spread out some of the party propaganda material and looked it over. She sighed. There was still so much work left to be done.

At last she heard a knock on the door. When she opened it, there stood Borya, a bag in hand, looking about as grumpy as could be. He stood, unmoving.

“Ah, you are here at everything fine?” she asked, relieved he had finally shown up.

Borya huffed, shaking his head. He began to gesture as he stepped thru the doorway.

“Oh, the real fun started right after you left. That’s why I am late. Some idiot wanted to get into it with me.”

“What? I thought everyone there was in support of the party.”

“We all want the same thing, Natasha. The problem is, we don’t...well, never, usually, agree on how to go about it. It ends up an exhausting exercise in trying to beat sense into their heads.”

She could see he was ruffled and on edge. Taking the bag of food out of his hands, she walked over to the table and set it down, then turned off one of the lamps, making it darker and more relaxing.

“Well, you’re here safe with me now. My apartment is free of idiots. Sit down on the couch, and I’ll get you some tea.”

Borya sat down, rubbing his head and grumbling. Natasha moved about quietly, hoping the evening would not be spoiled by all the stress. In a moment she joined him on the couch, handing him a cup of hot black tea.

“Drink,” she said.

He took it and sipped. Finally, with a great sigh, he leaned back onto the couch, at last allowing himself to relax.

“It got me so wound up, Natasha. I’m sorry…I get very exasperated sometimes it is difficult to come down. I also must apologize for stinking of cigarette smoke.”

She leaned over and set her cup down.

“Come here,” she said, patting the couch next to her. Looking over at her, he felt some of his aggravation starting to subside.

He gave a sigh and slid over closer to her.

“Have some sympathy for your poor, overworked revolutionary,” he said.

“Oh but I do, sir. Especially one who smells like an ashtray,” she replied, pretending to cough into her hand.

He gave her a disapproving pout. She smiled mischievously but she did feel sympathy for him. He genuinely looked exhausted.

“Let’s try to get you more comfortable,” she suggested. “First let’s take this off.”

She gently pulled at his rumpled black overcoat. He set down his cup and allowed her to help him off with it and watched as she folded it up and set it on a nearby chair. She then plucked his cap off his head and set it on top of the coat.

She sat back down next to him and they looked at one another His dark brown eyes had softened a bit, filled now with nervous anticipation. He was not used to a beautiful woman like her being so close to him, so intent on him. She reached over and began to lightly stroke his face with her fingers, which made him sigh. He leaned over and started to gently nuzzle his nose into her neck, inhaling her soft, sweet scent. The first stirrings of arousal intermingled with great contentment.

“Oh Natasha, this feels so very good,” he said breathlessly. It felt so wrong and so right at the same time. Yes, he was married and wanted to be faithful...but his needs had been unmet for so long...and Natasha was just so….so….he could not even create the thought for how she made him feel.

She continued to gently caress his face. Her soft strokes continued to stimulate and arouse him, as she traced slow circles across his temple and down his cheek.

“Mmmmm….you naughty girl.” he said. “You are making it difficult for me to relax, you know that?”

“Oh, am I?” she asked innocently with a smile. “I’m sorry…I suppose I could stop…” She started to pull her hand away but he quickly scooped it up in his.

With half closed eyes he leaned in close to her and got up the courage to whisper into her ear.

“Let me kiss you, Natasha, please...maybe it’s wrong…I don’t know….but I must….” 

He started to nuzzle her softly with his nose and mouth, until he parted his lips and began kissing her. She responded back as they both tingled with a great passion and desire, their bodies responding in pleasurable unison, their breath coming in soft moans and sighs.

The Iskra-the spark, was ignited.

Reveling in the bliss as their mouths teased and tasted, Borya managed to pull away, catching his breath.

“I want this so badly, Natasha. But an extra marital affair…it concerns me. I find the “free love” concept that both you and Alexandra promote distasteful and excessive. Affairs are not a substitute for…”

“Which is more distasteful then?’ she asked, interrupting him before he got too far. “Loveless kisses in a marriage, or passionate kisses in an affair?”

“Neither are acceptable,” he grumbled.

Natasha wanted to tease him, but she stopped short. At least he had some consideration for what was happening.

“Then I propose this…” she said. Then she leaned over and caught up his mouth in hers, and began to kiss him again. She held his chin in her hand, so that he was unable to pull away. For a moment he tried to resist, then he surrendered as her tongue started to ease its way deep into his mouth. The provocative French kiss made him tingle all over and his cock throb. His concerns fell to the wayside as he lost himself in her bold, wonderful penetration of his mouth. He met her kiss for kiss, letting go all of his inhibitions and protests.

She at last released her lips from his and finished her proposal.

“We will have an affair,” she whispered, “with passionate kisses that are full of love.”

“Do we love one another?” he asked.

“I don’t know. But we do not feel like strangers, do we?” she asked. “It is as if we have known one another for a very long time.”

Needing her more than anything at that moment, Borya moaned and returned to kissing her. Every bit of his body, mind and soul needed this woman. He kissed her again and again, feeling like he was about to fall very willingly off a very steep cliff.

He leaned down and began to kiss her neck, one little kiss after another. He watched her to be sure she was receptive to his sensuous exploring. Natasha enjoyed each of his soft, light kisses, sighing gently to let him know she approved of his seduction.

With her eyes closed, she laid her head back and enjoyed his gentle, persistent kisses down her neck and shoulders, until she could feel his warm breath hovering over her cleavage. She heard him moan quietly and then placed several soft kisses deep in the crevice of her breasts. It made him dizzy with desire, feeling that impossibly smooth skin on his lips, the big round softness compelling him to press on in his quest. He could not believe his insanely good luck, to have this woman...this beauty, this fire and energy, walk into his life after years of steadfast personal neglect.

Borya kissed her cleavage once more, then got down on his knees in front of her. She opened her eyes to look at him, kneeling on the floor, his face just under her breasts. The look in his eyes was in complete contrast to the headstrong, impenetrable man she had had dinner with the night before. He was completely surrendered under the hypnotic power of her soft, milky breasts. He looked longingly at them, then took a finger and gave a few gentle tugs on the front of her dress, looking up at her with the eyes of a little boy begging for something sweet. In that moment, for the first time in a very long time, he allowed himself to be completely honest and open about what he wanted. At long last he would indulge in his private fantasy, and that evening would find him revealing to her not just his sexual desires but his secret inner soul.

Natasha tingled all over as he gazed up at her. In that moment she respected him, almost admired him, for being so vulnerable with her when they had been trading so many sarcastic remarks from behind their own emotional walls. She began to stroke his head gently, acknowledging him and letting him know wordlessly he was free to proceed.

Sensing her approval, he began to work the buttons on her dress, opening them one by one. He peeled back each side of the dress, revealing more cleavage, nestled in her bra. Closing his eyes he leaned in, kissing it again and again. Becoming bolder and more excited, he nuzzled his face down between her breasts, his tongue reaching deep between her beautiful twin queens, wanting to lick, suck and devour them.

Wanting to make it easier for him to explore, she reached and pulled her arms thru her dress sleeves, pulling the top of her dress down around her waist, so that she sat now in just her lacy black bra. He slowly drew in his breath.

For the first time, his desire for revolution found its equal in his desire for her.

Gazing at her full breasts, he reveled in how her bra almost seemed to strain to contain its wonderful bounty. Her breasts filled out each cup so completely. Reaching up he took each strap of her bra and pulled them slowly down her shoulders and upper arms. More and more of her lovely creamy breasts were being revealed. He slowly tugged the bra cups completely off, falling away to reveal her full ripe breasts capped with their soft nipples, sitting like a dollop of pink cream on the tip of each one.

“Oh my goodness” Borya sighed. “Mmmmmmmm… beautiful…”

He looked longingly at her breasts as they hung in front of him, ready for his attention. His private, life long need to nurse had grown intense fantasizing about her and now was impossible to delay. He needed her soft, bare breasts in his hands and then in his mouth, immediately.

But he restrained himself so that he didn’t appear as greedy as he felt. He took a finger and traced it down around her breasts. Very light tracings that she could feel, but just barely. Each circle he made triggered tingles in her nipples and a lovely fluttering between her legs as her clit responded with pleasurable throbs. Now it was she that was being teased. Each light, slow circle keeping her on edge, enjoying the slow build. His fingers then moved down to lightly dance over her nipples, making them react and harden into firm, erect points. His cock began to throb as he rubbed his thumb over them, relishing their response to his touch.  Ah, how wonderful to feel her reacting to his seducing caresses! He could barely keep his lips from latching firmly onto one of her delicious, tempting nipples and passionately sucking.

He moved his hands to the side of each breast, continuing his exploration with a feeling of excitement and newness he had not felt in years. He began to softly knead and squeeze as he held them in his hands. He began to feel bolder and slid his palms underneath them and bounced them, making them clap together, watching them swing to and fro joyfully. Such an indulgent, exciting thrill! His cock was straining in his trousers at this point. Had he been a young man he would have already been crying out and squirting a thick load but he kept himself in check, not wanting to appear like an oversexed schoolboy.

Natasha, however, enjoyed his enthusiasm. While her breasts always received attention, most men would have eventually been on to other areas of her body. But Borya was down on his knees, fully engaged, fixated on the objects of his worship. He reveled in the fact that he could not get his hands fully around them. Look at how big they were. He was slipping deeper into his fantasy. Mmmmm…what if they were hanging like that, full of milk. Big, milk filled breasts, waiting to nourish him and fill him up. Oh! His cock was leaping and throbbing and he was tingling all over imagining it.

He looked up into her, lost in his erotic trance. This was it. He needed to begin.

“May I feed?” he asked, quietly, his hands cupping each breast.

She understood what he meant, although she was a little amused at his terminology and the fact that he asked first.

She smiled. “Yes, you may.”

With a deep sigh, he leaned in and took a mouthful of breast between his lips, drawing a pert nipple onto his tongue. With deep, steady sucking he got the nipple to plump up even bigger for him, getting larger and firmer, preparing for his feeding. Natasha was completely enjoying this process. She had never been with a man so focused. It was as if time had slowed down and the outside world and its troubles had vanished. Nothing else mattered. He was completely focused on preparing her body for something very special they would share together.

When he saw that her nipple was fully engorged, Borya sighed quietly, then latched on and started suckling. He let out a long moan and a shudder that shook off years of need and denial. He nuzzled in and began to slurp and suck as if making up for lost time. Natasha gazed at this man, this roaring lion, this determined, stubborn revolutionary, on his knees before her, nursing like a baby. Still fully dressed in his shirt and waistcoat, he was almost curled over her lap, as if wanting to block out the world for a while.

Natasha’s creative mind was starting to get some ideas on how to enhance this for him, and make it more comfortable if it was going to be a while. But it would require a little adjustment.

“Get up...” she whispered. “Let me lay back on the couch. I will hold you.”

In a sort of trance, it took Borya a moment to even hear her. He slowly opened his eyes and popped his mouth off her nipple. He complied and stood up. He watched Natasha set up some pillows and unfold a nearby blanket. Borya loosened up his tie and took the opportunity to straighten his erection in his trousers, pulling it upwards as it was currently fully swollen and would be for some time.

Natasha settled back down on the couch and motioned for Borya to join her. She had him lay on his back with his head in her lap and legs outstretched.  With his head nestled in her lap, he quickly turned his attention back to her nipple, settling in again and finding a pleasant, sucking rhythm. Natasha began to join him in a way no other woman ever had. So many years of deprivation…so many needs gone unsatisfied, and now this..he was in heaven!

She began to softly stroke his head, and again run her fingers up and down the side of his face. Her soft caresses felt wonderful. She approved of his sucking, he thought to himself. She enjoyed having him do it, and wanted him to relax as she provided him a peaceful nest to lie quietly in. He knew she was looking down watching him, seeing him nursing blissfully with his nose and mouth buried in her breast. He enjoyed being watched, he wasn’t used to a woman paying this much attention. He wanted her to see what a good boy he was, keeping her nipple firm and providing her with pleasure as he sucked. He then heard her sigh and start to speak.

“Mmmmmmmm..yes, my little boy is doing such a good job..look at how he suckles at Mother’s breast. It makes Mother feel very good.”

Borya moaned, overwhelmed. Yes! Mother! How he needed her to be Mother, and how easily she knew and understood this.

“Oh Natasha…” he said with urgency. “Yes, yes…talk to me, talk to me!”

Natasha wrapped her arms around him, cuddling him closer as he fed.

“Look at how hungry my little boy is. Yes, he needs Mother’s milk. He’ll work hard to get her milk flowing…”

Yes he would, Borya thought. He would make Mother’s breasts feel wonderful and release all of that warm milk for him. He started to get more excited and began to suck more vigorously, accidentally giving her a little bite. He heard Natasha let out a small squeal.

“Naughty boy!” she scolded. “No nipping.”

He moaned an apology, but he was still very excited and her little squeal really turned him on. Natasha, holding his head in her arms, looked over at the front of his trousers. His hips were slowly thrusting up and down, up and down. When his trousers became taut as he lifted up, she could see he had a big erection.

Natasha went back to murmuring to him.

“Look at this naughty boy. So naughty letting himself get so hard and swollen as he suckles.”

Borya groaned. Oh yes, yes, he was so big and hard. He wanted her to see how hard he was. She had no idea how arousing this was, how fulfilling and how needed. He lifted up his hips slightly, showing her the outline of his thick cock.

“Just look at that,“ she continued. “Look at how big he is. What is Mother going to do with her naughty little boy? He’s gotten himself so worked up.”

Borya squirmed as she held him in her arms, his eyes still shut and mouth stuffed. Where had this woman been all of his life?

“I think my little boy needs a good milking,” she went on. “He just can’t lay still...I’ll bet it’s been such a long time since he’s had his balls properly drained.”

She had Borya writhing at that point. She reached over and began to run her hand up and down his thigh, coming close to, but not touching, his penis. He groaned and tried to thrust himself closer to her hand, desperate to feel it envelope his aching cock. After she teased him by stroking his thighs for a few moments and avoiding his cock, she slipped her soft, firm hand over the bulge in his trousers and started to squeeze rhythmically.

His mouth came off her breast and he cried out in pleasure. Her heart leaped, hearing him feel so good. He was so responsive, with such a lively cock and lots of moaning. She kept up her steady rubbing as she felt him throb continually under her hand. His hips followed her lead, matching her caresses with instinctual steady thrusts.

“Mmmmmmm…I can feel my naughty little boy’s cock in his trousers, how it aches and throbs,” she said. “Think of how swollen the head is by now….how thick that shaft must be. Why don’t we take it out so we can play with it?”

Her fingers began to work the buttons of his trousers, undoing them one by one. His hips never stopped moving. His breath came in pants now, his heart beating quickly in anticipation. He had never experienced such a rush as allowing this beautiful woman to guide him thru this experience of sexual reawakening. He felt like he was in school again, hard as a rock, with an eager, demanding cock between his legs, driving him to distraction.

Natasha popped open the last button and gave a tug on the waist of his trousers, indicating for him to pull them out of the way. He took each side of them and pulled them down. After a moment, he slipped his fingers under the waist of his underwear. Natasha watched as they slid down over his groin, his big erection revealed, swollen and bouncing, rooted in a nest of reddish brown pubic hair.

She always found that first revealing moment fascinating. Borya’s cock was wonderfully thick and firm, such a turn on. She imagined taking a hold of it in her hand and guiding it into her pussy, bouncing on it until he was crying with pleasure.

She returned her thoughts to the present, taking her finger and tracing lightly around the head of his penis. Borya’s breath was steady but labored as he felt the delicious agony of her teasing touches She sensuously ran her finger up and down the sensitive underside, just under the head, until he was panting and moaning. The intensity of the way she controlled him with just a soft touch was as exquisite as it was maddening.

Borya spoke, looking up at her, desperate. “Milk me, please…milk me…” he begged.

Natasha gently guided Borya’s mouth back to her breast.

“Back to the nipple,” she coaxed, getting him to latch on again. Once he was reattached, she granted his request and started to pleasure him in earnest. She took her hand, wrapped it around his thick, hard cock and began to stroke. His back arched and he groaned. Ohhh, how good this felt! He wanted to watch her work his cock, but she insisted he stay sucking, he had milk to work for. He intently listened to her whisper naughty things to him.

“Such a big cock…throbbing and aching…needing release. It has to be held tightly and firmly stroked. Mother will drain all of the milk, every drop of it…otherwise her little boy will be frustrated and keep begging…Mmmm...feel how wet it is getting…”

Borya’s cock was lubricating up nicely, leaking down into her fingers, making her firm stroking slicker and faster. His muffled moans increased as waves of pleasure hit him again and again, moving him close to the edge of endurance. Natasha started to sigh, aroused by encouraging this headstrong man to lose control, and how he had begged her to allow him to do so.

“Mother’s milk is starting to flow,” she moaned. “Good boy, making her release her milk.”

Borya joined her in moaning, as his hand started kneading her breast, starting a smooth, milking rhythm. He imagined her breast to be filled with creamy, warm milk. He would help massage it out of her, gently kneading and working to encourage bursts of milk to fill his hungry mouth. He heard Natasha continuing to moan above him and imagined her feeling delicious sensual pleasure with each milky spray she released. Feeling close to the edge of orgasm, he broke away from feeding to watch her rapidly stroking his cock. Natasha too, watched as she firmly worked his member with a relentless rhythm.

“Give for Mother….that’s a good boy.”

Borya threw his head back, eyes tightly shut, on the edge. She leaned down and kissed him. His lips held hers until he could no longer control himself.

“Natasha…ooh, my darling, I’m going to cum…keep stroking…keep stroking…Ooohhh…..

He panted thru clenched teeth as the intensity reached its peak, and his cock went into glorious, pleasurable spasm. He let out an incredibly intense cry as he began to ejaculate, thick spurts of cream shooting up into the air and onto her breasts and shoulders.  He shook and moaned uncontrollably as his strong release took over his mind and body. She held him tightly in her arms as his cries turned to sharp sobs.

Surprised, Natasha hugged him closer to her and started to gently rock him in her arms. He was still shaking and moaning, tears at the corners of his eyes. The release was so intense he had started to cry. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly as she rocked him, giving him time for the wave of emotions to wash over him as he softly whimpered. After a few moments he started to quiet down and his shaking settled. His breathing became steadier and he let out several long sighs, sedated and safe in her arms. When he at last opened his eyes, Natasha brushed her fingers across his face and started to speak.

“My goodness…you must have been saving up for a month. When was the last time…”

“Last night,” he admitted quickly.

Natasha smiled. “You mean……right after we parted?” She then leaned in closer with a wicked grin.

“Were you thinking of me?”

“Hell yes I was. Damned near woke up the entire hotel when I climaxed.”

They both laughed. She was flattered of course, but also amazed at the size of his creamy load, there was so much of it.

“I do tend to make a big mess, I apologize,” he said. Then he sat up and nuzzled into her neck.

“I want to make love to you properly, Natasha. Don’t send me home until we do. Let me make you feel good. Teach me how to touch you, how to pleasure you as you did for me.”

She kissed him and they got up. After they washed and she had slipped into a dressing gown, they talked and laughed and ate most of the food he had brought. Energy restored, they retreated into her bedroom where she took his clothes off one by one and then let him enjoy removing her clothes until she was fully nude. They made love twice that evening. He was so excited the first time with his cock deep inside of her warm wet pussy that he had ejaculated after only a couple of minutes. She held him as he trembled and shuddered. Embarrassed but lost in the magic of their first night together, he was determined to be sure she was satisfied. He pleasured her orally as she lay on her back with her legs spread wide for him, giving her a wonderful orgasm. Her cries of pleasure filled him with great lust and pride, getting his cock hard for the third time that night. He then again made love to her, more slowly, passionately and fully. He was like a starving man who could not stop filling himself up on her. She had created a safe and accepting place that allowed him to open himself up to her fully.

What they did not fully realize was that his private desires and her attending to them were to create a powerful bond that was to become a cornerstone in their relationship. Many times Borya would become that needy child, and Natasha would learn how to put out the many emotional fires that were yet to burn. With the revolution coming, she was to find her place as many other women would do, working for their rights in a new age and standing alongside their men. Her adventure would begin when she one day received a telegram from Borya exclaiming:

“The people are in full rebellion. The czar has abdicated. The time has come! We are going home, Natasha. Home!”

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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