Little Brats: Ursula: Taboo Forbidden Erotica by Selena Kitt

 
    “It’s weird not being with the baby.”  Jill winced as she stretched out on the king-sized bed she usually shared with her husband.  There was a cradle set up beside the bed.
     
    “I bet.”  Ursula flipped another page in Mothering magazine, reading an article on GMOs as her friend settled beside her.  “You’re gonna need to pump.” 
     
    “Are you ever off duty?” Jill snorted a laugh. 
     
    “Nope.”  Ursula gave a little laugh.  “I’m a lactation consultant and I’m with a new Mommy—even if you’re not technically a client.  Besides, boobs and babies are my thing.” 
     
    Jill laughed out loud at that.  “Someday, Urs.  You’ll have one.” 
     
    “Well…” Ursula shrugged.  “Have to have a donor first.” 
     
    “Or a husband.” 
     
    “Or at least a boyfriend.”  Ursula glanced at Jill as she pressed her palms to the tops of her breasts.  They filled out her t-shirt like ripe melons.  Her hair is still wet from the shower, making wet spots.  Or maybe that’s her milk leaking? “Hurting?”
     
    “Yeah.”  Jill shifted, looking uncomfortable.  “But I have to confess, I hate that damned pump.” 
     
    As if to prove this, Jill glared at the contraption sitting out on her dresser. 
     
    “Nowhere near as efficient as a newborn,” Ursula agreed, flipping another page.  She wasn’t really reading now, just flipping.  “So Joe’s taking baby Mikey to visit grandma?”
     
    “That woman hates me.”  Jill groaned, laying back and throwing an arm over her eyes.  “And she thinks breastfeeding is medieval.  Like, she was actually shocked that my two month old was still breastfeeding.” 
     
    “Are you kidding me?”
     
    “Girl Scout’s honor.”  Jill went up to her elbow, holding up three fingers. 
     
    “That’s Boy Scout’s honor,” Ursula corrected with a laugh.  “And you were never a Girl Scout.” 
     
    “True.”  Jill laughed.  “I was never good enough to be a Girl Scout.” 
     
    “Yeah, we were bad girls.”  Ursula grinned back.  “Until you become an old married lady with a baby.” 
     
    “Tell me about it.”  Jill snorted.  “Now it’s all poopy diapers and pacifiers.” 
     
    “You aren’t giving him a pacifier, are you?” Ursula raised her eyebrows.  “It might make him refuse the breast.” 
     
    “Only when he’s really fussy.”  Jill’s face reddened.  “And trust me, nothing throws that kid off the breast.  I just wish that I could say the same about Mike senior…”
     
    Ursula looked at her friend, speculative.  “Uh oh.  Spill.” 
     
    “Ha.”  Jill pressed a hand to her chest again.  “I just might.” 
     
    “Seriously.”  Ursula leaned in closer, nudging Jill with her knee.  “What’s up?”
     
    “Oh, I don’t know.”  Jill sighed, pressing the tops of her breasts with her fingers and wincing.  Ursula could tell that she was going to have to pump, and soon.  She wondered what it felt like, to have your breasts full up with milk.  She’d been a lactation consultant for two years, an apprentice midwife for three—just a year away from taking her test and getting her certification. 
     
    She’d been helping bring babies into the world and getting them latched onto the breast for years, but she’d never experienced any of it herself.  Jill was the first of their little high school posse—they had two other close friends still in college—who had gotten married and had a baby.  Ursula couldn’t help being curious, considering her interests and her job.  She’d always been fascinated by the process of birth, and by extension, taking care of and feeding a newborn. 
     
    “Come on,” Ursula prompted her softly.  “You’re doing so good.  Mikey’s sleeping four hours a night—that’s a miracle at his age.  He’s healthy, perfect.  Your husband’s a great guy, he’s got a great job, so you get to stay home with the baby.  What else