Milked To The Max (MMF Threesome Lactation Sex)

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 of 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.