Milked To The Max (MMF Threesome Lactation Sex) Read online

  Milked To The Max

  by Lyla Luray

  Copyright 2013 by Lyla Luray

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved. All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

  “Is that Stewart kid coming over already?” My husband paused in the middle of pouring cream into his coffee and squinted out the kitchen window.

  I suppressed the shiver of sexual excitement that ran through me. “I asked Kyle if he could look at the rocking chair,” I said casually. “It’s been wobbling a little bit and it makes Oscar cranky when I nurse him.”

  Martin grunted, already distracted by his iPhone. His salt and pepper hair was all I could see of him as he turned away from me.

  “I’ll just go meet Kyle at the door,” I said, still ultra-casual. “Don’t want the doorbell to wake Oscar up.”

  I ran my hands over my breasts and hips as I hurried to the foyer. I hadn’t had time to dress yet because Oscar, my five month old, had been fussy all night and I’d only just gotten him settled for a morning nap. I was only wearing a short silky robe over a pair of panties. My breasts, huge and swollen with milk, threatened to spill out of the robe’s loose plunging neckline. It was a pretty skimpy outfit even for breakfast, not to mention for supervising the hired help.

  Not that Martin had noticed.

  Not that you need him to notice anymore.

  I opened the front door just in time to see Kyle coming up the porch steps. My breath caught.

  Even now, weeks into what could only be called Our Torrid and Scandalous Affair, it still amazed me how gorgeous Kyle Stewart had become. He was only fifteen when I first married Martin Jameson and moved in next door to Kyle’s family. Now he was eighteen, getting ready for college in the fall, and he looked like a young man just hitting the prime of his life: tall and slim and strong, eager for new experiences.

  And he was only a few years younger than me. A married housewife with a baby and a much older husband.

  Kyle’s brown eyes crinkled as he grinned at me. “I know I’m early,” he said, “but I just couldn’t wait to see you.” He kept his voice low, but I felt a shock of fear about Martin possibly overhearing, which was wildly thrilling.

  “It’s okay,” I told him, a little breathlessly. “Mr. Jameson’s just finishing breakfast, then he’ll be off to work. Come up to the nursery—you’re supposed to be ‘fixing’ the rocking chair.”

  I led the way upstairs, aware of Kyle following close behind, his hungry gaze focused on me the whole time, almost physical in its intensity.

  As soon as we got inside the nursery he shut the door and leaned on it, pulling me back against him. His big hands slid inside my robe to cup my full, aching breasts. My nipples perked to life as I ground my bottom against his crotch—I could tell through his khaki shorts that he was already half-hard.

  Kyle groaned and bent his head to kiss the side of my neck. “Holy shit, Lana,” he whispered. “I always miss your tits so much. Last night I ached for you for hours. Basically rubbed my dick raw, I jerked off so many times.”

  I giggled and arched my back, thrusting my breasts more firmly into his hands. My nipples were already peaked, and they dragged deliciously against Kyle’s palms. “I hope you left something for me to play with today,” I teased him.

  “No worries about that—you’ll always get me going.”

  It was one of the benefits of Kyle being a young guy. Compared to Martin, who at age fifty was almost thirty years older than me, Kyle never had trouble getting hard or making love to me for hours at a time, even if I demanded consecutive sessions.

  My sex life with Martin used to be pretty fantastic: before I got pregnant I had a young, hot body which he just couldn’t get enough of. I know the gossip around the neighborhood is that I’m one of those young gold diggers, but outside of the bedroom I really do love Martin. And in spite of the distance between us lately, I know he loves me as well. He does his best to keep up with my sexual appetites—but it just isn’t enough.

  So I can’t really feel guilty about Kyle, because he’s the only one who can give me what I need.

  I snuck my hand between our bodies now and palmed Kyle’s stiff cock through his shorts, enjoying the pained groan that escaped his throat.

  “When’s he leaving?” Kyle whispered. “I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”

  Me neither! “It should just be a few more minutes.”

  He clutched my breasts, which were so milk-swollen and tight they were almost sore. They were also incredibly sensitive—any slight touch these days got me blazingly hot.

  Kyle flicked his thumbs over my nipples, releasing a bit of milk. It all felt so amazing to me—he wanted my breasts, my milk, my whole body.

  As if he could hear my thoughts, he brushed his fingers over the leaking tip of my left breast, collecting a few droplets, and sucked his lips over them.

  “Mmm,” he murmured.

  I’d nursed Oscar only an hour ago, but I was already lactating again. My doctor could hardly believe the incredible volume of milk I’d been producing ever since Oscar was born, far more than Oscar needed. The doctor could only advise me to pump the excess and wait for my milk to eventually dry up. I tried to explain to him that I was already pumping all the time—if I didn’t, I leaked everywhere—and our refrigerator was full to bursting with milk bottles. Not to mention I could barely leave the house. But there was nothing he or I could do.

  Then, one day, Kyle responded to my desperate plea for someone to help around the house. I admit I flirted with him a little at first—pregnancy and motherhood had made me feel so unattractive, and I sensed that he was tongue-tied and lustful around me. It was thrilling to be the object of someone’s admiration again.

  But I had no idea Kyle was so enthralled with my milk. I took a nap on the couch, and as usual began leaking while I slept. Kyle was so turned on at the sight he was completely unable to stop himself from taking a few sips directly from the source! I woke up to find him suckling my breasts urgently, and realized I was just as turned on by his adoring crush, by his lovely mouth stimulating my nipples, and by his passion for what my body produced.

  So while Kyle is apparently the only one who can give me what I need, I’m also the only one who can give him what he needs.

  We gave in to our lust all over the house that day, and I haven’t looked back since.

  Well, other than the times I’m pleasuring myself and need the memories to help me finish.

  He was now getting more into our sneaky little tryst. He spun me around in his arms and yanked my robe down, baring my breasts to his ravenous gaze. “Oh fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breathed. “So fucking sexy.”

  Then his voice muffled into incoherent moans because he’d fastened his mouth to my nipple.

  My eyes fluttered shut at the gentle sucking sensation as he sipped my milk. My breasts were so sensitive that I often got aroused just from my baby’s nursing. It was a hundred times more intense when Kyle did it. I felt a rush of wet heat between my legs.

  Somewhere downstairs, Martin was probably finishing up his coffee and searching for his car keys. He might even come looking for me to say goodbye. But at the moment I didn’t care—I couldn’t concentrate on anything but the feel of Kyle’s mouth on me, of his hands sliding up the back of my short robe to clasp my buttocks. I slid my own hands through his hair, holding his head close.

  “Oh, sweetie,” I murmured. “It always feels so good when you do that.”

  He began flicking his tongue against my nipple, lapping up the milk which was now beginning to stream out more strongly. Each stroke o
f his tongue sent another small wave of heat to my core. In fact, I felt like my whole body was burning for his touch—and burning to touch him back. My hands scrabbled at his shirt, trying to lift it.

  Then, dimly, I heard Martin’s voice: “Lana…?” And a few seconds later, closer as he came up the stairs: “Lana? I’m heading out now.”

  “Oh, crap!” I gasped, pushing Kyle away. His mouth came off my nipple with a soft wet pop! His eyes looked up at me dazedly. “Martin’s coming upstairs!” I hissed. “Go over there by the rocking chair and pretend to be fixing it.”

  I shoved him toward the chair and looked down at myself. My breasts were still leaking copious amounts of milk, apparently in response to Kyle’s avid attentions. My gaze fell on my breast pump, on the table next to Oscar’s crib. Hurriedly, I snatched it up and attached it to myself, then dashed out the door into the upstairs hallway.

  Martin was just stepping onto the landing. His jaw dropped a little at the sight of me pumping. “Oh, sorry, honey. Didn’t realize you were, uh, doing that.”

  I hoped it excused my disheveled appearance in his mind. “It’s okay, Martin,” I said. “I just started. Are you heading to work now?”

  He nodded, and I went up to him and gave him a kiss, which he returned stiffly before stepping carefully away from me. He peered through the open doorway of the nursery, where Kyle was bent over the rocking chair, his back to us.

  “How long will he be, do you think?” Martin asked.

  “I don’t know. I have some other things around the house that need doing.” Like me.

  “Well, give me a call if you need anything.”

  I couldn’t read the look on his face, but I gave him a sunny smile. “Will do. Have a good day, sweetie!”

  I waved to him as he disappeared down the stairs, then waited until I heard the front door shut and his car leave the driveway.

  Kyle grabbed me as soon as I got back to the nursery. “Don’t pump out anything,” he said. “I want it all.”

  I smiled and detached the pump, letting it fall to the floor. “Go ahead and take it, baby.”

  He walked backward, hands on my hips, and sat in the rocking chair, guiding me down to straddle him. The chair moved with our weight, throwing me forward onto him so that my breasts smushed against his face, and I giggled.

  I pulled my robe off the rest of the way and tossed it next to the breast pump. Now I was naked except for my tiny panties. I could see from the way Kyle gazed up at me that he appreciated the view.

  “Mmm,” he murmured, bending his head to lap at each nipple in turn. I watched the milk spread onto his tongue before it disappeared inside his mouth. His throat worked as he swallowed. His lips were hot and wet and I could feel his breath washing over my sensitive skin.

  I cupped my breasts and lifted them for better access. He kept his hands on my hips, stabilizing me as the chair gently rocked us. I let my eyes fall shut again and just reveled in the feel of his lips and tongue playing with my sensitive nipples, licking and swirling and suckling. The feel of the milk leaving me, and the knowledge that he craved it so intensely, only added to my pleasure.

  Whenever Kyle left one nipple alone, the milk would continue to flow, streaming down my torso. It soaked my panties so that the front triangle darkened and clung to me. The smell of my mingled juices came up between us, sweet and heady and rich.

  “God, I want to lick you all over,” Kyle breathed.

  “Why don’t you?” I invited.

  He lifted me up onto my knees so that my belly rose closer to his mouth, and licked up the streams of milk with long strokes of his tongue. It tickled a little bit, but at the same time his desperation made me arch my back sensuously. Kyle’s strong arms kept holding me securely, and my pussy, still covered in wet cloth, dragged against his chest. Fire ignited at the contact.

  When he’d licked my body clean he lifted me out of the chair and lay down on the floor, underneath me. I knelt over him and leaned down, letting my heavy, pendulous breasts drip milk directly into his open mouth.

  But then he guided me further up his body, so that I knelt over his face.

  “I want to taste your pussy,” Kyle whispered. “I love the way it tastes when you’re all wet and your milk mixes in.”

  “Oh, God!” I gasped.

  He snapped the fragile string of my panties and shoved the drenched material down my thigh, then urged me onto his mouth. His tongue, so agile and adept on my nipples, now swirled around my cunt.

  Kyle had been a virgin when we first got together, but what he’d lacked in experience he more than made up for in enthusiasm. I’d taught him well since then: his favorite move of licking my clit, flicking it expertly with his tongue, then suckling it gently with his lips, drove me crazy with want.

  “Keep doing that,” I begged him. “Oh, sweetie, it feels so good!”

  Because he’d said he wanted more of my milk—he always wanted more of my milk—I stroked my breasts and tweaked my nipples to keep the flow going. The creamy liquid spurted out and followed the same tracks down my body that it had before, but this time there was no fabric to soak it up. The milk ran between my legs, where Kyle’s thirsty mouth waited.

  “Mmm, fuck,” he groaned.

  Then I didn’t hear anything more except for his pleased grunts and snuffled breaths as he proceeded to lick up every last bit of moisture he could manage. Some of it still escaped his eager lips, running down the sides of his face to the floor, but he didn’t seem to mind. His eyes were squeezed shut in bliss.

  “Oh, baby,” I groaned, rolling my hips a little. “Oh, I love this!”

  “Mmm,” he agreed.

  His tongue thrust into my hole, then circled my clit, then my hole again. Back and forth in rhythm. Meanwhile, his strong fingers clutched my buttocks and gave me support as I made small writhing motions against his face.

  I’d never done anything like this with Martin. It was so…dirty, like everything I did with Kyle. These days, after Martin and I had sex he always seemed embarrassed by the messiness of my milk, which always got all over the bed. Sometimes it even seemed like he preferred to fuck me doggy style so he wouldn’t have to even see my breasts. I went along with that only because I was so horny lately that anything felt good, but I missed the days and nights when he just loved to stare at my body and play with everything I had.

  Thank goodness for Kyle! I rode his face for what felt like an endless period of extreme pleasure, feeling like I could burst at any moment. But I held on, loving the long slow build to the inevitable explosion.

  My milk was starting to slow down, though, which made Kyle’s mouth frantic on my pussy as he tried to get more of it. His hands clenched my ass urgently. All of it drove my pleasure even higher, made me feel even wilder and more abandoned. Any moment now…any moment…

  Finally, the milk seemed to have gone—not for long, of course, since it would replenish itself very quickly. Still, Kyle’s worshipful tongue swept over my pussy in rapid, thorough strokes, searching for any lingering taste.

  I smoothed his milk-wet cheeks and whispered, “I think that’s it for now. Make me come, baby. Please make me come.”

  “Mmmhmm,” he panted.

  Then his lips tugged gently at my clit, followed by the massaging tip of his tongue. Over and over, driving me higher and higher up the peak of pleasure until I couldn’t take it anymore.

  I shut my eyes and let the waves of orgasm wash over me finally, my entire body convulsing in their wake.

  I hadn’t realized how much noise I was making, but apparently my wails of pleasure were loud enough to wake Oscar, who started whimpering in the crib a few feet away.

  “Oh, gosh,” I said, scrambling off of Kyle. “I’ll have to feed him from the bottle for once! You drank all my milk!”

  “Give him my apologies,” Kyle said from the floor, smacking his lips. He was still fully-clothed. “But it was worth it.”

  I grinned at him. My torn panties slid the rest of the wa
y off my leg as I stood and lifted Oscar from the crib. He was such an adorable baby, the perfect combination of me and Martin.

  I was still a little overwhelmed from my orgasm, so I let Kyle carry Oscar downstairs to the kitchen for me. There was a bottle sitting out on the counter—I’d actually meant to save it for Kyle, who liked to have his own supply at home—and that did nicely for Oscar. I knew I’d be able to fill several more bottles before Kyle left for the day anyway.

  Oscar drifted off to sleep in the middle of his feeding, apparently still tired after his fussy night. I tucked him back into his crib, turned the baby monitor on, and took Kyle’s hand.

  “Bedroom,” I ordered. “Now.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, following me adoringly.

  …

  I sucked Kyle’s cock in return for the pleasure he’d given me. I did it slowly and seductively, pulling off his clothes one by one in the master bedroom. He watched me, his mouth hanging open. His cock sprang free from his boxers, long and rigid and flushed dark with his arousal. I pushed him to sit on the end of the bed and got down between his legs.

  I rubbed my breasts along his firm shaft, fitting him into my cleavage and squeezing my breasts together with my upper arms to make it tighter for him. He groaned and trembled a little bit. “Sometimes I fantasize about you doing that,” he confessed. “Just your big luscious breasts all over my dick.”

  I smiled up at him wickedly. “But is that as fun as this?”

  Then I licked his cock from balls to tip. I circled my tongue around the top, picking up a salty drop of pre-come.

  “Fuck, fuck,” he breathed. “I fantasize about you doing all kinds of things to me. Ever since you moved in next door. Sometimes I’d spy on you from my bedroom window and jerk off. My friends would come over and spy on you, too.”

  Even if he hadn’t babbled some variation of that confession to me multiple times over the past few weeks, I already had an idea. I used to be pretty hot, after all. I could sense whenever I had male attention focused on me.

  “Still can’t believe this is all real,” Kyle said wonderingly, spreading his legs a little wider.