33-Pack CHEATING Megabundle (38 page)

Nervously, I walked up to the entrance of the gym, unconsciously rubbing my tender, milk-filled breasts. I had learned that once you become pregnant, you tend to start making unconscious movements – such as rubbing your belly or comforting your aching breasts.

Just as I had expected, almost no one was in the gym. I showed the counter clerk my old membership card – which still had a couple of months left on it – and he let me right in, immediately turning his attention back to his solitaire game.

Perfect
, I thought as I took a big sigh of relief. The place had been jazzed up a little since I had been there last. They had put in some new, modern equipment such as TVs and fancy treadmills, but other than that, it was still the same old familiar place that I had grown to love.

With a little more spring in my step, I strode to the locker rooms, found a corner locker and undressed. Even though my body wasn't that much out of shape, I was still a little bit self-conscious about it.

I brushed the palm of my hand over my aching, swollen breasts, wishing that I had expressed myself before I had left. I thought about milking myself in the bathroom or shower, but I really didn't want to waste the milk. This stuff was like liquid gold.

I closed my eyes, thinking about how long it had been since I had had sex. My husband was not very much interested in pregnant beach ball babes or lactating mothers for that matter and there had been many nights that I had wished for something more than my fingers.

Unconsciously, my hand slid down my creamy body and began to stroke my clit. I couldn't believe how wet I was. All throughout my pregnancy and even after I had given birth, it was like my hormones were on overdrive. Even my husband remarked that I was playing with myself more often than usual. I wanted so badly to get back to my old body so that I could start enjoying sex again, although the thought of fucking my husband was starting to seem bland and old. I needed something – or someone – new.

Without prompting, my overfilled breasts began leaking. They always leaked when I was horny, but especially when they were filled to the brim with milk. Suddenly I wondered what the hell I was doing at the gym with leaky breasts.
This was insane
.

I was brought out of my daydreams by the janitor vacuuming the hallway. I guess I had better get out on the floor and do some weightlifting before they had to call a plumber to clean up the flood that I was about to release.

With a big sigh, I threw on my gym clothes – which was nothing more than a bikini with a T-shirt over it – and made my way to the familiar weight room.
Good
, I thought,
no one was here
. I was pretty sure that no one really wanted to see a milking mother trying to lift weights. I knew for a fact that it would gross my husband out.

Before I had even lifted the first weight, my creamy milk started to leak through my bikini top and into my shirt. If there had of been anyone else around, I would have been mortified and probably just turned around and left. But, I shrugged,
why the hell not
? No one was here. What they didn't know, wouldn't hurt them – or me.

I tried to remember how much I was able to lift before getting knocked up, but found that it had been so long ago, that I couldn't recall. Suddenly feeling cheeky, I started trying out the various weights to see where I was. At first, there was no problem. Except for my leaky breasts, that was. It was comical in a way, as I was starting to leave a trail of breast-milk on every machine that I came across. Of course I wiped it up with my towel before leaving as the staff would probably shit bricks if they knew what I was doing.

Soon, I decided to venture to the free weights. Fuck the assisted weights, this was where it was at. I quickly determined that, while I had lost some strength, I could still kick some ass. What I didn't count on, however, was fatigue. Not only was it late at night, but the past few months I hadn't been getting very good sleep because of the baby. Add to that my lack of conditioning, and I found that after a few minutes it started getting harder and harder to lift the weights.

After several sets, I really should have quit. But, like the blonde that I was, I didn't. I had completely forgot where I was and that my breasts were practically squirting milk all over the place. I'm sure that if someone were to come by at that moment, they would have gotten a good laugh at the stupid lactating lady. But, like I said, sometimes I was a dumb blonde, and none of that occurred to me.

The last weight that I tried to lift, was a bench-press that I knew that pre-pregnancy, I could handle with no problem. Now? Let's just say, I shouldn't have even tried it – especially since there was no one in the room with me in case I fucked up.

Which I did.

Fear coursed through me when I realized that I couldn't get the barbell back over my head and onto the rest. No matter how hard I tried and strained, I just couldn't do it. And in my weakened state, it probably wasn't a good idea to strain too hard.

Panicking, I realized that my only option was to cry out for help and hope that someone was near enough to hear me. Otherwise, things could go south very quickly.

As loud as I could muster, I cried out for help. I felt stupid, helpless and weak, but I knew that I was in trouble and there was no other way to get out of it. Even big, burly men needed a spotter now and then.

My heart beat faster as I realized that no one had heard me. Just as I was about to scream my lungs out, I heard footfalls racing down the hallway. I breathed a sigh of relief as the man came over and took the weights from my arm. I was impressed by the way that he just plucked the weight from me as though it was a feather. Of course, what did I expect, he was probably a bodybuilder and could probably bench-press me with one hand.

"Thank you," I gushed as I turned around. My eyes went wide as I saw just who this spotter was.

"Jennifer," he said, surprise written all over his face. "what are you doing here? You really should be more careful handling these weights by yourself," he cautioned.

I sat there with my mouth open and my eyes wide. Jake, my black, hunky next-door neighbor, was the last man on earth that I expected to see at the gym. I had always admired his body from afar, and it made sense that he worked out – but I just didn't expect to see him here.
Oh God
, I thought, as I squeezed my legs together as I tried unsuccessfully to suppress an orgasm.

"Wow," he looked my body up and down with hunger in his eyes, "you must've really been working out hard."

Finally, I regained my senses and shrugged, "not really any harder than normal. Why would you say that?"

He pointed to my shirt that was completely soaked in my breast-milk.

"Oh my God," I said, trying vainly to cover my shirt stain.

"What?" he said, leering at me. "Everyone sweats, it's nothing to be ashamed about."

Suddenly, I couldn't look him in the eye and the thought that he had caught me lactating milk all over myself made me so wet that my thighs became slick with my own juices. "It's not that," I said standing up. I wanted nothing more than to escape into the locker room, take a shower and go home. But he had other ideas.

"What is it then," he furrowed his brows, no doubt wondering if there was something wrong.

I sighed and realized that I wasn't going to get out of this without explaining it to him. Looking around furtively, I lifted up my shirt and pulled aside my swimsuit top. I couldn't believe that I was doing this, but there was really no other way that I was going to be able to explain this to him.

The naughtiness of what I was doing hit me like a ton of bricks as a powerful orgasm ripped through my body as I showed my breasts to my neighbor. He was the first man outside of my husband to see me naked. Of course, like my husband, he probably wasn't interested in woman issues.

"Whoa," he said as he took a gander at my large, milky breasts. "It looks like you need to express yourself."

He was right, I really should be getting home so that I could get all this milk out of my breasts. But something riveted me to that spot. Maybe it was the naughtiness of having my big black neighbor staring at my humongous white milk engorged boobs that made me stay. Maybe it was the fact that I hadn't been properly taken care of in the last year or so. Maybe it was because I had a huge crush on the guy and had pretty much fantasized about him every chance I got.

Whatever it was, I didn't leave. In fact, I pulled off my shirt and offered my breast to him. "Would you mind giving me some release, Jake?" I seriously couldn't believe that I was doing this.
Was I out of my mind
? There was also the very real possibility that we could get caught.

He looked at me questioningly, looked back at my engorged breasts, and then looked back at me with a lecherous grin. He didn't have to be asked twice. He was a smart man. Ravenously, he latched his large lips against my tender, swollen nipples. I was unprepared for the sensation of having a man – instead of a baby – latch onto my breast. It was at that moment that I realized what I had been missing for the last year or so.

I saw something then in his eyes that I hadn't seen since I had been knocked up: lust. I threw my head back and moaned as I felt his hot, tender lips brush up against my stiff nipples. He seemed to know that they were sensitive as he was very tender and caring with them. I pressed my breast out, arching my back so that he could have full access to them. Without a second thought, I slipped out of my panties and began touching myself.

Suddenly, the fantasies that I had been having about Jake came crashing back to me. A small part of me hoped that I would be able to fulfill some of them. I still loved my husband, but at this point I needed Jake. I needed what he could give to me. I needed his hot lips caressing my sensitive nips.

"I need you," I moaned as he straddled the bench and pulled my chest to him. "Please suck gently," I begged as I pulled his head to my breast.

He nodded, without ever leaving my nipples. Back and forth he went, sucking on my breasts like a thirsty dying man. At this point, my breasts were more than leaking, they were spurting out. I looked around once more to make sure that no one was around and – satisfied that they weren't – I slipped my finger inside my pussy.
God I was wet
! I brought my finger to his nose, wondering if he was into smelling women's scent. Not all guys were. Like my husband.

He stopped suckling for a moment as he surveyed his new prize. He looked up at me and arched an eyebrow and then sniffed my horny woman scent. I didn't know if he was married or had a girlfriend as I had never seen him with a woman, but he acted like he was just as sex starved as I was.

In a flash, he had devoured my sex on my finger.
I couldn't believe this
! No one had ever shown this much interest in my bodily fluids before. This was something a girl could get used to.

Soon, though, he turned back to my squirting breasts and began trying to catch the arcing milk streams before they hit the ground. It was like a game to him. A game in which he seemed to be very good at.

It was then that I noticed that – at some point – he had taken off his shorts and shirt. I ran my fingers over his muscular body, feeling his strength and power. I marveled at his muscles. However, it wasn't his muscles that attracted my hands, it was his massive black dick. Outside of my husband's porn magazines, I had never seen a black man's cock before. I had heard that many black men were well-hung, but I had nothing compared him to other than my husband's – which wasn't even half his size.

Without a second thought as to whether what we were doing was right or wrong, I snaked my hand down to his gigantic cock and began stroking it. He was already semi-hard and the instant I touched it, it jumped to life as though it had a mind of its own.

"Oh baby," he groaned as he pressed his face farther into my leaky chest, "just keep doing what you're doing."

I suddenly wondered if Jake would have been interested in me while I was pregnant. How many times had I laid awake at night hot and horny, thinking about him and touching myself? If I had of known that he was as interested in me as I was him, I might not be in the state that I am right now.

His permission gave me confidence and I began stroking him faster and harder. Suddenly, I got the idea to coat my hands with my milk and stroke him like that. That worked a treat as he moaned and bucked his hips when my milky lubed hands caressed his massive dick. I don't know what came over me, but I had to have him. I needed him like I had needed nothing in my life.

Detaching his lips from my breast was a bit of a chore, but when he realized that I wanted to attach
my
lips to his cock, he acquiesced. He laid back on the bench as I knelt down beside him. I swear to God that these benches were made especially for this. Getting a good look at his monstrous cock this close, I could really see how he was much bigger than any other guy I had come across.

At first, I wasn't even sure that I could fit the guy in my mouth, but I wasn't about to let something like that stop me from getting what I needed – what had been kept from me by the one person who should have been offering it to me. Feeling just a little bit guilty, I quietly slipped my wedding ring off my finger and tucked it away. What I was doing was so naughty that I didn't know how I was going to be able to look my husband in the eyes tomorrow.

But, dammit, this was something that I needed. And he wasn't giving it to me. Maybe he could look at his porn mags and get off just fine, but I needed something more - I needed a big massive cock in the my pussy. At that moment, there was only one cock that would fit the bill.

After an interminable length of time, as his cock twitched and flexed waiting for my inviting mouth, I slowly descended upon his shaft. Like I said, I had never had another man inside me – or my mouth – so I didn't really know what to expect. I could see that he was far larger than my husband, but other than that I felt like I was a bit of a virgin. Would I be good enough for him? Even when my husband and I made love, it was only it once every week or so. What if I was too experienced for him?