Milking Kimberly

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Gary hooked his thumb vaguely in the direction of the room that he and Kimberly had converted to a nursery. “Kim’s feeding the li’l one,” he said. “She’ll be out in a few minutes.” He often referred to his new baby as “the li’l one.” In fact her name was Emily, but at six months, I suppose “the li’l one” is as good a tag as any. Then with his other hand he hooked a thumb toward the hallway that lead to his music studio. “Sheila, I wanted to show you the folio of Bach etudes I just got.”

My wife made a little noise of interest and followed Gary down the hall. I stayed behind; unlike Gary and Sheila, classical music isn’t a major interest of mine. I made myself at home in the living room, slumping into the sofa and putting my feet up on the ottoman. Gary and Kimberly are old friends, and we’re pretty casual when we visit each other’s homes. A moment later I heard the sound of Gary’s piano-playing rolling up the hallway; that meant he and my wife would probably be occupied for a while. I was starting to leaf through a magazine when I heard Kimberly call out. “Hey Lyle, c’mon in here and keep me company.”

I got up and went through the connecting door to the nursery. “Hi Kim,” I said. “How’s it go…ing?” My voice got snagged between the “go” and the “ing,” because that’s when the scene in front of me registered on my brain. Kimberly was seated in the big overstuffed chair that dominated the small room. She was holding her baby to her breast, and she was naked from the waist up.

Kimberly is a tall, long-legged redhead. She’s always been something of a workout fiend, and she got her figure back quickly after her pregnancy. She and my wife have been best friends since college, eventually drawing Gary and I into a four-way friendship. I’d always found her attractive, though her full, cupids-bow lips and little turned up nose gave her a “cutesy” look that initially made it hard for me to take her seriously. I’d always thought her to be a quiet woman, modest in both her speech and clothing. And I’d never seen her tits before.

“Things are going just fine, Lyle,” she said. She was drawing the words out, making her voice coy and teasing. “We’re having salad and chicken cutlets tonight–just as soon as Emily here lets go of me.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “How’s Emily doing?” I pretended to be looking at the baby that was latched onto Kimberly’s right breast, though in reality most of my attention was on the unobstructed left tit. Like most redheads, Kim had freckles across her upper chest, fading and growing sparser as they sprinkled downward. The shape of the breast I could see was a study in classical perfection: A generous handful in volume, firmly rounded, convex underneath and a delicate S-curve above, capped with a rosy pink nipple that pointed slightly upward. She’d been pretty skimpily endowed before her pregnancy, but now she was at least a D cup.

“She’s doing great,” Kimberly said, the coy drawl still in her voice. “Sucks like a little vacuum cleaner. Feels really good.” She looked straight into my eyes and grinned, showing her teeth. “Kinda gets me going, if you know what I mean.” Another grin.

Kim was wearing a brightly colored calf-length peasant skirt, and I could see her knees moving underneath the fabric; opening and closing rhythmically, moving just a few inches each way. I think I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Kimberly had never flirted with me before, and now she was sitting in front of me half naked, telling me she was turned on, and possibly masturbating. That sort of thing can make a guy tongue-tied when he’s not expecting it.

“Time to switch sides, sweetheart,” Kim said, and with a smooth move she detached her daughter from her right breast and swung her across to the left. The baby hardly seemed to notice the transition, closing her mouth around the newly-offered nipple without a murmur. I could see her cheek working as she sucked. “Now uncle Lyle can have a good look at both of Mommy’s titties,” Kimberly added.

“I… um… uh…” I said brilliantly.

Kim glanced down at her chest. “You like?”

Instead of more evasive stammering, I decided to be honest. “Yes. They’re beautiful, Kim. Really beautiful.”

“Why thank you, Lyle! It’s so nice to hear someone say that.” Kim’s face lit up with genuine gratitude. “You see,” she looked pointedly in the direction of the closed door, “a certain someone seems to think that being sexy doesn’t go along with being a mother. So he hasn’t exactly been falling all over himself to take care of my womanly needs, if you know what I mean.” She pouted, an expression that looked adorable on her. “But you think I’m sexy, don’t you, Lyle?” She stared blatantly at my crotch, where my hardening cock was beginning to push out the front of my pants.

I regressed into stammering: “I… um… Kim, I…”

“Oh look,” she interrupted, looking down at her breast. “This one’s still leaking.”

I looked. Milk was dripping from her exposed right breast; drop after drop appearing antalya escort and falling down to her stomach and belly.

“Oh, drip, drip, drip,” she said in a voice of mild annoyance, still looking down at herself. She brought her hand up and cupped her breast, pinching the nipple between her first two fingers and shutting off the flow. “Lyle, be a dear and bring me that glass, would you?” She pointed her chin at a drinking glass on the side table against the wall.

I realized then that I hadn’t moved since I’d come into the room and shut the door behind me, and my hand was still gripping the doorknob. I went to the table and fetched the little glass, then held it out to Kimberly. My hand was shaking.

“Hold it here,” she said. “Like this.” She took her hand away from her tit and used it to position my hand, holding the open mouth of the glass an inch or two in front of her nipple. “If I squeeze some out, it should stop dripping.”

Then, before my wide-eyed stare, she started milking herself, squeezing her tit just behind the nipple. Milk squirted out in an array of needle-fine jets that came from various points on her nipple. Again and again she closed her fingers, pressing in on the soft flesh of her breast, sending spray after spray of milk into the glass. A minute or two passed as I stood there, feeling hypnotized, holding the glass in a trembling hand, watching the thin white milk squirt out of her pink nipple.

When she stopped there was about half an inch of milk in the glass. “Thank you, Lyle,” she said. “I think Em’s done feeding; I’m going to put her to bed now.”

As Kim got her daughter settled in the crib, I looked down at the glass in my hand. I could feel the weight of the milk, could feel the warmth of it through the glass; bringing it closer to my face, I could smell it. My mind was reeling with the unreality of the scene I’d just participated in. It seemed both magical and boundlessly sexy; my hardon was pulsing in my pants.

Kim turned and came back to where I was standing, her bare tits jiggling slightly as she walked. She came up to me until she was very close and her nipples were almost touching my chest. “Thank you again, Lyle,” she said, taking the glass from my hand. I was acutely aware of her fingers touching mine as she did so. Raising the glass to her lips, she took a sip from it. “Yum,” she said, grinning, milk still on her lips. Then she pushed the glass back at me. “Here, you finish it. It will make you big and strong.”

Still floating in a hazy fog of unreality, I took the glass and emptied it into my mouth. I held the milk there for a moment before swallowing it. It was sweet, thinner than “regular” milk, and of course warm. The warmth of Kim’s body, I thought. The warmth of her tit.

Kimberly dropped her hand to my crotch, cupping the bulge of my hardon and squeezing. “See? I told you it would make you big and strong.”

“Fuck, Kim…” I said. “What the heck’s gotten into you?” I leaned toward her, trying to increase the pressure of her hand on my cock.

“‘Fuck Kim’,” she quoted. “I like the sound of that. That’s about the best idea I’ve heard in weeks–months, even.”

Just then the sound of Garry’s piano-playing stopped, and both of us looked toward the closed door. “But not tonight,” Kim said. She turned away from me, picked up a bra that was on the floor beside the easy chair and started putting it on. It was a heavy-duty thing with what I assumed was absorbent padding in the cups. “Show’s over for tonight, big guy,” she said as she lifted the shoulder straps into place and covered her tits.

I had a fleeting mental image of grabbing her, ripping her bra off and planting my mouth over one of those incredible, exquisite, pink nipples; sucking on her, filling my mouth with more of that sweet, warm milk. But sanity prevailed and I simply stood, dazed and immobile, as Kimberly slipped on a blouse. We left the nursery, and when my wife and Gary made their appearance a minute later we were sitting at opposite sides of the living room, sipping wine and talking about the weather.

The rest of our evening’s visit was an agony of lust for me; of lust and trying not to lust, of trying to remember my marital vows, of wanting to punch Gary in the nose for not recognizing the fact that motherhood had transformed his wife into a sex goddess. “You seemed distracted tonight,” Sheila said to me on our drive home.

I gave her a sidelong leer and put my hand on her thigh, sliding it up her leg until I ran out of leg. “Only because you’re looking especially sexy tonight,” I said. Happily, Sheila seemed to be feeling pretty frisky herself, and when we got home we spent the next hour or two fucking like bunnies.

* * *

Sheila works at an office, while I do freelance work out of our home. In the early afternoon of the next day, the thing I was simultaneously dreading and hoping for happened: Kimberly rang my doorbell.

“Hello Lyle,” she said. “I was out doing some errands, so I thought I’d stop serik escort by.” She slipped past me, heading toward the living room. “I thought you and I could have a little chat.” She sat on the sofa and patted the cushion beside her. “Come sit here and talk to me, Lyle.”

I sat in the chair opposite the sofa. “Um, Kim, about last night…” I started.

“I pumped out some milk before I left the house so Gary could give Emily her afternoon feeding while I was out,” Kim interrupted. “But wouldn’t you know it, I’m starting to leak anyway.” She began unbuttoning her blouse. “Do you think you could help me out with that, Lyle?”

“Kim,” I said in what I hoped was a firm voice, “we have to stop. We can’t do this.”

She looked at me, all doe-eyed innocence. “Can’t do what, Lyle?” Then her blouse was off and she was standing up, walking toward me, reaching back to the clasp of her bra. “Are you saying you can’t help me?” Her bra dropped to the floor and she was standing in front of me, her impossibly perfect tits at eye level. “My boobs are all swollen with milk, Lyle. They’re so full of milk they hurt.” She leaned over me, putting her left hand on the back of my chair to balance herself. She cupped a breast with her right hand and brought it close to my face. “You can help me with that, can’t you Lyle?”

“K-Kim, really… We…”

“Just look at how swollen this boob is.” She was whispering now, and her breast was inches from my face. It did in fact look swollen, the skin stretched taught over its roundness. A few veins showed through her skin as faint blue lines. As I watched, drops of milk began to appear and drip down onto my shirt. “I really need your help, Lyle,” she whispered urgently, her teeth clenched.

“Fuck,” I said, and then my mouth was on her tit, my lips sealed around the pink nipple, and I was sucking, pulling a spray of milk into my mouth, feeling the little jets hitting my tongue and the insides of my cheeks.

“Oh, yes!” Kimberly said, the words bursting out of her like a grunt. She put a hand to the back of my head, holding me tight against her as I sucked and swallowed, sucked and swallowed. The chair I was in was a big lounger, and she climbed up onto it, putting one knee on either side of my legs. Then she could hold onto my head with both hands, burying her fingers in my hair. “Suck me, baby,” she said in a purring whisper. “Suck on me. Take my milk. Suck it out of me.”

I pawed at her body, cupping the breast I wasn’t sucking on and squeezing it roughly. I felt milk spraying against my hand, and I switched my mouth to that breast, closing my teeth down on the nipple for an instant and then sucking, squeezing the same tit with my hand as I sucked on it. With my other hand I groped between her legs. She was wearing a short skirt, and after I fumbled my hand under the fabric my palm cupped over a soft patch of pubic hair and a warm pussy. She was already wet, and after a few moments of stroking and probing, I slid two fingers into her.

“Yes!” she grunted again. She closed her fists in my hair, holding tight. By raising and lowering her hips she helped me to finger-fuck her cunt, driving my fingers into her as far as they would go. I kept sucking, and still the milk kept flowing from her. It wasn’t a huge amount; a long, hard suck would produce only a sip, but it kept coming, kept spraying into my mouth in those tiny squirting jets.

Suddenly Kimberly jerked away from me, pulling my head away from her with the hands she had buried in my hair. The tit I’d been sucking on continued to spray, the milk landing on my neck and down onto my shirt. She just looked at me for a time, her breath loud and raspy, still clutching my head with both hands. At first I couldn’t read the expression on her face, but then her eyelids fluttered and her jaw tensed with her mouth open. “Gonna come…” she said, her voice thick and throaty. She dropped her right hand from my head and closed it around the wrist of the hand I was finger-fucking her with. She pulled up, forcing my fingers deep into her cunt, then pushed me out, then pulled up again in a slow rhythm. “Gonna come…” she said again, her voice more urgent this time.

The angle was awkward, but by folding my thumb inward I could put a little nudging pressure on her clit. Kimberly made a wordless cry when I did this, a shudder passing through her body. She took the hand that was gripping my hair away and held it up with her fingers spread, as if fending off something invisible. Both of her breasts were squirting out milk now. I hooked my free hand around her body and pulled her back toward me so I could suck on her some more, and as my lips closed down on her nipple she cried out again, a short, wordless syllable of urgency and need. With the hand she had closed around my wrist she started jerking my hand up into her at a frenzied pace, her grip on my arm painfully tight.

Then another cry came from her, this one long, loud, and full-throated. It rose in pitch until side escort it pinched off in her throat, and then her body was convulsing over me, violent shudders running through her like waves, from her shoulders down to her pelvis. Two, three, four times she shuddered like this, and I found the milk squirting into my mouth faster than before, without my needing to suck.

Slowly Kimberly relaxed after her orgasm. With the hand still on my wrist she pushed my fingers out of her cunt. Then she lowered herself until she was sitting on my legs, drawing her breast away from my mouth. “Ohhh,” she sighed, gasping to catch her breath. “Oh, that was good. I knew you’d be able to help me out with my little problem, Lyle.” She tipped her head forward, resting her cheek on my shoulder for a few moments. Then she climbed off my lap, her legs unsteady and trembling. She cupped a hand over each breast, perhaps to stop the milk that was still dribbling from her nipples, or perhaps to sooth them after my rough handling and energetic sucking. She looked absolutely ravishing standing there. She’d kicked her shoes off at some point, so she was completely naked except for the short skirt that flared out from her trim waist. She was still breathing hard and her full, pouty lips were trembling in the aftermath of her orgasm.

There was a heavy patchwork quilt folded across the back of the sofa. Kimberly went and grabbed an end of this and dragged it to the middle of the living room floor, stretching it out lengthwise. Then she lay down on it, on her back with her legs angled toward me. Reaching down to the front of her skirt, she lifted the hem up to her stomach, revealing a soft triangular muff of beautiful, coppery-red pubic hair. She spread her legs slightly, and between her thighs I could see the wet and swollen outer lips of her cunt. She bent her head downward, first looking in the direction of her sex and then looking at me. “You like?” she asked, smiling coyly.

“Fuck, Kim,” I said in awe, in dazed wonderment, my eyes wide and fixed on her crotch.

“Yes,” she cooed. “Fuck Kim. Take your clothes off and come over here and lie on top of me and push your hard cock into my cunt and fuck Kim. Come give Kim a nice long, hard fuck.”

I sprang out of my chair like a bolt, pulling my shirt off over my head. I tried to take my pants and shoes off at the same time, and stumbled drunkenly in the effort. When I was finally naked I stood for a moment at her feet looking down at her. Her shoulder-length red hair was fanned out around her head. She still had one hand cupped over a breast, and she stroked the other hand down over her stomach, across the rumpled fabric of her raised skirt, down toward her pussy, her fingertips brushing lightly through her pubic hair before sliding down between her legs where she pushed her middle finger between her cunt lips and drew it out again.

“Fuck, Kim,” I said again, imbecilically.

She chuckled lightly at me. “Yes, Lyle, yes.” She reached up toward me with both arms, her eyes fixed on the rigid cock that jutted out at a right angle to my body. “Come give me that big thing. I’ve wanted that fucker inside me ever since Sheila first described it to me.”

I wish I could say that this mention of my wife’s name made me flinch with guilt, or pause or hesitate or falter in what I was about to do, but it didn’t. I felt like my mind had been reduced to the instinct-driven compulsions of a lower animal. I couldn’t think of anything except my body and Kim’s body, and the screaming, overwhelming need to close the distance between the two.

I dropped to my knees, then lowered myself onto my chest, shifting backward so that my face was at Kimberly’s pussy. Immediately I put my mouth against her, pushing my lips into her curly hair, writhing my tongue along and between her lips and up into her cunt. She was luxuriously wet; her juices warm and musky and full of the taste of a woman. I lapped at her, flicking my tongue up to stroke her clit and draw her wetness into my mouth. But as lovely as the taste of Kim’s cunt was, it made me think of that other taste I could get from her body: the sweeter, milder, more abundant taste of her milk. I reached a hand up her body until her right breast was under my palm. I closed my fingers, trying to squeeze down on that area behind the nipple that I’d seen Kimberly use last night when she milked herself. Soon I felt warm liquid on my fingers; her milk spilling out over her tit and making it slippery under my hand.

A moment later I felt Kim’s hands on my shoulders, tugging at me. “Come up here,” she said. “I want your cock. I want your cock inside me.”

Obediently I lifted my head, wiped my face with my hand and started crawling up the length of her body. The head of my cock came up between her legs, and after a couple of probing nudges it started to slide into her without either of us touching it.

“Oh fuck,” she gasped as I slowly pushed deeper. “Oh fuck that’s good.” She put her arms around me at the waist and pulled at me, trying to hurry me into her body. “C’mon, give it to me. Give it all to me. Fill me up with your cock.” And as I pushed the last couple of inches into her she tilted her head back, making a gasping and breathless laugh. “Oh fuck yes. It’s been so fucking long!”

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