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Most days, it's a miracle when Lingling can spend any time alone with her wife.
They have been new parents for all of five months, and as wonderful as it's been, Lingling misses the lazy days they used to have—days spent with Orm in bed all day, days spent sitting on the couch and watching movies, days spent going on impromptu picnics and late-night food hunts. So when their daughter actually takes her long-awaited nap tonight, there is nothing else Lingling wants than to hold her wife, watch a bad movie, and relax.
(Except Orm has been on the phone for the last fifteen minutes, and Lingling is forced to sit alone on the couch just listening to Orm rant.)
“—she won't breastfeed! I don't understand it, Gina,” Orm rambles into the phone receiver. “The doctor says she's healthy, and my mom swears she's fine. But she likes formula better. My own flesh and blood! The betrayal.”
Lingling silently watches Orm paces in and out of the room; she opens her mouth to mention their daughter might wake up from the noise, but thinks better of it when she sees the crazed look in Orm’s eyes.
“I'm so sore. I have to pump so often, and even then, she won't drink the milk I pump. This is my fault, isn't it?” Orm continues her rant, voice traveling through the wall when she stalks out. “I was a picky child, and now, I've been cursed with an even pickier one.”
More pacing. Orm re-enters the living room, this time to aggressively lower the volume of the television (which Lingling is watching…or was).
“We probably will switch her to formula full-time, yeah. But my boobs won’t get that memo for a while,” Orm says. “I'm going to have to keep pumping anyway. Fun. This is—uh-huh. Yes. Yes, save yourself, don’t have kids if you can help it.”
At that, Lingling can't help but stifle a laugh into her hand, and Orm whirls around just to throw her a dirty look.
“And Ling is laughing at me. I’m suffering, and here she is, entirely pain-free. Right? Mm. Mm-hmm. Aw, okay…will we see you tomorrow?” Orm turns back to the phone, pouting even when Gina can’t see her. “Have a shot in my honor, okay? So I can live vicariously through you. Ha! Okay. Byeee.”
Lingling reaches ever-so-stealthily for the remote to raise the volume, but Orm turns off the sound entirely.
“So Gina’s coming over tomorrow,” Orm announces. “We should clean a little. But first, I'm going to go pump. Your daughter has me in pain.”
“Can I help you?” The words come out completely by surprise, but Lingling realizes instantly that she wants nothing more than an enthusiastic yes in response.
The question, however, seems to throw Orm for a loop. “Huh?” she walks over to get the remote for herself, but Lingling doesn't let her get that far.
“Can I help…” Lingling slowly reaches out, palm on Orm’s waist, tugging her close. “With your pain.”
Orm is half-hovering over Lingling now, her eyes searching, curious, at the sudden roughness of Lingling’s voice. “I can't take any painkillers.”
“That's not what I meant.” Lingling tilts her head back, waits for Orm to sway a little closer before suggestively adding, “I've heard that an orgasm helps with pain.”
Orm gives her a playful eye roll. “Not this kind of pain,” she complains. “Any other day I would take you up on that, but right now I'm mad at you.”
“At me?”
“Mm-hm. This is your fault,” Orm says accusingly. “You got me pregnant. And now, your child is torturing me.”
Lingling chuckles. “My poor wife,” she murmurs, smoothing her hands over her waist still. “Can I at least try to make you feel better?”
Orm squints at her suspiciously. “How?”
Without another word, Lingling reaches under Orm’s shirt, fingers mapping a path up her stomach to the valley between her breasts. She waits for Orm to say anything, but she doesn't, and so Lingling gently squeezes her right nipple.
Orm gasps. “Don't, sometimes they hurt. I really can't…”
“Take your shirt off,” Lingling cuts her off, and Orm blinks, then obeys slowly.
Orm’s breasts are bigger than they used to be, and absolutely aching to be relieved; they're so hard and sensitive that even just a touch makes her flinch. Lingling guides Orm up until she is sitting on Lingling's lap, now eye-level with her nipples. Lingling doesn't hesitate for a second when she leans in to give one a curious lick.
“Ling. What are you doing?” Orm squeaks, trying to shy away, but Lingling doesn't let her.
Milk is leaking from the nipple already, and Lingling is enthralled, watches it drip down onto her pants as she flicks it lightly with the very tip of her tongue. “I'm helping,” Lingling barely remembers to respond, just before she opens her mouth to fully suck.
Orm’s hand buries in the back of Lingling’s hair at the first pull, and she exhales brokenly with a full-bodied shudder. “Oh.”
The rush of milk into her mouth tastes sweeter than anything Lingling has ever imagined, and her grip tightens onto Orm’s hips, trying hard not to be too rough. She suckles carefully, swallows her in delicately while Orm makes soft, relieved sounds from the back of her throat.
Orm’s hand goes flat fully over the back of Lingling's head, cradling her close. “That feels good,” she breathes.
Lingling digs her fingertips into Orm’s thighs, pushing her a little higher in order to angle her head just right to keep sucking. The warm, milky liquid coats her tongue, and with each deep, greedy pull, Orm begins to squirm.
The first grind down against Lingling’s lap has to be unintentional, because Orm squeaks, pushing herself up on her knees as if trying not to let their bodies touch.
“What's wrong?” Lingling pulls away worriedly, hands flying to Orm’s waist to keep her from falling over. “Am I hurting you?”
“No, it’s just…” Orm swings her legs around awkwardly, perching on Lingling’s knee instead of fully on her lap. “I feel heavy.”
“You’re not.” Lingling pulls her right back, eyes glued to Orm’s breasts. “Trust me, you’re not.”
“I’m…” Orm bites her lip, voice trailing off when Lingling pushes her thighs apart, coaxing her right back onto her lap. Already Lingling’s cock is half-hard, and the pressure of Orm against her makes her sigh.
“I like having you right here,” Lingling murmurs, pressing a kiss to Orm’s collarbone. “Are you uncomfortable?”
“No.” Orm’s hands smooth over the back of Lingling’s neck, nudging her head up. “I just don’t want you to be.”
“Orm. I am right where I want to be,” Lingling assures her, her own hands slipping down to cup Orm’s ass. “Move up a little, baby. I haven't finished helping you yet.”
“Yeah?” Orm’s voice goes breathy. She tilts Lingling’s head back, meeting her eyes firmly. There’s no hesitation now; she pushes her chest forward, teasing, makes Lingling lean in before stopping her with a finger to her lips. “Open up, then.”
Lingling welcomes it when Orm shoves two fingers in her mouth, sucking on the intruding digits while looking up with half-hooded eyes. Orm’s legs clamp around her hips, grinding forward purposefully now, slowly making Lingling grow stiffer. When Orm withdraws her fingers, she uses them to circle the wet spit around her nipples until they're slick and shining in the dim light. Each push against her breasts make them leak more milk, and Lingling gulps.
“Can I?” Lingling asks—begs—and when Orm nods her head, Lingling laves the flat of her tongue against her breast, cleaning the spillage. She teases just a little, flicking at Orm’s nipple with her pointed tongue, tracing around each areola, until Orm starts insistently humping the bulge of her cock through her sweats and Lingling gives in to what she needs.
Her mouth closes carefully over Orm’s right breast, greedily sucking her in, each pull of liquid gold better than the last. The taste of the milk—the warmth of Orm’s pussy through her thin sleep shorts against Lingling’s pulsing dick—the little noises escaping Orm’s mouth—all of it is so good, Lingling might actually bust her load any second now.
Since the baby, they haven’t had a very active sex life at all, and the pent-up energy is far more than either of them can bear. Orm is just as gone as Lingling feels, her head thrown back and eyes squeezed tightly shut, mouth parting to pant:
“Uh…uh…uh…ah. Oh, Ling, like that…”
Lingling switches to the left breast, inhaling deeply through her nose as she keeps sucking continuously. Something about this milk coming from Orm is making her rock-hard, and she would rip Orm’s shorts open right now and fuck into that waiting cunt if it weren’t so irresponsible (at least, without protection).
At the very least, Orm is chasing her pleasure, dragging her pussy back and forth over Lingling’s bulge while holding tightly onto Lingling’s head. She doesn't let her let up, gasping in relief at every swallow. Lingling flicks her tongue, swirls it, goes soft and goes hard; every switch up makes Orm jump, inevitably gets her wetter.
“Suck like that. Ohh.” Orm’s fingers wind so firmly into Lindling’s hair that it stings.
Lingling works faster, hungrily, her jaw aching with the effort. She can’t take her eyes off of Orm, the slope of her neck, the teeth digging into her bottom lip, the flush of pink dusting her cheeks. She is so beautiful it hurts.
Orm’s hips stutter, catching against the ridge of Lingling’s hipbone as she miscalculates her next grind. She stops, gasping, pushing Lingling away with a regretful whimper.
“What’s wrong?” Lingling takes a break to wipe away the spit from her chin, push her sweaty hair away from her face, but the taste of Orm’s milk is still on her tongue and she is desperate for more.
“Nothing. I just want to feel you,” Orm says, and she gets off Lingling’s lap entirely, tugging off her shorts and panties. She's wet, so wet, and Lingling is immediately drawn to the glistening slick on her pussy lips. When Orm climbs back onto Lingling’s lap, her arousal smears darkly against the light gray of Lingling’s sweatpants, leaving a visible spot against her crotch.
“I want to fuck you so bad,” Lingling groans, hands flying back to Orm’s now bare ass, squeezing.
“Focus,” Orm chides her playfully, hand creeping into Lingling’s waistband to fish out her cock. “You said you were going to help me, right?”
“Yeah,” Lingling says, the word escaping in a single, pained breath as she tries very hard not to jump at the sudden touch.
“Then…let me use you,” Orm whispers against Lingling’s mouth, before shifting forward and pressing her warm cunt against Lingling’s exposed length.
Lingling jolts, feels the wetness of Orm’s arousal against her cock like electricity through her veins. “Shit.”
Orm twists slightly, upper body arching and her hand cupping the back of Lingling’s head again. “Open,” she orders again, and pushes her left breast against the seam of Lingling’s closed mouth. The nipple pokes against Lingling’s lip, milk dripping with each drag.
With a groan, Lingling does, lets Orm shove her breast inside. She sucks obediently, drinking in each mouthful without a care how loud (or how greedy) she’s being. Orm grinds against Lingling’s dick slowly, rocking forward and still shamelessly pressing into Lingling’s face. Each slide of their joined slick is more exquisite than the last, and Orm whimpers as the ridge of Lingling’s cock slips against her clit.
Lingling breaks away, breathless, and drops her forehead against Orm’s collarbone. “Orm,” she manages weakly, “I have to get a condom.”
“No, just…don’t go inside,” Orm says, as if the very thought isn't torture of the highest degree. “Stay right here.” She rocks her hips down faster, undulating forcefully, and Lingling throws her head back and doesn't fight it.
“You’re so sexy,” Lingling exhales instead, palming Orm’s ass, her own hips jerking up as Orm grinds down; soon enough Orm’s movements become frantic, frenzied, and she chases the sensation of Lingling’s length sliding along her folds and bumping her clit with every bounce on her lap.
“I think I’m going to come like this,” Orm gasps, and Lingling has to stifle a groan.
“Yeah? You’re that sensitive?”
“Mm-hmm,” Orm whines, still humping Lingling’s cock continuously, sound of slapping skin echoing throughout the room.
Lingling snakes a hand over the back of Orm’s neck, brings her down to kiss her, lets her taste the milk and sweat and desperation. Orm bites Lingling’s lip, gentle, like a tease; Lingling rewards her with a sudden thrust upwards to make Orm melt.
Their breasts brush against each other—residual soreness making Orm falter—and Lingling picks up where she can’t, pumping up against the warm, slick folds with renewed vigor. Each pass against the pearl of Orm’s clit makes Orm twitch, and when Lingling's cock bumps against her entrance, Orm seemingly can’t take any more.
She shifts, waits for the head to catch against her weeping cunt, and sinks. It takes a bit to adjust, taking in every inch with an audible hitch of breath, and Lingling groans from the center of her chest.
“Shit, Orm,” Lingling barely manages to get out. “I thought—”
“I know,” Orm says, the true picture of bliss: teeth sinking into her bottom lip, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back. “But you feel so good.”
Lingling tilts back fully against the couch, lets Orm squirm and rock down at her own pace, fighting the urge to fuck up into her. “You’re so tight,” Lingling says, and Orm exhales shakily as she bottoms out.
“It's been a while.” Orm begins to ride her slowly, hips shaking with each rise and fall, and Lingling doesn't budge—lets Orm fuck herself on her cock, lets her use the length like her own personal dildo.
It doesn't take much to get close again, evidently; Orm quickens her pace, riding faster, and Lingling finally starts to thrust up to meet her halfway. The room is so hot, and sweat beads on her temple, but Lingling doesn't even bother wiping it away.
Orm is trembling above her, trying not to make much noise, but when Lingling hits upwards, deep, she moans. It's like a switch flips, and Lingling gives it to her hard, hips pounding up while Orm grinds down helplessly, sound of their come squelching and Orm’s moaning louder and louder.
They're definitely going to wake up the baby, but right now, neither of them cares. Not when Orm is coming, clenching tight around Lingling’s length, whimpering against her hair and riding her through it. And feeling Orm come brings Lingling right over the edge—she explodes, feels her cock jerk as her cum fills Orm up.
“I missed you coming inside,” Orm says, shamelessly squeezing her legs around Lingling’s hips, as if trying to keep her seed inside. “But I definitely am going to need a morning after pill.”
“Then I guess I’d better make the most of it,” Lingling says, “and come in you all night.”
Orm huffs, gives her shoulder a little pinch. “You forget your daughter doesn't sleep at night.”
“Ow, why is she only my daughter when you’re mad?” Lingling feigns pain. “I wonder who she gets it from, ha. Only one of us doesn't sleep till super late.”
Another pinch. “Hey. What happened to the first rule of marriage, hm? I'm always right.”
“I don’t remember that from your vows.” But Lingling is unable to tease her beautiful wife so much, and she presses a firm kiss to her cheek when Orm gives her a death stare. “Okay okay. My daughter is a troublemaker, and you are the light of the household.”
Orm clicks her tongue. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re just trying to get laid again.”
“Is it working?” Lingling grins up at her, and Orm leans in to kiss her mouth instead of replying. But before they can get back in the groove, a sudden cry from the baby monitor instantly kills the idea.
“Noo,” Orm whines. “She just went down.”
“I’ll take care of her,” Lingling offers, gently slipping out of Orm and helping her up. “You go clean up.”
“Thank you, my love.” Orm grips onto Lingling's hand to keep her balance. “And afterwards, make sure you clean this couch.”
“You got it, boss,” Lingling says, and Orm swats her stomach playfully to urge her out. “But about the getting laid again…”
“Go,” Orm tells her laughingly, and Lingling steals one more kiss before she obliges.
(Though she definitely is going to try her luck again later).