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“Hi David, have you got a mo?”

Whenever Bec had something important to say she’d call me, but not tell me until we met face to face. I knew, though, she’d have thought through whatever it was, and would get to the point without too much preamble. There’d often be a distraction or two, depending how horny she was, but she’d always get to the point in her practical way, eventually.

“Any clues?”

“No. Other than Danny is with Grace at Day Care, and she’ll drop him back home around five.”

I looked at my watch. Just gone eleven. “I’ll come right over.” Bec was planning a long, milky afternoon, lots of play, lots of sex, and whatever it was she wanted to talk about. “See you in twenty.”

It seemed with Bec that I was always at her beck and call. Somehow our lives fitted together without too much complication. Working from home helped, my time very much my own, appointments easily rescheduled. She drew me like a moth to a flame.

Her body fitted against mine, too. I’d ring the bell, the door would open and she’d press up against me with a fierce passion, pushing me back against the wall, just as she’d done as the sporty fit teenager all those years ago at the Rec Centre on a Friday night.

“It’s deliberate,” she said. “It’s a trigger. I know if my mood is a little bit off, I just need to press myself hard against you, and I’m suddenly horny. It never fails. See.”

She put the chain on the door, and took two steps back. Sure enough, her hard nipples centred on a widening circle of milk through her top, as she let down.

“I’ve conditioned myself, now. It’s just fucking wonderful, the way my breasts do this, as soon as I think what we’re going to do. The only thing I need to do is think of us, and my breasts are weeping. In minutes!”

She sounded amazed by her body, how it reacted. I was no different, a low ache would start in my cock whenever I thought of her.

She pulled my shirt up from my pants, didn’t bother undoing buttons. She pulled the shirt off my shoulders and threw it onto the couch.

Some days, she greeted me with her torso bare naked, and I knew she’d been horny for hours and had given up on keeping clothes dry. Today though, I watched, continually fascinated, as the dark wet circles spread like two growing targets on her tank top. Bec liked the hot sticky cling of the milky cloth against her body, and when she peeled the top off, up over her head, she rubbed it over my bare chest, my face, so I smelled of her. She pressed herself against me again, clinging to me, her limbs intertwined with mine, her big full breasts already beading, beginning to drip with milk.

Her mouth was hungry and we clung to each other, my cock thick against the hard place of her belly. If we paced ourselves right, I’d come twice, so we could have a range of delights. Bec had two full breasts too, so everything was multiplied. I’d only been there two minutes and wanted her, endlessly. Her passion was straightforward, honest. She wanted to feel alive, craved for, her lush, animal body drowning in its own carnality. I wanted to drown in her, so together, it worked out well for the both of us.

“What is it Bec, that you wanted to tell me?”

She pushed me backwards to a chair looking out over the little private courtyard at the rear of her apartment. Sun streamed in, the summer warmth making our half nakedness comfortable. By some unspoken rule, we’d often delay our full nakedness together, enjoying the constriction and tangle of jeans and skirts, or track pants, whatever she was wearing. “Sometimes, it’s because I’ve not done the washing yet.”

Sometimes, it was playing clumsy young lovers, remembering when we were much younger. She’d ask me, “What did you do with her, David?”

And re-enact some earlier girlfriend for me. She had a delight, I think, in being more than one woman for me, taking me back to each one, one by one. She’d grin, and press her breasts together into a deep cleavage. “Sorry I can’t do the small tit girls for you, David. Anyway, they’d have wanted big boobs like mine; just wouldn’t say.”

There was one thing for certain about Bec – no body image issues, none at all.

“This body,” she’d say, looking at herself in a mirror, “is pretty fucking hot. Fuck me hard, David, and when you’ve done that, love me slow.”

Pushing me back with one hand on my shoulder, Bec sat on my lap, her thighs each side of my hips. She ground her centre down hard onto my groin, and the thickness and constriction of my cock in tight jeans made me feel like a teenager at endless blue-balled parties, necking behind a curtain, grinding in the back seat of a car. Her animal lust thickened me. She grinned.

“We never did this at the Rec Centre, did we? Can you imagine?”

She’d always sat on my lap, back then, facing away from me. She’d rub the side of her breast against my arm, but would sit up straight if anyone came by. The flip of her pleated netball skirt hid the backwards press of her cunny and her ass, back against my crotch. No-one knew, yet we did it every Friday night that year, when I was her safe bursa escort older man, and she learned her young sexuality. Now though, she was thirty, a hot and hungry young mum, still vibrant and sensual, now able to get what she wanted. Bec pulled her hair back into a tight pony tail, to get it up out of the way.

She leaned forward, teasing up a thick nipple between her fingers to get beads of milk pearling, and she placed that breast into my mouth. “Feed from me, baby, drink me.”

I suckled on Bec’s nipple, and she sighed as her milk let down, filling my mouth. She stroked my hair gently as I sucked on the hot nub.

“Ohhhh, baby, that’s lovely. I love feeding you from my milky tits. Hmmmmm. Be greedy, honey. Take the whole breast. We can play with the other one later.”

But she played with it anyway, as I fed from her milky tit. I opened my eyes to see beads of milk on the nipple, and looked up to see her, gazing down at me. “Sshhhh, honey, keep drinking.” Bec’s voice was soft, her eyes gentle.

The early afternoon sun was warm on our skin. She stroked my hair quietly as I emptied her breast, content with the warm sweet milk filling my belly. Bec took the empty fleshy breast into her hand. “These are amazing,” she said, “the amount of milk I make.

“I need to wean Danny,” she went on, without any preamble. “He’s taking solids really well, and he’s nearly one, which is when I wanted to feed him to.” She continued to stroke my hair, running her fingers through it.

“But I don’t want to lose this, with you. It’s too filthy, too much fun, it’s just… I’m not giving it up, not yet. Not now.” Her hand stopped moving. “I wonder how much milk I do make? I guess I’ll find out, coz I don’t expect you to replace Danny. Bottles, I’ll need bottles.

“Anyway, that’s what I wanted to say. I thought you should know, because, well… you’re a bit essential to my life right now and, if it’s all right with you, I’d like you to stick around.”

She looked into my eyes and there was that guileless girl I knew from long ago. When Bec wanted something, in her practical way she just got on with it. Not that I was going to say no, but…

“How long -“

“No,” she interrupted me quickly with a finger on my lips. “Not now. Another time, maybe, but not now. Too much thinking isn’t good for us.

“Although,” she said, “I do think I want to be naked. And drip milk on you when you’re lying on your back. On the floor, with your fingers up in my pussy. Shall we do that?”

I laughed. “You’re right. Sometimes thinking makes things far too complicated.”

She got up from my lap, and laid a towel out on the floor. Always thinking ahead, Bec.

Without any graces or pretensions, she pulled her track pants and panties down, and stood before me in her sturdy nakedness, milk oozing from her full breast.

“Jesus, you’re gorgeous, just lovely.”

She wasn’t beautiful in any kind of traditional or fairytale way, yet Bec exuded a strong, healthy sexuality, straightforward, lusty, honest. Hers was an earthy beauty, glowing from the inside. Did I love her? In that moment, I think I did, but if I said anything, she’d have silenced me with a finger to my lips. Not now.

Bec leaned down over me, her big breasts swaying in glorious pear shaped weights, one firmer, the other more shapeless. She efficiently undid my belt, the button of my jeans, but the swell of my cock was too thick, she couldn’t easily undo the zip.

“You do it,” she said, “and I’ll tug them off your feet.”

I unzipped the zip, lifted my ass off the chair, and pulled the jeans down, briefs as well. My cock sprung to an instant, full erection, hard up against my gut.

“Oh my god, I love seeing that, every time. Your cock, my tits. Fucking magnificence, don’t you think?”

Her eyes lit up as she reached down to caress my balls. “Where you going to come first, I wonder?” She was whispering to my cock, not to me. “Over onto the towel, baby. Bec wants to drip milk everywhere.”

I lay on the towel on the floor, my head on a cushion. Bec stood over me, her feet on each side of my chest. I looked up to see the plump divide of her pussy, her belly and big breasts, and the most delightful smile on her face. She put one foot on my chest.

“Damn, I should have got stilettos!”

“You got any?”

“Not stilettos, but some pretty high heels.”

“Put them on.”

Bec went to her room, and I heard cupboards open and close, and when she came back she was superbly tall, her legs looking much longer in a pair of black heels. She stood over me once more, and I reached up between her legs, stretching my hand up to reach her, to glide my fingers between her lips.

“Hmmm, yes. Keep… doing that.”

She stood over me, one breast seeping milk which ran down her body in a pearly white trail, and let me penetrate her with two fingers. She quivered, and reached out to a wall for balance. She spread her legs wider to give me easier access. Her calves in the heels took on a sexy, taut curve, flowing up to the heavier muscles of her thighs. She might not have had görükle escort the sturdy musculature she had as a sporty teen, but Bec was lucky, she was still strong and fit.

“Ooooo, that’s nice. Keep… doing that.”

“Crouch down, so I can see. Show me how you jill, just your fingers.”

She laughed. “I told you about Mister Percival, didn’t I?”

“You did. And demonstrated, on the real me.”

Bec looked down at my cock, and ran the sole of a shoe along it, pressing the shaft down against my gut. She nudged the toe of the shoe in under my balls, pushing up against my asshole. I felt a strange rush through me, but then she was crouching down over me, her pussy a foot from my face.

“Tell me how you masturbate, while I watch.”

Bec settled herself over me, finding a comfortable balance between the wide split of her crotch and the tension of her arousal. My cock bounced with the sight of her spread cunt, her close up colours, the shine of her juice.

She began to describe how she masturbated, doing it for me before my gazing eyes. I could watch a woman finger her cunt forever. My hands slowly ran up and down her legs, exploring the curves of her calves, the firm muscle of her thighs. I felt a slight quiver in her thighs.

“I usually begin with my middle finger,” she said, “drawing my wetness up and over my clit. Very slowly and gently. Like this.”

I watched her as she did it, my own hand dropping to my shaft for a slow, lazy stroke.

“Depending on my mood, I’ll add my index finger, sometimes to play on either side, sometimes to sweep over my clit, like the wide sweet lick of a flattened tongue.”

She did as she described, and I watched, fascinated, as her fingers drifted up and down the shaft of her clit. I don’t think I’d seen such an intimate moment, not in broad daylight, the bright light of the afternoon illuminating the colours and tints of her pussy like some astonishing painting.

“When I’m on my stomach,” she added, “I’ll massage the root of my clit. I always use my index finger when I do that. I press really hard.”

Bec looked down at herself, and realised she had both hands on her sex. She paused, as if to allow her words to catch up with her actions.

“I play around the opening of my cunt with my left hand. It’s so sensitive, I can come just from that, sometimes.” She shivered, and I saw a new tension in her body. She leaned her weight forward, her left hand on my chest for balance. “But that’s when I’m by myself.”

She shifted herself backwards, lowering herself so her wonderful cunt slid over my cock like the most realistic painting in any gallery. She eased herself back and forth along my shaft, her lips spreading, her juice pearling along my thick cock, its skin getting darker with my arousal. She reached around to cup, then caress my balls with one hand.

“Mmmm, your hair is soft. It’s like a little curly nest for your eggs. That’s what they are, eggs in a nest. God, your balls are up so high.”

She slid her hand forward, along my shaft, guiding me towards the split of her pussy.

“I want you inside me. Real deep, real slow, filling me right up.” Bec expressed her needs as straightforwardly as ever, with no messing about. “My tits will drip. Well, one will. You’ve already emptied the other.”

She looked down at her breasts, tapping the firm one on the nipple. “Ooo, Bec. Silly, don’t hurt.” She grinned, as if it was an everyday thing to accidentally do that. Bec didn’t voluntarily seek out pain. Except those few times when she did.

She took my shaft in one hand and placed the head between her lips. She rocked to and fro, twice, each time taking me in a little. Then, with a look of intense concentration on her face, she eased herself down on to me, sliding the first inch or two, until my head was inside her.

“Mmmm, mmm,” she uttered, as if something was definitive, just right, and needed affirmation. ” Thaatt’s gooood, really good. Ooo, so fucking good,” she said, as if taken by a sudden change of mind, her first words dragged out in a slow sighing sound, followed by a precise statement, sweet and quick.

“Fuuu… cckkk.” Bec returned to her slow longing, as she slid down on me. “So thick and big, David. I love taking your cock into me, deep in my belly, your juice spurting, your mucky fucky mess. It’s. So. Fucking. Good.

“Oooo, keep… doing that.”

I’d taken her full breast in my mouth, sucking on her nipple hard, trying to get her to the right point of arousal where she’d come and let down at the same time.

“Fuck me some, don’t suck. Let my cunny catch up.” She looked down at me, her eyes dark with arousal. She’d sensed what I was doing. “I’ll tell you when.”

I was half buried inside her, and she looked hot and sexy, riding me in those heels, her hair pulled back in a tight pony so I could see her face, every expression in her eyes.

“Fuck me baby, give me your come. Ooo fuck, keep doing that.”

I was thrusting hard into her now, my shaft completely gone in her body, our pubic hair tangling together, the escort bayan smell of our loving rising in the sunny room. She stretched herself over me, stretching our arms up over our heads so she could push back harder to meet my thrusts, forcing her cunt down hard. Her breasts swayed. We moved faster, finding a quick rhythm, building a load of come from deep within me; and from Bec’s urgency, she was getting close too.

“When,” she cried out. “I’m….”

I clamped my mouth onto her nipple, hard, and suckled but didn’t suckle long. With a long, low moan of joy, Bec’s milk filled my mouth as she let down, the weight of her breast heavy over my mouth, in my mouth. I swallowed, her nipple felt huge and hot. She shuddered, and with another moan, “ohhhh, ngghh,” her cunt clenched around me, and Bec came. The flow of her milk flooded, and the sensation for me was exquisite, that perfect moment when she had me, that point of no return, drowning in her.

I came with an immense shudder, my seed shooting deep inside Bec’s belly. I cried out, “Oh my baby,” and shuddered again, twice, as my orgasm peaked and peaked again.

In a sudden moment of high clarity, my vision sharpened, and the spray of freckles in Bec’s cleavage became the single most important thing I’d ever seen, a little scattered constellation on her skin. One bigger freckle was away by itself. Not lonely though, more as if was orbiting her nipple like a tiny planet. Bec’s own milky way.

She collapsed onto me, her body wrapping itself around mine, her hot breasts sticky with milk. “Fuck, that was nice. We’re doing that again.” She kissed me.

“I love it when you fuck me,” she said, quite matter of factly, her body still impaled on my cock. “When we fuck.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “We seem to be getting good at it, these long afternoons.”

“It’s the sun,” she said. “Being naked on a sunny day always seems so… I don’t know.”

“Healthy,” I offered. “I’d suggest going outside, but we’d get sun-burn in uncomfortable places.”

Bec stretched out to touch the window with her fingers. “Doesn’t glass block the burning rays? I think I read that somewhere.”

“Yep, I think you’re right,” I replied.

She rolled off me, and knocked my hips to one side so she could lie next to me on the towel. She shuffled down, then placed both feet up onto the glass, as if she were about to walk up a wall like Batman did in the old episodes she’d watch with Danny.

“Look,” she said, “there’s my pussy, reflected in the window.”

There I was, too, my cock coiled like a shining snake, the plum red head nestled in the soft cradle of my balls. We lay side by side, gazing at ourselves in the window reflection. It seemed we could lie outside without burning.

“You have a snooze now, David. This warm sun, your belly full of milk, you’ll drop off.” She kissed my cheek. “I’ll get up in a while, do some chores. And come and check on you later,” she said to my cock, kissing it on the shaft. “Plenty of time for another.”

I glanced up to the kitchen clock. It had just gone two.

Bec draped a light eiderdown over me, tucking me up as if I was Danny, to keep me warm. She bent down to kiss me on the cheek. “You’re lovely,” she said, as if that settled it.

I watched her glorious naked body walk from me, her legs long and shapely in those heels, her ass firm and strong. She looked back at me.

“You don’t mind if I put a load of washing on?” she asked. “I can close the laundry door so’s the machine’s not too loud. But my tops, I’m running out of fresh tops.” She grinned, and jiggled her breasts. “These girls, they keep misbehaving.”

“No, you’re fine, go ahead.” She was glorious, she could do anything.

“Ta love. These heels though, need to wear them with stockings, next time.”

“Sexy stockings.”

“Yeah, sexy stockings. But look at these, the full glam.”

She’d slipped into a pair of pink fluffy slippers, with bunny ears on the front.

“What?” she said, laughing. “They go with my glamorous dressing gown.”

It too was pink, and she hid herself away inside it.

I closed my eyes, and for five or so minutes I could hear Bec moving around the apartment, the washing machine go on, cupboards opening and closing in the kitchen…

“David, are you awake? You must be doing something, because that…” I felt her hand on my rock hard shaft, pressing down on it through the cover, “is impressive. I’m going to do do something with that, later.

“But first, I need to show you something. Sit up.”

I blearily opened my eyes, to discover Bec sitting cross-legged beside me, still wrapped in her pink dressing gown and glamorous slippers. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, a sure sign that she’d been busy with something important. Sure enough, she explained, showing me the milk jug from her Gran’s old tea set, delicately fired in a blue willow pattern. She had it on the coffee table beside her.

“I figured I should try expressing some milk. Since I’ll need to do it regularly, when Danny is weaned but you’re not. I didn’t plan ahead very well because, um, it was much quicker than I thought to get going. And I hadn’t got a container really ready.” She laughed. Her brain, as always when she got going, was running away at a million miles an hour, jumping all over the place.

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