I Love Your Milk Ch. 01

It was early afternoon when I decided to roll out of bed that Saturday. I headed downstairs, ready to do nothing all day but lie on the couch and watch shows on Netflix while eating delicious food. When I entered the kitchen, I had decided that I was having French toast, sausage links, and some Walking Dead. But, just as I had sat down on the couch, my mom appeared out of nowhere. It always seems like just when you have some innocent, inexpensive plans of your own, your parents -- most times your mother -- come in to smash them to bits.

"Would you mind doing a little favor for me?" Mom asked.

My brow furrowed. Usually my mom's little favors were very arduous. I'd made a point to finish all my chores, in and out of the house, the day before, just to avoid this situation. I started imagining the impossible mission that she had in mind for me. Tersely, I answered yes.

"I need you to take some brownies to Gretchen's house," she said.

Hearing that, I WISHED for actual hard chores to do. I would have rather painted the house, weeded the lawn, or re-shingled the roof, than do what she asked. I let her know as much.

Gretchen Bryce-Hughes was one of my mom's friends. She was beautiful, she was British, and a bit of a bitch. The politer term would be obnoxious, but, since she's not here, I'll use the word bitch.

I seriously didn't know why my mom liked her so much. Most days of the week, she would show up to my house unannounced to share gossip with my mom, drink wine, and raid our fridge. She didn't work, so she didn't have anything else to do.

Also, whenever we had parties with our other neighbors, she tended to get really wasted. Even when we had a party without alcohol, she sometimes brought her own. Her drunken escapades were only slightly entertaining at best and were always the talk of our neighbors. When the Henderson's had a pool party last summer, she got a bit handsy with some of the guys at the party, including my dad. I remember her husband been visibly pissed that day.

Despite embarrassing him deeply that day, the two eventually had their first baby three months ago. Since she'd had the baby, we barely saw Gretchen, which was fine with me. I sat up in my seat to properly argue with my mom.

"She's your friend," I said. "Why can't you take her the brownies?"

"I have budget reports to catch-up on," Mom said. "Perhaps you'd like to do them instead?"

"YES!"

"Listen," my mother sighed. "Dad can't stand her, and if I go over, I'll never get home in time to finish my work, so that leaves YOU, the son for whom we spend lots of money on car insurance and gas. We bought you a car for your 18th birthday, so it's time that you earn it."

"I'll get my shoes."

About 15 minutes later, I was leaving the house in my car, with a container of freshly-baked brownies on my front passenger seat. The entire drive over, I was making a game plan: hand Gretchen the brownies, tell her that I had to hurry back home, and get the hell out of there. If I didn't stand my ground, I'd be stuck watching her baby while she went out to party.

Once I pulled into the driveway, I parked the car, grabbed the brownies, and walked to the front door. A few minutes after ringing the doorbell, Gretchen opened the door. She had definitely changed since the last time I had seen her.

Her black hair was disheveled, her face was devoid of makeup, and her eyes had bags under them. She looked like she hadn't had a good night's sleep in weeks. But the most apparent change in her appearance was her breasts. She was clad in a dark blue buttoned shirt that wasn't buttoned all the way, which allowed me to see those wobbling, gravid mammaries within the loose confines of her top. It was then that I forgot all about my escape plan.

"You coming in?" Gretchen asked me. "Please say yes; you're the only other adult I've seen besides the postman."

Still mesmerized by her jugs, I followed her into the house. She led me to the kitchen, got a couple of plates, and put some brownies out for the both of us. She tore into the brownies as if she hadn't eaten in days.

"Ohhhh, that tastes so good!" Gretchen moaned with her mouth full. "I'm sorry, but I haven't eaten anything homemade in weeks! I've been eating takeout food and frozen meals non-stop. When you have a baby, you don't really have time to do any serious cooking."

"Mom thought that you might like them."

"I looooooove them. Tell her thanks for me."

"I will," I promised. "She would have come herself, but she's got a ton of work to do."

"That's okay," Gretchen said. "So, how's school going? I reckon you'll be off to university, soon."

"Yeah, I can't wait."

I steeled myself for the inevitable slide into raunchiness that was typical of Gretchen. Usually when I told people that I was almost ready for college, they either joked about all the parties I was going to attend, or the hot college girls I would meet. Surprisingly, she responded with, "Make sure you study hard, so you can get a good job."

From that point on, things got strangely more pleasant. Apparently, she had been so cooped-up at home that she had been forced to binge on television shows. We spent hours talking about what shows to get into. I couldn't believe that I was having such a good time. The only hard part was trying to keep my eyes off her chest.

"Man, these brownies are amazing," Gretchen said, picking up her fifth. "You want some more?"

"Sure," I said. "Do you have any milk in the fridge?"

"Coming right up!"

She got up from her seat and headed to the fridge. She returned with a large pitcher of milk, poured me a glass, and then sat down. I took a long sip to wash the brownies down. Just when I was about to casually announce my intent to leave, she broke out a pack of cards and asked if I wanted to play Gin Rummy. I allowed her to deal me some cards, as well as another glass of milk.

"Shouldn't you check on your son?" I said in the middle of our second game.

"Oh, believe me, Danny sleeps like a rock."

"Well, that's good. At least you can get some sleep."

"Strangely enough, he only seems to sleep soundly while Peter's away."

"Where is he?"

"Indianapolis."

Gretchen's husband Peter was a consultant who got paid lots of money to help streamline a company's productivity. I had learned from her that they had first met each other years ago while he was working in the UK on a long-term job. Gretchen decided back then to move here to America, and they eventually got married.

"Believe it or not, there are days when I actually miss my ponce of a husband," she said with a sigh. "Do you want some more brownies?"

"No, but I'll have some more milk," I said. "I'm sure he's working hard to make sure that he can provide for you and the baby."

Gretchen smiled at me. "You are so sweet to defend him. Honestly, when he's home, all he wants to do is eat, sleep and watch telly. I mean, it's been months since we..." She stopped herself. "Sorry, overshare."

"It's okay," I assured her. "You're stressed. I get it."

"You're probably used to hearing me talk about sex when I hang out with your mum."

"I'm 18. I hear about sex all the time."

The room then got uncomfortably silent for a few minutes. I desperately tried to think of something else to talk about, but my mind kept trying to mentally undress my hostess. While I mulled through my brain for a topic, I took another swig of milk.

"Is the milk good, Lucas?"

"Great," I said after downing my third glass. "It tastes better than that god-awful 2% swill that my mom buys. Is this vanilla milk?"

"No, it's mine. I pumped it out this morning."

I stared at Gretchen with cartoon shock eyes. She seemed amused at my reaction, so I decided that she was joking. I forced a chuckle to show that I had gotten the joke, but she just kept looking at me with a calm smile.

"You know what really sucks?" Gretchen asked. "Having a baby that hates to nurse. When I was pregnant, everyone I knew kept banging on and on about how great it was to breastfeed. Now, everyone stands around like a dunce while I try to find a way to get him to latch on. So, I figured, why should I let it go to waste? It saves me from having to run to the shops for milk."

I honestly didn't know what to say. I was confused as to why a grown woman would give her guest her own breastmilk. I hadn't really decided if I was disgusted; the milk was delicious, more than anything that I had ever tasted.

"I'm going upstairs to pump out some more," Gretchen said, rising from her seat. "Do you want to come watch?"

My face and ears burned at her question. I gulped and answered, "Yes."

I silently followed her out of the kitchen and up the stairs. After entering her bedroom, I closed the door behind me, staring at Gretchen as she unbuttoned her top. I was face-to-face with a large pair of breasts. Gretchen's tits were bulbous and teardrop shaped, and her dark-pink nipples were rock hard.

After baring her chest to me, she walked to the side her bed and turned on the pump, which was sitting on her bedside table. A soft whirring noise filled the air, and then Gretchen put one of the suction cups to her right breast. I watched with rapt fascination as her nipple surged to and fro within the tiny suction tube. It wasn't long before I could see the milk collecting in the cup. Once she was settled, she put the other cup to her left breast.

"At least Peter bought me this dual breast pump," Gretchen said.

"The cups are almost halfway full!" I said in awe.

"Yeah, usually after about five minutes, I can make 125 ml."

"So, will this be going in the fridge?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'll either use it throughout the week, or give it to Danny in his bottles."

A few minutes later, the cup that was collecting milk from her right breast was full. Gretchen set it aside as she finished draining her other breast. She didn't seem to mind me staring, not saying a single word.

"Should I go downstairs and get more cups?" I asked her. "I feel like I should be helping you."

"No, just stay and watch. It's nice to have company around here."

Trying my best not to make things awkward, I removed the full cup from the pump and capped it for her. I looked around the master bedroom, suddenly realizing that it was my first time inside. I hoped to find a television so that we could watch a show and keep things casual, but none was there.

"I'll probably be here for a while," Gretchen said. "God, I feel really full today."

"I can go downstairs to get you more cups," I offered again.

"No, no, it's fine. I'll manage," she assured me. Then she began to regard me with a curious look, as if she were considering something. I thought she was going to maybe change her mind, but instead, she looked me in the eye and said. "Do you want to try some?"

When she made the offer, I knew exactly what she was implying. In an effort to keep things from getting weird -- and to make sure that I wasn't misunderstanding her -- I said, "I already tried some downstairs; they really hit the spot after those brownies."

"No." Gretchen turned the pump off and set the full suction cup aside. "I mean, do you want to try some from me?"

My heart beat rapidly as she put her right hand under her right breast and offered it to me. I felt my face burning, and then noticed that she was blushing too. She looked at me with such a pleading expression, like she was about to burst.

"Okay," I said.

"Good. Come here, don't be shy."

"Um, this is going to sound weird," I stammered. "But, do you mind if I take off my shirt too?"

"Of course."

I yanked my shirt off and tossed it to the floor. Eagerly I knelt before Gretchen and pushed my face to her breast. Once her hard nipple pushed past my lips, my eyes fluttered shut as I began to prod it with my tongue.

"Oh, yes," Gretchen moaned. "Start sucking...yeah, that's it..."

She clutched my head closer to her bosom, smothering my face with her warm flesh. With my mouth full, I was breathing heavily through my nose. I inhaled her scent, uncaring that her deodorant was barely masking the smell of a woman who hadn't bathed in a while. Once I felt the milk pelting my tongue, I couldn't really think of anything else. I drank the sweet liquid while savoring the taste of her flesh.

"Yes...suck harder," Gretchen whispered.

When I obliged her, she gasped sharply and began raking her fingers through my hair. Goosebumps erupted all over my skin as she caressed me. A few minutes later, she grabbed me gently by both sides of my head and pulled me away from her chest.

"I don't mean to complain," she said with a smile. "But, I can feel your woody against my leg."

I looked downwards, suddenly realizing that I was painfully erect. My dick was straining against the front of my pants, looking like an actor trying to find his way out of a stage curtain. I looked up at Gretchen, who still seemed to be amused by it, and maybe a bit flattered.

"Sorry," I said. "It's just that...you know, with your boobs out and..."

My eyes closed and I bit my lip and moaned as I felt Gretchen gently pressing her foot against my boner. She then used her toes to stroke it, sending my body into overdrive. After an upwards stroke, she used her big toe to tease the tip of my cock.

"Yeah, you like it when I do that?"

"Yesssss," I admitted.

"I bet you'd really like to wank-off, right?"

"What?"

"You want to jerk-off while you do it, right?"

I wrestled with the decision to tell her how I felt. Things seemed to be happening so fast. Already, here I was, kneeling on the floor in the bedroom of a married woman, with her breastmilk in my mouth while I had an erection.

"Lucas, trust me, it's all right." She grabbed a small bottle of lotion from the nightstand and handed it to me. "Pull your pants down, I want to see it."

I quickly did as I was told. To be honest, it was a relief to have my dick out in the open. We both knew that I needed no instruction as to what to do next. As I poured the lotion into my hands, Gretchen gently pinched the tip of my penis with her big toe and long toe. Pre-cum gushed from the top and stained her feet.

"Ohhhhhh, yeah," I breathed.

"Yeah, start touching yourself," Gretchen purred.

She stared as I grabbed my anxious cock with my left hand and began to shamelessly masturbate in front of her. I looked at her face and saw it was plastered with an expression of wanton lust. She grabbed me again by the head, pulling me back to her chest. She let out a high moan of delight as I used my mouth to drain her breast. The sounds of her shrill gasps and panting were a delight to my ears.

"Yeah, that's it! Suck that nipple hard! Oh, I don't know why there's so much milk!"

My only response was a muffled grunt as I continued to suckle her. As I continued to jack off, I felt Gretchen's foot slide forward until it was under my nuts. The pleasure I felt from having my balls tickled by her squirming toes was completely new and unexpected.

When the breast I was sucking on went dry, I instantly went to the other one. Gretchen continued to writhe and moan as she fed me. I could feel her hot breath, and her long black hair tickled my face and neck. Every so often she would whimper, begging me to suck harder. It wasn't long before my cock began to ache beyond what I could bear.

With a mouth full of nipple, I grunted and released myself. My penis let out three spurts that seemed to reverberate throughout my entire body. I fell backwards, no longer kneeling, but sitting on the floor.

Once the room stopped spinning, I looked over at Gretchen. She was breathing deeply, her breasts still moist with her milk and my saliva. As I turned my gaze downwards, I saw that I had cum all over her legs and feet, as well as the floor and the side of the bed. I could only imagine what she was thinking as she looked at me, sitting on my ass, bare naked and my dick dripping onto the floor. As we looked at each other, we knew that the both of us had crossed a line; our relationship had gone past being mere acquaintances.

Thankfully, the sound of a crying baby broke the awkward silence between us. Snapped out of our trance, we both got dressed. Not even bothering to say goodbye, I headed out of the door, went downstairs, and exited the house. As I drove home, I still felt that everything that I had done at Gretchen's was like some extremely vivid dream. The only proof of our forbidden time together was the taste of Gretchen's milk in my mouth.