My Sister's Milk

Written by Baron Darkside

Tim pulled the rental car to the curb in front of his sister's house and parked. Pulling a small duffel bag from the back seat, he started up the walkway to the front porch.

He hadn't seen Cynthia in a little over six months, and the last time he'd seen her, she had looked as though she'd swallowed a basketball. A month later, Cyn had given birth to Lisa, his first niece.

Let's see, he thought, that would make Lisa about five months old, now!

He should have made it back to see his niece earlier, but living on the opposite coast made the trip an expensive one. And he'd used the last of that year's vacation days on his last trip home. Thankfully, the new year had brought a new batch of vacation days, and he'd managed to time this trip to let him kill several birds with one stone: visit with his parents, visit his sister and see his niece for the first time, and also attend his best friend's wedding. A side benefit was that he'd be able to help Cyn paint her husband's den while he was away on a business trip. She was sure that Tom would be surprised by the renovation, when he returned home.

Stepping up to the door, he rang the doorbell and heard Cynthia's voice through the screen door, inviting him to come in.

Pushing the door open, he stepped into the forey.

"Cyn?" he called out.

"I'm here, in the living room," she responded loudly.

"Uh, okay," he said walking toward the sound of her voice.

Stepping into the living room, he stopped dead in his tracks, staring at his sister sitting on the couch. Sitting on the couch...nursing Lisa. With her blouse completely unbuttoned and both of her huge breasts bared.

Tim's eyes flared open and his chin dropped as he stared at his sister. She had Lisa's mouth pressed against one of her big, beautiful breasts as she sat lovingly looking down at her baby. Little Lisa was holding onto the huge, milk-filled udder with her tiny hands, hungrily sucking away at the nipple as Tim looked on in fascination.

Then, Cynthia looked up and saw him staring at her with a shocked look on his face.

"Oops...sorry...I forgot," she laughed, draping her shirt over her breasts, covering one and partially covering the other, from Tim's peering stare.

"Uh...uh...that's...that's okay," he said, trying to swallow the bale of cotton that had mysteriously appeared in his mouth as he tried to calm the stirring he felt down in his jeans. "I...I just wasn't expecting that. They...They're so big.

"Yeah, that's what happens when you've got a kid to feed," she smiled up at him.

"Really big," he muttered.

"I've got everything set up in the den, if you want to go ahead and start. Let me just finish nursing Lisa, and I'll be in to help you in a few minutes."

"Okay," he said, taking another quick glance at her partially exposed breast as he set his overnighter on the coffee table.

He couldn't believe how big her tits were. The only time he had seen them before was when they were kids. They were tiny, back then.

"Uh, the den," he nodded, finally tearing his eyes away from his sister's breast as he saw a slight blush color her cheeks.

"Sorry," he apologized, blushing himself as he turned and started for the den.

"That's okay," she called after him, "It's my fault, really. I should have nursed her earlier."

Tim had arrived in his painting clothes, so he had finished one wall and was starting on a second before Cynthia came strolling into the room. He looked away from his task to see that she was wearing only an old paint-splattered shirt and panties. The hem of the shirt hung down in the front and back, obscuring most of the view, but the shirt arched up in a curve on the sides, revealing the waistband of her panties where it crossed her rounded hips. The shirt was also thin enough for him to note that she wasn't wearing a bra. Even if the pendulous swing of her breasts wasn't noticeable - which it definitely was - her nipples, still erect from the stimulus of nursing, were poking blatantly against the worn fabric.

"Sorry, I took so long, but I wanted to put Lisa to bed so we wouldn't be interrupted," she told him. "You can get to know her tomorrow."

"Yeah, that'd be nice," he smiled, glancing down at the exposed cleavage peeking out from between the edges of her shirt and her thrusting breasts. "I got a lot done anyway."

"Yeah, I see. I'll help you do another wall, then I'll start on the trim," she said, ignoring his prying look as she bent down and picked up her roller and paint tray. "I've ordered a pizza delivery, for dinner."

"You sure look nice, Sis," he told her. "You look a lot different than you did the last time I saw you."

"A half-hour on the treadmill, every day," she said, feigning wiping sweat from her forehead. "It'll keep you fit and trim."

"Well, I must admit, it seems to be working," he smiled.

"Why, thank you," she laughed softly, noting the slight blush coloring her cheeks.

Watching his sister move about with her giant, milk-laden breasts undulating heavily under the shirt soon had Tim in a highly obvious state of arousal. He tried his best to keep it hidden by facing away from her while he painted.

Two hours of steady work had the walls and trim covered in new paint. The pizza arrived and they devoured it quickly. Their intended return to painting was delayed, however, when Lisa awoke from her nap and announced - with a loud wail - that she needed some attention.

Motioning for Tim to follow her, Cynthia led the way to the nursery. Lifting her infant daughter from the crib, she placed her in her uncle's unsure arms.

"Relax, honey," she giggled when Tim looked up at her with somewhat terrified eyes. "You can do it; it's instinctive. And it'll be good practice, for when you finally have a wife and baby of your own!"

"Oh - you mean this look on my face?" Tim shook his head. "It isn't fear. It's more like lack of knowing what to do. I can smell it, even if you can't. I think she needs a change of diapers."

"Then we'll give you a bit more practice," Cyn laughed. "Put her over there, on the bassinette, and I'll get the baby-wipes."

With Cynthia looking on with an amused grin, Tim followed her instructions and handled the diaper-change rather well, all things considered.

Then, of course, he had to endure the sight of her partially-exposed breast, again, as Cynthia nursed Lisa before putting her back to bed for the night.

Shortly, the nursing was finished, and Cynthia buttoned the blouse again, though Tim noticed one less button was fastened than earlier, and they returned to their task of painting. An hour later, they were finally finished and stood looking around at their handiwork.

"Looks great," Cynthia beamed, looking over at him. "We make a great team..."

"Yeah, maybe we ought to set up a business," he laughed. "But first, I think you'd better clean up. You look like you've got green measles."

"Aren't you the pot, to call the kettle black," she laughed back at him, running a fingertip down his paint-splattered cheek.

Impulsively, Tim grabbed her hand and brought her finger to his lips. Holding it gently pressed against them, he gave the tip of her finger a lingering kiss.

Questioningly, she looked into his eyes, her cheeks flushing once again. Then he smiled and let go of her hand.

"Why did you do that?" she asked.

"I don't know," he smiled. "I don't know...it just seemed like the thing to do at the moment. Sorry if it upset you..."

"No, no, it's okay," she said, taking a step back as her big tits swayed ponderously under her shirt. "It just took me by surprise...that's all. It was a sweet thing to do."

"Well, who's first? You or me?" he asked, stepping back over to the paint buckets.

"What do you mean?" she asked, with a puzzled look on her face.

"You or me...the shower?" he said, leaning down and dropping his brush into a bucket of water. ......(cont)

.......Read the entire My Sister's Milk ....written by Baron Darkside.
Copyright © 2007-8 Baron Darkside. ALL Rights Reserved




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This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


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