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 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.
.... There is more of this story ...