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Ellie Saxx
Milk Me More! (Lactation Sex)
Milk Me More! (Lactation Sex)
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Abby is all about MORE. She has more and more milk, more and more cravings, and now...more partners. When Ben confesses that he described their forbidden trysts to his brother, Abby takes things to the next, double-stuffed level! She demands that her stepfather invite a second pair of hands to the party -- it's the only way she'll be satisfied!
Warning: This 6000-word story contains graphic depictions of sex acts, including erotic milking, adult breastfeeding, anal sex, oral sex, deepthroating, vibrator play, multiple partners, double penetration, and younger woman/older man fantasies. The content is intended for open-minded adults only.
Excerpt:
I was sore and heavy and couldn’t resist folding my arms across my chest in an impromptu massage. Marcus and Ben chatted nervously until they noticed me drumming my fingernails on a tabletop.
“Look, fellas,” I said, trying to sound confident. “We’ll have to address a certain issue sooner rather than later. I’m getting sore waiting. Don’t forget how this whole thing started. It’s medically necessary! It’s therapy!”
Ben looked at Marcus and smiled. “See? It’s not a joke.”
“A joke?” I said, fake glaring at Marcus. I unwound the scarf and let it fall to the floor. Marcus stared at my half-naked chest and I could see the amazement wash over him. My breasts were truly swelling against the lace now, to the point that I wasn’t sure if they’d stay contained.
I cupped my hands underneath and held myself, jiggling the fleshy orbs just enough to give Marcus a taste of their volume and fluidity.
“Marcus, my dear, these things are very, very full. And when that happens, my entire chest gets very heavy and very sore. The only hope is massage and, as Ben probably told you, milking. And I need to be milked. Now.”
“I...I think I get it,” Marcus stammered. He wore light colored khakis with his faded blue Polo shirt, and I swore I could see a bulge forming below his belt already. Seeing his face gave me such a rush that I had to keep pressing the issue.
“So, who’s going to start?” I said. I stood, nothing between me and two hungry men but the thin lace top and the thinner black thong. My pussy surged with a new sense of wetness, straining against the thong’s narrow and tiny triangle front.
“Whaddya say, Marcus? Flip for it?” Ben said. He reached into his pocket for a coin.
Marcus didn’t answer. He stared at my breasts, watching them rise and sink as I breathed, and smiled stupidly.
“Heads or tails, Marcus?”
“Uhhh...heads.”
“Wait!” I interrupted.
“Yes, Abby?” Ben said.
I still had my hands cupped under my breasts, and I pushed them up even more before saying, “There are two very good options here. You don’t have to take turns.”
Warning: This 6000-word story contains graphic depictions of sex acts, including erotic milking, adult breastfeeding, anal sex, oral sex, deepthroating, vibrator play, multiple partners, double penetration, and younger woman/older man fantasies. The content is intended for open-minded adults only.
Excerpt:
I was sore and heavy and couldn’t resist folding my arms across my chest in an impromptu massage. Marcus and Ben chatted nervously until they noticed me drumming my fingernails on a tabletop.
“Look, fellas,” I said, trying to sound confident. “We’ll have to address a certain issue sooner rather than later. I’m getting sore waiting. Don’t forget how this whole thing started. It’s medically necessary! It’s therapy!”
Ben looked at Marcus and smiled. “See? It’s not a joke.”
“A joke?” I said, fake glaring at Marcus. I unwound the scarf and let it fall to the floor. Marcus stared at my half-naked chest and I could see the amazement wash over him. My breasts were truly swelling against the lace now, to the point that I wasn’t sure if they’d stay contained.
I cupped my hands underneath and held myself, jiggling the fleshy orbs just enough to give Marcus a taste of their volume and fluidity.
“Marcus, my dear, these things are very, very full. And when that happens, my entire chest gets very heavy and very sore. The only hope is massage and, as Ben probably told you, milking. And I need to be milked. Now.”
“I...I think I get it,” Marcus stammered. He wore light colored khakis with his faded blue Polo shirt, and I swore I could see a bulge forming below his belt already. Seeing his face gave me such a rush that I had to keep pressing the issue.
“So, who’s going to start?” I said. I stood, nothing between me and two hungry men but the thin lace top and the thinner black thong. My pussy surged with a new sense of wetness, straining against the thong’s narrow and tiny triangle front.
“Whaddya say, Marcus? Flip for it?” Ben said. He reached into his pocket for a coin.
Marcus didn’t answer. He stared at my breasts, watching them rise and sink as I breathed, and smiled stupidly.
“Heads or tails, Marcus?”
“Uhhh...heads.”
“Wait!” I interrupted.
“Yes, Abby?” Ben said.
I still had my hands cupped under my breasts, and I pushed them up even more before saying, “There are two very good options here. You don’t have to take turns.”
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