Milk Fever

[1]

Chapter One

 

He was nineteen and I was thirty-one, so everything was aboveboard and perfectly appropriate...except that I didn’t tell anyone about my relationship with Coleton.

Well, almost anyone, but I’ll get to that.

I just needed someone to help around my newly purchased home. I was too short of time and too lazy to do it myself. I asked around and my boss recommended his nephew who was attending the local university and needed to make some extra cash over the summer before starting his sophomore year.

Cliche, I know. But I didn’t even meet him for the first two weeks he was cleaning up the yard and flower beds. I just left an envelope of money and saw that over the week the lawn was mowed, the flower beds weeded, the trash was removed, and every little thing I left on the To-Do list was completed.

Two weeks in and because of changing shifts at the plant, I had a day at home in the middle of the week. I was sleeping in because twelve-hour shifts suck. And then the lawn mower started up and I couldn’t sleep because of the noise under my bedroom window. Angrily I threw on a robe and stalked outside to scream at Coleton the lawn boy who was ruining my day off.

I’ll admit it. The moment I saw him I would have soaked my panties if I had been wearing any that morning. The moment I saw him I realized that I was wearing just my thin robe over my thin nightshirt that normally barely made it over my hips. I wasn’t exposed, but I could feel my nipples harden in the cool air. Or maybe it was because I saw a beautiful boy in a tank top with muscular arms and shoulders working on my flower beds. I hoped that my short robe was long enough to cover at least the tops of my thighs because I could sense my inner thighs getting slick from my over lubrication. But that was the least of my problems.

“Turn that off!” I screamed at him. It was only slightly ironic because I wanted to scream at him “You’re turning me on!”

Coleton looked up to see a half-naked crazy woman screaming at him. He did the only logical thing and turned off the machine. “Sorry,” he said.

“What are you doing mowing the lawn at the crack of dawn!” I complained.

He looked sheepishly at the sky. “It’s almost eleven,” he said. “And it’s a rototiller. Not a lawnmower. This bed needs to be completely torn up. I didn’t know you were home. You’re never home.” 

I glanced at the pickup truck parked in my driveway. My car was safely stored inside the garage. Of course he didn’t know I was home.

“Sorry. You woke me up,” I explained. “I’ll do inside now.” I turned around and retreated with what little dignity I had left. The grass felt good against my bare feet. I couldn’t stop thinking about his muscular forearms. Did he get them to be so strong from landscaping or from beating off? My legs were as naked as my feet. My house was on a slope and I was headed up it. Could he see my naked pussy from my angle of retreat?

Did I want him to see my pussy?

I sure as hell did, I admitted to myself when I was inside. I checked my nightie and robe. There were no obvious signs of liquids inadvertently soaking into them. That was good. 

A shower was needed, I told myself when I was inside. I would look and feel better. Plus the window in the bathroom gave me a quick peak at what he was doing.

I didn’t masturbate in the shower because I didn’t want to fall down and hurt myself. I didn’t want my life turning into some sex farce. 

I didn’t masturbate at all. I washed and dressed (nothing too sexy or revealing, but just revealing enough: a cami and shorts, an open loose-fitting shirt over the cami) and waited for him to finish his work. I knew I was going to invite him inside for three reasons. One: I needed to pay him. Two: I wanted to apologize. Three: I wanted to seduce him.

It had been far too long since I had gotten laid, longer still since I had been properly laid, and nineteen year old boys were all about hormones and sex. Surely he’d want to get laid too, right. I mean, I was a few years older than him, but what handsome boy wouldn’t want to go to bed with a sexy, experienced, older woman. That had to be a fantasy of his, didn’t it?

I hoped I was still sexy enough for a nineteen year old. I knew I was being stupid, but sometimes a woman has needs.

The rest of his time around the house seemed to take forever. I was eager for him to come inside, but he seemed only interested in tending my lawn and garden. I surreptitiously snuck looks out the window, monitoring him, hoping he’d take off his shirt at the very least. But he didn’t. That was disappointing.

Finally he was done and he rang the bell to the front door. I wished he had knocked at the back door because...sometimes a girl wants secrets.

“Come in,” I told him. “I have your money around here somewhere.” I left the door open and retreated inside. I hoped my shorts were tight enough around my ass to interest him. Guys liked round asses, didn’t they? After a moment’s hesitation, he followed me all the way to the kitchen. The living room would have been better, and the bedroom better still, but one step at a time. 

At least I didn’t open the door completely naked and grabbed at his shorts offering him a blowjob.

“I haven’t had time to talk to you,” he said. “But have I been doing a good job?”

I spent too much time pretending I was writing out his check without making it look like I was checking out his package. His shorts were too baggy. But I had spent enough time looking at his forearms.

Nice.

“You’ve been doing an excellent job for me.”

He brightened a little. “Thanks. Landscaping sucks but the money is decent. Truck’s a hand-me-down from Dad.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” I asked him as I handed over the check.

He was taken aback by my question. I didn’t blame him. It was way too forward, but I asked it anyway because I didn’t have anything to lose.

“Uh...not right now.”

I nodded because I didn’t know what else to do. “That’s good.”

I let the words hang between us for a moment because I didn’t know what else to say. I was a terrible seductress. 

“Why...why are you asking that?”

It was easy to forget that a nineteen-year-old might be an adult and might be as sexy as hell, but he probably hadn’t developed all the necessary social skills to survive in the world. 

That’s okay; neither had I.

“Because it would be a bad idea to make a pass at you and invite you into my bed if you were seeing someone.”

“Oh,” he said a little relieved...and then he truly understood what I was saying. He laughed uncomfortably and then realized I was serious. “Oh...you aren’t kidding.”

“Why would I kid about something like that?” I slowly slid my hand down from my chin, over my chest and traced the space down between my breasts on my tight camisole. I could feel my nipples were hard. I didn’t dare look down to see if there was any other problem; I didn’t want him to be disgusted by me.

“You’re really serious?” He stared at me dumbly. “I mean...this sort of thing…”

“Look, Coleton—

“Skip,” he interjected.

“What?”

“Skip.”

“Skip what?”

“That’s my name.”

I shook my head. “No, your name is Coleton.” He was confusing me.

In response he rolled his eyes at me. I felt like a teacher in a middle school. “No one calls me Coleton. Except my grandparents. It’s a family name. Everyone calls me Skip.”

“Oh. Should I have been writing your checks out to Skip?”

“Nah. My legal name is Coleton. But call me Skip.”

We were getting off topic. “Great. Fine. Look, Skip, I really only invited you inside to fuck you. If you don’t want to fuck, that’s fine. You can keep doing my landscaping and all that. If you want to get laid...well that’s great too.”

The argument over his name was forgotten. He was staring at my tits through my camisole. I liked that the nipples were prominently projecting outward. It didn’t take much to capture the interest of young men.

“I mean...are you serious?”

I was getting tired of his repeated question. What type of stupid college student was I trying to seduce? “Yes.”

“I mean...I’m all hot and sweaty,” he pointed out.

“Oh.” I paused. “Right. No big deal. We’ll both be hot and sweaty afterwards. You can use my shower.”

“Okay.” He agreed with a nod.

But then he just stood there.

I wasn’t sure how to proceed either. It had been over a year since I had actually had sex with someone else. If I needed to get off, I just used my vibrator and didn’t have to worry about the romance. I was pretty certain the nineteen year colds didn’t need all that much romance either.

“Well then...follow me to the bedroom.”

I turned around, again wishing I had worn shorts that were a bit tighter in the ass, and sauntered to my bedroom. I didn’t look back but I could hear him following me. Along the way I casually lifted up my camisole and dropped it to the floor right in front of my bedroom door. My tits bounced free, but he couldn’t see that. Taking a few more steps inside the room, I turned smartly on my heel.

Seeing that he had removed his shirt didn’t surprise me all that much. He had also managed to step out of his boots. That was good. The surprising part was that he had his shorts halfway off. They were down around his knees. 

I gasped. Not because he had a huge erection. He did. Or at least he had a cock impressively sized that I thought it was huge. It wasn't’ huge. It was big, but not gigantic. I gasped because the last time I had slept with a guy, it took a five minute blowjob to get him hard enough.

Nineteen year old boys don’t need a five minute blowjob to get hard. They just need a half-naked and willing woman.

“What?” he asked when he saw I was staring at his cock. He momentarily went to hide himself, but then realized he wasn’t in any danger. I wanted to see his cock.

“I...uh...I wasn’t expecting you to be naked already.”

He let his short drop down all the way. Had he gotten hard between the kitchen and the bedroom or had his shorts hidden his erection while we were talking and he was staring at my tits.

“Sorry. Should I have waited?”

“No. This is fine.” I realized a little too late that I wanted a little romance. A kiss or two. Maybe some erotic undressing. But I had invited him for sex, not romance.

“Okay. Good.” He let his shorts fall the rest of the way down and then peeled off his socks. And then he was gloriously naked. He was tan from working outside all summer. He had a definite tan line around his waist. He was much paler between his knees and waist, but that was fine. It was kind of sexy. I hoped he didn’t mind that I was pretty much pasty white from toes to crown because I worked inside all the time and five minutes of direct sunlight would burn me crimson. “How do you want to do this?” he asked, suddenly completely causal about his erection pointing at the ceiling.

“Do you like to eat pussy?” I asked him, trying to reassert myself as the dominant member of our little tryst. Without waiting for an answer I yanked my shorts and panties down in one movement I hoped was smooth and casual. I pulled them down together because I didn’t want him to see the rather plain and boring cotton panties I was wearing. I could have put something on that was all lace or silk, but that would mean I was planning on casual sex with a boy I barely knew. 

I know. I’m fucked in the head.

“I love to eat pussy,” he announced loudly. Maybe he was staring at my pussy now instead of my tits. That was good.

I’m not ashamed of my body, it could be a little less curvy, but it’s not bad. And I knew I had huge tits. I can read my cup size. I’m not stupid. I just happen to wear baggy clothes because I got tired of guys staring at my chest in high school and grabbing at my boobs.

I mean, I sort of liked the attention, but at the same time I didn’t like it. Life is confusing. And then when they started leaking…

I flopped down on the bed and scooted toward the headboard on my back. He moved slowly and cautiously onto the bed, following me. At first his face was at my feet, and then it was between my knees, and then I ran into the headboard and he kept moving forward. I was happy to open up my legs and let him kiss my inner thighs. He didn’t slow down at all and put his face right to my pussy.

Since I was already wet, this was some sort of ritual that was unnecessary, but I wanted to do something before I just let him shove his cock in me. I was one of those lucky—or unlucky—women who lubricated easily. I could already feel my pussy juice running down between my ass cheeks, but I tried not to think of that. I just let Coleton—Skip—go to work on me. Maybe he liked it. Lots of men loved to eat pussy because they felt they needed to make a woman cum from oral. I was willing to go along with that.

Sadly, Coleton—Skip! Fuck!—didn’t have advanced pussy-eating skills. He wasn’t terrible. He was just...uninspired.

I moaned and moved around a bit. It was the least he deserved because I was the one who had lured him into my bed. I didn’t wait too long though. I wanted his cock. That was an easy transition to make.

“I need your cock,” I announced pushing back on his muscular shoulder with my heel. 

“Sure. Do you have a condom?”

Good man that he was thinking ahead, because I wasn’t.

“Fuck! Shit! No!”

He grinned at me. Relax. I do. Out in the truck. Wait for me?”

“Sure.” What else was I going to say? No? You forgot to bring condoms into your employer’s house so I’m not going to fuck you now.  I could wait a minute.

He jumped off the bed, pulled on his shorts—no underwear—and ran out the door. I heard the door slam. A minute later the door slammed again and he reappeared in my bedroom, condom in hand and once more I was treated to him revealing his hardon to me. He hadn’t lost an inch of cock to the moment.

I was sort of disappointed that he just didn’t leap on me, cock first, but he didn’t. And that was smart. He actually paused and put on the condom while I watched him, and then got back on the bed, crawling up to me.

“I’ve never gotten in bed with someone so quickly before,” he said to me.

It only then really hit me that we were both nervous about what was going to happen, for different reasons, but being nervous in general made things, metaphorically at least, a little sticky. Literally, I was nice and slick. I knew because while Skip was out in his truck, I had plunged my fingers into my pussy. I was hot and ready to go.

The moment he was close enough, I ignored my nervousness as much as possible and reached down between us to grab his cock. I found it easily enough. It was the only thing on the bed that was like a piece of shaped steel. It was hot and throbbing. This wasn’t going to be anything like the last time I had sex which had been a disaster.

“Careful!” he cautioned me.

There wasn’t any real need for me to be careful. I just needed to put him in my pussy, feel him fill me up, and let him do what came naturally. The only thing he needed to worry about was impressing me.

“I know what I’m doing,” I said confidently which wasn’t a complete lie, but it hid the nerves I was worried about.

We had to move around a bit and find the right angle and do all the graceless fumbling necessary when getting to know someone else intimately. Eventually I got him into the right position and I tilted up my hips and he sank all the way into me.

I think we were both surprised at that.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked nervously.

Moving my head back and forth, I told him no. He had definitely stretched me and it felt good, but he was assuredly larger than my vibrator. I might have to upgrade to something bigger. “It feels fantastic.”

“Do you mind if I go fast?” he asked me right before he started pounding away at my pussy like a madman. “I think I’m gonna cum pretty fucking fast.”

Horse and cart. Egg and chicken. Which one caused the other? While it was fun, he was a little rough, which was okay, but he came in under a minute and I didn’t get off at all.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to cum so fast,” he kept repeating over and over. 

The problem was I was worked up and needed to get off. Normally I’d be happy to use my vibrator and be done with it, but I had seduced a nineteen-year-old boy into my bed and I was going to make the most of it, damnit!

“You aren’t done, are you?” I demanded of him. “Because I’m not and because I’m not, neither are you.” I can be bitchy when I don’t get my way in bed.

“Just give me five minutes,” he begged, his voice muffled by the pillows. “I can go again. I promise.”

That was the one saving grace of a  nineteen-year-old boy. I had forgotten they weren’t one and done. They could go and go, just like a thirty-one-year-old woman could go and go because she was just reaching her sexual prime.

I was starting to understand the whole MILF and cougar thing.

“Okay, five minutes,” I agreed. “Do you like tits?”

He picked up his head where he had it buried in the pillow next to me. “Of course I like tits.”

“Do you like mine?”

He lifted up his whole body. I liked how he had been crushing me, but I liked the view of his muscular body as well. His cock hadn’t shriveled up, not yet. He was still inside me. Skip looked at my tits. They were big and round and topped with slightly too large nipples that were currently soft from his warm body.

I wasn’t vain, but I liked my tits as well.

“You have fantastic tits.”

“Let me tell you a secret,” I said. “There’s a direct connection between my nipples and my clit. Think you can make that work?”

“Sure. Gimme a second.” 

Skip wasn’t the unskilled amateur that I had him pegged for. He pulled out of me, much to my disappointment, and quickly toddled over to the bathroom, hand holding the condom to his cock, but that wasn’t really necessary; even softening he was still impressively large. Certainly large enough to keep a condom on.

After a flush of the toilet and some water running in the sink he was back. This time he kissed me. I liked his kiss. Soft and not overly aggressive. His tongue pushed into my mouth and I realized I liked being penetrated. It wasn’t as good as having my pussy penetrated, but one thing at a time.

“Nice kiss,” I told him. “But you promised me you loved my tits.”

Skip just nodded and moved down my body. He got a little more aggressive when his mouth reached my nipple. I didn’t mind. I loved it. As I had promised, there was a direct connection between my nipple and my clit. I could feel both pulsing in time with my heartbeat as he sucked on one nipple and pinched the other. His left arm was trapped under his body so I casually moved my hand to my pussy just for a little masturbation. 

I wasn’t sure if I was going to get myself off or not. I could have, but I wanted to see what Skip would do for me. 

Abruptly he let go of my nipple. “Am I doing it wrong?” he looked worried.

“No. Perfect. Keep going.” I hated it that he was ruining my rhythm.

“But...uh…” He wouldn’t finish the fucking thought.

“What?”

“You’re...you’ve got you hand on your...um…”

“Pussy,” I finished for him. And I was calling him a pussy because he was acting like a pussy. I want that to be clear. “I’m playing with my pussy because I like to play with my pussy when my nipples are sucked. Okay?”

“Sure...do you want me to.”

“I want you to suck on my tits,” I told him, hoping simple language would work for him.

“Sure,” he mumbled as pulled his face back to my breast.

“Suck on me,” I instructed him. “Suck them nice and hard. If you’re good, you can make me cum just from that.”

Maybe he took it as a challenge or maybe he just wanted to please me. Whatever. He started sucking harder and pinching and rolling my other nipple. I liked it. My pussy was getting hotter and wetter and I knew I was going to cum.

I knew something else was going to happen as well, but that was how my body worked and I wasn’t ashamed.

I still kept a finger on my clit, rubbing gently because I liked sex and I was going to get off come hell or high water or unwanted interruption from a phone call or intruding family member.

None of those things happened. I came. I came from a nipple orgasm. They’re hard to explain. My pussy gets tight and I feel the orgasm, but it’s different from a clitoral orgasm. They aren’t as powerful and they aren’t as satisfying, more like an appetizer than a main course, but I was happy with what he did for me.

I tend to be noisy in bed so it was good that I lived alone. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asked after I was done cumming. I wasn’t exactly screaming, but I’m sure I worried him.

“No. it was good.” I told him with a kiss. “Very good.”

“I’m hard again,” he reported to me.

Nineteen year colds are so predictable. His cock was hard and pressing against my leg. “Do you have another condom?” I asked him.

I wasn’t on birth control of any sort. Not having a boyfriend for over two years will do that to a young lady.

“Fuck! No!”

“Not out in the truck?” I was disappointed.

“No. Sorry. Fuck. And I flushed the first one. Can’t reuse it.”

“Shouldn’t reuse it anyway.” I wasn’t going to risk getting pregnant just to get off with a terribly-thought-through encounter with a boy I barely knew. Luckily he had fingers and a mouth. Those would have to do.

“Should I run to the store?”

I lived in middle suburbia. He’d have at least a fifteen minute drive to any story. I wasn’t willing to wait a half hour to get fucked. He’d have to show me his other skills.

“Just suck on my tits,” I told him. “Make me cum again that way.”

“Okay,” he readily agreed. 

I was thinking about giving him a blowjob after he was done with me, but then I realized I wanted something in my pussy. “Can you use your fingers in my pussy while sucking on me?”

“Of course. That’s easy.”

I’m glad he didn’t say I was easy. His mouth went back to my nipple and his hand went between my legs. He had big hands and big fingers. They filled me up surprisingly well. They weren’t a cock, but we’d get to that. 

He also kept sucking on my tits. The next orgasm I had was a mix of nipple and clit. The third was all clit. The fourth was an all-body thing. I can’t explain it either. Yeah, I’m a horny, randy young woman who, if I hadn’t had a better upbringing, would be a giant slut.

“You can really cum,” he complimented me.

“Thank you.”

“You have really sweet tits too.”

“Thank you.”

“That’s not just a compliment. They taste sweet, not like skin at all.”

I fixed him with a deadly gaze. He got nervous. I liked that. “That’s because I’m lactating. Breast milk is very sweet.”

His eyes went wide when he realized what I was telling him.

“I...I drank your breast milk?”

“Yes, yes you did. And did you like it?”

The expression on his face was somewhere between being complete stunned and revulsion and arousal. I could see that Skip didn’t know what to think.

“It wasn’t bad,” he finally admitted.

“I’m glad you liked it,” I said happily. I wrapped my fingers around my large tits and squeezed them. I’d been making milk ever since I hit puberty, to lesser and greater amounts. It depended on a lot of things. How turned on I was. How much stimulation I had gotten to my breasts and nipples. Where I was in my cycle. If I had been taking hormonal birth control.

When I squeezed them for Skip, I didn’t erupt into a pair of milk fountains, though that would have been great. Instead I just managed to force out a few drops of milk that welled up and ran down my skin.

He was fascinated. I could tell.

“That’s… that’s wild. Do you have a baby?”

I laughed at him. “No. Of course not. I just make milk naturally.”

“That’s weird and wild and cool,” he said as I did it again. He reached out and wiped up some of the droplets and tasted them. He was impressed with the sweet taste, I knew it. 

At least he wasn’t repulsed.

“Want a blowjob?” I offered him.

I wasn’t going to let his beautiful hard cock get away from me.

“Really? Sure!”

All nineteen-year-old boys are alike.