Milk & Honey

Part One

Chapter One

 

Ever just look at your spouse or significant other and just say…fuuuucckk. What the hell am I doing in this relationship? Is this all there is to my life? A couple of kids? A job that borders on a career? A house? Sex on Saturday nights along with Tuesday and Thursday morning when our schedules shift just enough for some extra time?

I wasn’t old enough to be having a midlife crisis, was I?

What does a married woman with two kids do for a midlife crisis? Divorce? Job change? Have another kid? New house? Affair?

I looked across the breakfast table at Seth. Ten years ago I was madly in love with him. Two years ago I was madly in love with him. Hell, last week I would have said that I was madly in love with him. Sure, he could drive me to annoyance with his obsession with discovering new craft beers, but as a hobby it wasn’t the worst and he was a good father and husband and all of that shit that society tells us we’re supposed to want.

He was eating toast, drinking coffee, and scrolling through the news feed on his phone before he had to leave for work. The kids were already gone to school. We could have gone back to bed and fucked. We had the time, but I didn’t ask and maybe, just maybe he’d say that he had to get to work.

Glancing up he saw me staring at him. “Something the matter?”

I shook my head. “No. Just…not excited to go to work today.”

He half-smiled and nodded. “We’ll get a sitter this weekend and go out on a date. How does that sound?”

“Good,” I quickly agreed. It should have been good, but it was just…ordinary.

Satisfied with his suggestion, Seth stood up from the table and went to the bathroom. I grabbed his phone from where he left it, keyed in the passcode, and glanced at what he was looking at. The news from NPR. God, we were a cliché of middle-class white Americans. Two kids and a picket fence. We were boring.

I would have spent some time snooping through his phone, but I didn’t have the time. Besides, it didn’t matter. I had snooped through it every few days for the past few months. Except for an occasional foray into some really mild pornography—think barely old school Playboy-worthy—there was nothing interesting on his phone.

What I wouldn’t give for Seth to be having an affair just so I could have something interesting in my life.

Of course, I could say the same about myself. I wasn’t terrible looking. I wasn’t that old yet. I had more than enough men make passes, both smooth and awkward and everything in between, at me. I always gracefully declined because that’s not the sort of person I was.

I was a boring person, apparently.

Wife. Mother. Joint homeowner. IT career that was possibly going somewhere. Sex three times a week, never more.

Fuck.

 

It wasn’t that we were that boring. Or we used to be more exciting. Back in college we had sex up against the science building in the middle of the night when anyone could have walked by and seen us. We even messed around in the library stacks. On our honeymoon we went to an exotic resort that featured a nude beach; it was less exciting than I thought it would be and my nipples got mildly sunburned.

We had played around with bondage, but that didn’t do it for me. I was confident that if I asked Seth, he’d go along with almost anything I suggested for sex.

Was that I what I wanted? Something new with sex? I didn’t want a new husband, more kids, a different house, or to travel the world. What else was there?

I probably should have turned to a life coach or personal counselor. Instead, I did what everyone in IT did way too much. I turned to the internet, which is always a bad decision.

There’s a website for everything. I didn’t know the business model behind SexAdviceExplorer.com but it was what I needed. It was almost a chatbot, just a simple Q&A session. It was easy enough to do it between password reset requests and other stupid issues.

Straight or gay or something along the spectrum?

The first question was a straight forward (HA!) question, but it made me think way too much. Was I a lesbian or bi? Did I even know?

The AI was better than I had anticipated.

You’re taking a lot of time to answer. Do you need guidance? Are you questioning your sexuality?

Again, the question made me question everything. And I got caught up on the last word of the first question. Spectrum. Both Seth and I had tested ourselves and we were on the bottom of the autism spectrum, but I doubted that was the SexAdviceExplorer bot was asking about.

Straight, I typed in

Are you male or female (or do you identify as non-binary?)

Female. I liked how the website made you type in the answer rather than choosing from button options. It made it feel more like a conversation and less like dealing with a robot. Not that there’s anything wrong with dealing with a robot, if that’s what you’re into.

Are you looking for a new sex partner, either with your current partner or alone?

NO! The exclamation point and all caps probably weren’t necessary, but they felt good to use.

The bot was smooth. It just moved on. Is there a particular fantasy that you’d like to involve your current partner in.

No.

Is there a fantasy that your current partner would like fulfilled?

I don’t know.

Do you believe he has a fantasy he hasn’t told you about?

No.

Are you looking for something new and different? Do you think you’re in a rut?

That was it. That was it exactly. Who says bots and AIs don’t know the human condition?

Yes. Something new and different. I just don’t know what.

There was a character count of one thousand for each answer. Good grammar wasn’t necessary, the bot would just pull out whatever it found useful, but I found that I liked talking to it.

Oral, anal, vaginal or nipple?

I looked at the screen for a minute, dumbfounded. If the bot were a person, I might have smacked it. Instead, all I could do was type in, WHAT?!

The caps lock and extra punctuation did little to make me happier.

What type of stimulation would you prefer? The chatbot seemed to take my reaction awfully casually. But then again, it was just an AI.

But an AI programed by people.

And maybe it was a learning AI, which would mean that everyone who used the chatbot since its inception had an influence on how it reacts.

Sometimes thinking about the computer-human interface was headache inducing.

The question was straightforward enough, but I didn’t have an answer for the AI.

I don’t know.

Are you looking for something extreme or kinky?

Without thinking I automatically typed like I was replying to a friend. I don’t know what I want.

Are you looking for an adventure?

An adventure would be better than living a life of slow desperation in the suburbs, I thought to myself. Sure.

You seem like you are uncertain.

Now the bot was sounding like a shrink. That made me nervous. Still, I was already all in on this little examination of my sexuality that I didn’t really want to face.

I don’t know what I want. I’m just looking for…something.

We can continue an exploration of what might interest you or you can just request a random event.

Random sounded like a terrible idea.

Continue exploring.

Oral, anal, vaginal or nipple?

I decided to push the limits of the AI.

I’ve never done anal. That was true. I wasn’t necessarily opposed to it, but shoving a toy or cock up my finger didn’t especially appeal to me.

So you’re saying you’d like to try it?

No.

Oral, vaginal or nipple?

This was a narrowing path. It would randomly choose from the remaining options until nothing was left and then push me that way. I could either choose or be forced into something. Vaginal was too common. Oral was…boring.

Nipple.

There’s lot of ways women experience pleasure through their nipples and breasts. Clamps. Piercings. Slapping. Massaging. Pinching. Sucking. Some women get pleasure from exhibiting their breasts to partners and strangers (sometimes on the internet). Size and shape are often important to a woman’s partner.

That was an info dump that was obvious. I wasn’t planning on showing off my tits to photo sharing sites (with or without my face). Those were mostly harmless, but I knew the risk of being traced back to someone’s true identity. Piercing was out. Just…no. I liked it when Seth touched and played with my boobs during sex, but he wasn’t obsessed with them.

No piercings. If I waited too long the bot would start pushing me again. I needed time to think. I could feel myself getting sweaty, even in the air conditioned IT office. No one else was around, so I was safe for the moment, even though I could feel myself getting aroused. Plain cotton panties are nice because they’ll absorb a lot more vag leakage than lace or silk. I shifted uncomfortably in my comfortable office chair.

Do you want to avoid all extreme and possibly pain inducing options?

No pain.

That leaves sucking, massaging, and exhibitionism. Which appeals most to you.

The bot wasn’t great, but it was nice to move me along. I wasn’t a big fan of massages in general. Maybe because I’d never paid for one and Seth was lame at them, but a stranger’s hands on my body, even as a professional non-sexual service, didn’t appeal to me. Exhibitionism was right out. Every bra I owned was full coverage and I had little interest in getting my, mostly male, coworkers revved up by giving them even a hint that I had cleavage.

I choose sucking. Looking at my response I mocked myself in my head. Pikachu I choose you. Sucking I choose you.

The bot went into info dump mode again. Many women enjoy it when their partners suck on their nipples. It is a common form of breast stimulation. Some women can orgasm just from nipple stimulation either through sucking or manual stimulation. Sucking is most commonly accomplished by a partner’s mouth, but there are sex toys that can accomplish the same stimulation. These toys vary from simple suction cups that fit over the nipples to repurposed breast pumps.

Some caution should be used. Too much nipple stimulation can induce lactation in some women.

I liked it when Seth sucked on my tits before and during sex. This seemed like the lamest possible ending to SexAdviceExplorer.com. “What you need in your life, young lady, is for your sex partner/boyfriend/husband to suck on your nipples a little more before he fucks you.”

I couldn’t see myself buying a sex toy just for my nipples. I had thought about a vibrator in the past, but that wasn’t going to happen.

But I kept reading the last line over and over.

Some caution should be used. Too much nipple stimulation can induce lactation in some women.

It’s easy to lose track of time in front of a computer screen. Millions of people do it every day.

Some caution should be used. Too much nipple stimulation can induce lactation in some women.

I remembered what it felt like when I was a new mother and nursing my babies. It felt good. It wasn’t sexy, but I liked it when my breasts were full of milk and I was sharing that special time with my baby. I never felt so close to them other than when they were nursing from me.

My kids were teenagers now and would be horrified if I ever mentioned breastfeeding to them.

Do you need more information, Malka?

I hadn’t given SexAdviceExplorer.com my name. When I saw it there I started to panic and hyperventilate.

I gulped down some water from the bottle I always kept on my desk and blinked. My name wasn’t all that common so the chance of a bot guessing it correctly was remotely small.

Looking back at the screen I read the line again.

Do you need more information or time?

I was being stupid and imagining things.

I had been using a proxy so it would be difficult (though not impossible) to track my website visitation. No one would know what I had been doing.

I closed the browser and erased all my obvious tracks.

Short of a full FBI cybercrimes investigation, no one would know what I had been doing

No one but me.

 

Chapter Two

 

“Bye Dad! Bye Mom!”

Is there anything less sexy than hearing your teenaged kids calling goodbye to you as they walk out the door for the school bus?

Morning breath. That’s less sexy.

I crawled out of bed and made it to the bathroom where I found the mouthwash, rinsed, and went back to bed with my husband. The bed was warm and Seth was just starting to wake up. I was horny. I didn’t always wake up horny, but lately I had. The late 30s sexual plateau for the American woman was a thing, apparently. While Seth wasn’t fully awake, his cock was. I could feel the hard bulge through his pajama pants. It felt wonderful.

“You up?” I asked him as I gently rubbed him through the thin material. He was up, but not awake.

“Mmm,” was his response.

That was good enough for me. I pulled off my top. I had already left my panties on the bathroom floor. Pushing the covers down, Seth made a noise complaining at the cool air touching his body, but he stopped groaning when I slipped my hand into his pants and grabbed his cock.

“What you doin’?” he managed to say.

“Giving you a blowjob,” I told him before lowering my mouth onto his glans. That shut me up and shut him up.

Thursday morning sex was normal between us. It was our routine. It didn’t always start with a blowjob, but I was happy to get things going that way.

By the time he was hard enough for what I found to be agreeable firm, I had gotten his cock slick as well, which matched my pussy perfectly. Seth just laid there with a happy grin on his face while I straddled his body and lowered myself down onto him.

“This is the way to wake up,” said Seth. He said that all the time when I was the one to initiate in the morning. He wasn’t very original.

“Uh-huh,” I agreed and leaned forward, but kept my pussy firmly planted on his cock. I essentially just changed the angle of my torso so that my breasts hung in his face. He got the hint and turned his face to find one of my nipples. It was what I wanted.

Or at least it was what the chatbot told me what it was that I wanted.

“Mmm…just like that,” I told him.

I continued to ride my husband while he sucked on my tits. It was good. Whenever he moved his head away to stop sucking on them, I pushed it back. There was no way for me to force him to do what I wanted, but he was willing to go along with it for the moment, so I took advantage of it.

Eventually I couldn’t keep myself upright and had to put my hands down on his shoulders. He took the opportunity to pull his mouth away from my breasts and speak. “You’re into tit sucking today?”

“Uh-huh,” I said, redirecting his mouth back to my nipples.

He got the hint. And I had to say that I loved it. Seth kept moving his hands around my naked body, caressing me everywhere, while thrusting his cock in and out of me. On top of all that, he kept sucking my tits. It was a lot to ask of any lover, especially my husband who was, at best, an average lover. Not that I had a lot of variety in my life.

I was ready for more variety.

I was ready for more adventures.

I was ready for more excitement.

Thinking about that alone was enough to put me over the edge and cum on his cock, but I felt my orgasm radiate out from my clit and pussy all the way up to my tits and beyond. It was glorious.

I must have left my body for a moment because when I came back to my senses I saw Seth looking up at me with an amazed expression on his face.

“What?” I asked. My voice trembled more than I wanted it to, which is to say I didn’t want it to tremble at all.

“You were beautiful when you were cumming,” he told me. There was no guile in his voice.

“Thank you.” I wiggled my hips a bit and quickly established that his cock was still rigidly embedded in my pussy. He hadn’t cum yet. That was good. I was ready for him to cum…but I wanted to cum again before he was finished. “Make me cum again,” I told him. “See how beautiful I can be.”

He grabbed my hips and started thrusting his cock up into me, slamming into my pussy and letting the shockwave carry through my entire body. But that’s not what I needed. I wanted—I needed—his attention focused on my tits. It was an easy thing to demand of him. I just leaned forward and practically smothered him with my boobs.

Honesty time. I’m a taller than average woman; five foot ten if you need to know. Seth isn’t a giant my any means. He tells everyone he’s six feet tall, but the truth of the matter is he only hits six feet when wearing shoes. If I’m in decent heels I’m the taller of the two of us.

I don’t wear high heels all that often.

My tits aren’t huge, but they’re bigger than average. I don’t have to spend hours shopping for the right bra that fits. Depending on the fit, either a C cup or a big B. But what does it really matter? I think I look good despite being on the wrong side of thirty, far too close to forty, and having two kids. Just as importantly, my husband thinks I look good. At least he tells me so, but not often enough.

“Are you trying to smother me?” his muffled voice came through my flesh. He stopped rocking his hips up and down which was the more annoying part.

“You don’t show them enough love.”

“I thought I had showed them enough this morning.”

I pushed them down into his face. “Nope. Not yet. Keep sucking and I’ll keep riding you.”

We weren’t a very kinky couple. Hell, we weren’t kinky at all, or hadn’t been for years. Missionary was our go-to. Cowgirl was the most common variation. Once in a while I got it doggy, which I loved more than I cared to admit. I’m sure Seth was wondering what was up with his wife this morning.

I was wondering the exact same thing.

But he willingly went along with what I wanted. He sucked. I rode.

I don’t think any couple every truly cums at the same time, but we got awfully close that morning. I could feel my orgasm building up from both my pussy and my tits; that was new. But I could also feel his cock getting harder and harder in me. I think if I had been wild enough to find a stainless steel dildo I would have ridden that toy to the moon and back. There was an undeniable throbbing inside me telling me that Seth was close.

I came and then he came. Or maybe he came first. The spunk he deposited in me made me even wetter and that little infusion of love might have pushed me over the edge. It didn’t matter. We had mixed up our orgasms together and that was more than good enough.

I was panting heavily when we were done. Seth’s breathing mirrored mine. Even breathing heavily I grinned down at him, satisfied with our lovemaking. It hadn’t been that passionate in years.

“Was it good for you?” I asked him smugly.

“It was fantastic for me,” he answered. “What got into you this morning?”

“You,” I answered like a smart ass.

“But the sex…” He didn’t know how to finish the statement. Or was it a question? It didn’t matter.

“The sex was great,” I said as I rolled off him and headed to the bathroom. “But work calls.” I could feel him dripping out of me, which was kind of sexy and kind of gross at the same time.

In the bathroom I took the time to admire my tits for a moment. They weren’t bad for a mother of two. A woman who I decided was a milf. There was a little bruise just below my left areola. It took me a second to figure out what it was. While we were fucking, Seth’s latch on my breast wasn’t perfect and he had given me a hickey. I don’t think I had had a hickey since high school. College at the latest. It made me feel sexy and dirty in a good way.

I turned on the water and got in. Sex in the morning was great; a shower after sex was an even better way of waking up. I didn’t hurry. I didn’t need to hurry, but it wasn’t too long before the bathroom door opened and Seth entered.

“You’re taking a long time in there!” Seth called from the other side of the curtain.

“Come on in. There’s plenty of room.”

“I’m more worried about the hot water situation.”

I poked my head out between the curtain and the shower wall. “Why don’t you come on in and share the hot water with me?”

He glanced nervously at his wrist, where his watch would normally be, and then realized how stupid the gesture was. “We don’t really have time,” he said anyway. “And besides, we already had sex this morning.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to have sex again,” I said with an inviting smile.

He sighed. “Are you getting out soon?”

“Nope. I’m going to use all the hot water up.” I then pushed back the curtain to show him my body—something he had seen hundreds of times before—but now it had water streaming down it, along with some bubbles. I hoped it was sexy.

The last time we had fucked in the shower was back in college. It was a dorm shower on a woman’s floor and him in the bathroom alone could have gotten the both of us in a lot of trouble. The nice thing about those showers was a little ledge that ran around the bottom of the shower stall. When I stood on that ledge with my heels, I was just the right height for him to pin me against the wall and enter me.

Dorms generally didn’t run out of hot water.

I don’t know how long we fucked in there but by the time we were done Seth essentially had a sunburn on his back from where the water hit it while we fucked. At the time he said it was worth it.

Seth was staring at my tits and I was hoping he was considering joining me. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to get it up again, but at the very least we could mess around. That’s all I really wanted.

Well, that and to have him suck on my tits again. It felt really good while we were having sex.

He pointed at my breast. “Did I do that?”

I glanced down, having already forgotten the little bruise he had left behind while sucking on me.

“Yeah. So?”

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

I absently rubbed my breast, massaging it a bit, hiding the nipple a little, teasing him while trying to make it look like a casual gesture. “I don’t mind. I kind of like the way it looks. Like my high school boyfriend couldn’t control himself in the back seat last night.”

“Hickies are supposed to go on your neck,” he pointed out.

“You can put them anywhere. Want to put another one on me?”

Seth was slowly shaking his head. “We don’t have time for this.”

“We have plenty of time.” I frowned. “Or maybe you just don’t want to?”

“Do we have to do this right now, Mal?”

I sighed and stepped out of the water. I was clean enough and apparently I wasn’t going to get any dirtier today. “I suppose not.”

 

Maybe I should have cut Seth a break. After all, he did what I asked in bed and made me cum and he came himself. He was probably spent and not all that horny at the moment. Still, he could have found a better way to turn me down.

We got ready for work and went our separate ways.

Naturally I was distracted at work all day. I was really just horny. I knew it. I could have gone to the bathroom and masturbated, but getting off in a public bathroom was the complete opposite of sexy to me, and the bathrooms at my job were kept clean.

Instead I found myself with my hand inside my shirt playing with my nipple through my bra while I was sitting at my desk working through a problem.

I didn’t realize what I was doing until I was doing it. It was mostly just an absent, calming gesture, like rubbing a sore muscle in your shoulders, only I was all but openly masturbating, playing with my nipple in the office.

My office, like most offices, was cubicles. Mine had high walls so I had some measure of privacy. No one saw me playing with myself. At first I was relieved, but then I realized that I would have been thrilled if someone had seen me, but I wasn’t sure why. Did I want them to watch while I masturbated? Did I want them to feel guilty about watching me? Did I want to feel guilty? Did I hope that he would want to open up my shirt and play with my tits? Or maybe suck on them?

Did I want all of that?

Yes.

With great guilt I pulled my hand from inside my shirt and buttoned up. My pulse was racing. I was sweaty. And most importantly I could feel it in my pussy. And my tits. What I wanted right then and there was to get fucked and sucked.

Maybe, just maybe, the SexAdviceExplorer.com chatbot was right about me.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but I knew what I was going to do about it.

Before I could give it much more thought, I pulled out my phone (because I didn’t want to leave any trace behind on my work computer) and ordered a couple of items from Amazon. It made me wonder how many Mom and Pop sex stores had gone out of business because of Amazon’s liberal attitude toward sex toys.

But it also made me think of what type of person I was becoming.

 

 

Chapter Three

 

I wasn’t upset with the type of person I was becoming; I was sure of that. What I didn’t know was why this was happening to me. Had I met the middle-aged woman plateau of now-or-never? Was it the last gasp of my body redirecting the impulse to reproduce into just pure sexual lust? Was pure sexual lust my body’s way of expressing its desire to reproduce one more time?

I had no fucking idea.

I was happy to have two children and leave it at that.

I was also happy to listen to my body and if it wanted me to have more sex, then I was going to have more sex, damn it.

If Seth couldn’t keep up, then he’d have to step aside. Maybe I was acting crazy, but maybe I needed to act a little crazy. I had lived a boring life for far too long.

That Thursday night was the same as most of my Thursday nights: boring. Dinner. Dealing with the kids. Vague pop-culture entertainment. Bed.

Except when Seth and I got ready for bed, I wasn’t ready to go to sleep.

My selection of sexy lingerie was limited at best. I had a couple of bras that could be described as non-utilitarian. My underwear…much less so. I had something that was sort of sexy that had been worn years before for a wedding or New Year’s Eve party, I forgot which. I opted not to wear any of that to seduce my husband. Sex wasn’t about clothing or appearance (well, it wasn’t just about that). I had my body and that would be good enough.

I found a thin nightshirt that was more appropriate for summer weather and brought some ice into the bathroom without letting Seth know. Undressing in the bathroom before I went to bed, I tossed my clothes in the hamper, pressed the ice to my nipples, making sure to get them good and hard and erect, before pulling the nightshirt over my head.

The saunter I used to walk into the bedroom was partly affected, but I wanted to catch Seth’s eye. We weren’t going to sleep. We were going to fuck whether he wanted to or not. After walking in and making sure the light was still on, I asked him if he had any special plans for us for the weekend.

“No.”

I stopped at the foot of the bed and stuck my chest out a little. My glance downward was to make sure my nipples were still prominently outlined through my nightshirt (they were) and was also to encourage Seth to follow my gaze down at my tits.

The nightshirt was short. Actually for most women it would have been a perfect mid-thigh length, but for me it barely covered my ass. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem because I only wore it to bed, usually with underwear.

I wasn’t wearing any underwear.

I didn’t intend on sleeping in the shirt.

“Too bad,” I said. “We should plan something fun.”

Seth didn’t really process what I was saying. He was staring at my chest, just like I wanted him to. It was perfect. I could feel my pussy getting wet. It was just a little gush of anticipation, but I hoped my inner thighs weren’t slick and wet, not yet.

“Why are you wearing that?” he finally asking when he realized I was staring at him, waiting.

“You don’t like it?”

He swallowed. “No. I like it. Isn’t it…a little cold to be wearing it?”

“Should I take it off?” I asked him.

He didn’t answer. I didn’t give him the chance to answer. I just pulled up the hem and threw it to the floor. A naked body was all my Seth needed to get ready and get hard.

I could see the tent he was making under the sheets and (presumably) in his pants. If nothing else my husband could be depended upon to act like a man at the basest of levels.

“Like what you see?”

“Yeah…”

“Wanna fuck me?”