Isabelle's Bike Ride
The following story comes from a long voicemail that Isabelle left me recently. I'm still not sure about the veracity of them, or about the extent of what actually happened, like how far it really went. Knowing Isabelle, I have a feeling she might have gotten carried away during her storytelling, and inflated the plot. She was telling me, in detail, about another event that took place two years after her last letter to me, where she confessed that, because of her lactating, her sex drive had reached a peak that she never really was able to return from. Remember? And even though the last words in that letter were meant to cut our ties in some way, she said that... she never stopped thinking about me.
To be honest, I never did, either. We still see each other from time to time. The pandemic and all the new measures at work caused our schedules to never really meet, now that both she and I were working from home from time to time.
And this voicemail? She must have told herself it was going to make me crazy about her again. She knew just how to infiltrate my brain. I assumed the single thought of that was enough to fill whatever void she was feeling that night. So, she had to let it out and tell me all about this other night where she got to love some unhinged sex. It made me wonder, how many more of those episodes were there that she never told me about?
Now sit back, and let me fill you in on all the crispy details.
At that time, Isabelle had gone back to work and her daughters had grown up and started daycare full time.
She explained that her lactation frenzy had subsided. What really helped was that she stopped taking those lactating supplements after she came so close to losing everything on that fateful, chaotic night, when she encountered the police officer under pouring rain. She had resumed regular breastfeeding for a little while, until her daughters stopped naturally. Which, she said, didn't stop her from having a bit more fun with her leaking breasts once in a while.
Still, in the back of her mind, hidden somewhere, she couldn't quite easily forget what she felt that time at the bus stop. Every day, she kept an eye out, wondering, hoping, if she would see this officer ever again. Wondering if she could relive this moment all over.
Heck, even with or without her. She thought about bringing herself, alone, to live the same kind of boundary pushing, self exploring masturbation session once more.
It all started when Isabelle saw that forecast. 2 or 3 days in advance, she saw they were calling for a few consecutive nights with a low of 25 degrees, and a pretty high relative humidity. Her libido activated again. That hot, night air against her skin. It simply triggered a beast within her.
She started making plans in her head for another little nocturnal escapade, again. What about a bike ride? Yeah, that could be fun. That could be really fun.
In preparation, she dug up those lactation supplements again out of her cabinet. She looked at it like she would some kind of old drinking buddy. It was time to fuck some shit up again, for old time's sake. Time for a relapse.
She took two to kick things off. And it was enough time before the weekend for the drug to course through her whole body and take full effect.
Saturday night, the time had come. The plan was to go down that dirt road not too far from her house, where no car ever really goes. She loved riding her bike there during day time, to enjoy the peacefulness, especially when she stopped by that little creek with a patch of grass to dip her toes. And every time, whether she'd be by herself or with her family, she couldn't help herself and wondered what it'd be like to go there naked at night.
She was already feeling the heat inside the house. As she waited for everyone to go to bed, including her husband, her mind was racing. She was trembling, and felt the inside of her breasts stirring, assuming it was the milk production going full blast. Her breath was shaking. Her nipples were getting very hard, and sensitive.
She had already put on what she decided she would wear for her little adventure: a simple white camisole, thin and flowing, which hinted at the generous contours of her massive braless breasts, and black lace panties. Nothing else. It wasn't much, but that was the thrill of it. After all, she told herself, the hardest part was going to be to actually reach that road. She had to cross two regional roads where traffic was a little busier during the day, but after that, she'd be completely free. Plus, the night was sure to offer additional discretion.
Most lights went out in the house. She could feel her excitement growing. Everything was quiet. The coast was clear.
Before leaving, she briefly examined her breasts in the mirror. Her nipples were poking so much at her camisole. She thought she looked so hot wearing it, and she already couldn't wait to take it off. Taking a second look, she noticed two little wet dots, indicating what she knew was coming.
She smiled at the prospect of this bike ride at night, already anticipating the sensations that would accompany it.
She got out and she already felt the warm night air caressing her skin, creating a pleasant sense of freedom. She mounted her bike and began pedaling gently. In no time, she crossed those major roads with no car in sight, and, gradually, she plunged deeper and deeper into the darkness, leaving the lit city streets behind.
After about fifteen minutes, as she followed a path bordered by fields of ripe wheat, Isabelle felt those familiar signs: a warmth that began in the center of her chest and spread outward, followed by a growing feeling of fullness.
"Mmmh," she sighed, slowing her pace slightly to savor the sensation.
She looked down to see that those two wet spots had gotten wider on her white camisole, right where her nipples pressed against the thin fabric. The flow had begun, stimulated by the steady motion of the bike and the vibrations of the road. Curious to see how different positions would affect the flow, Isabelle decided to experiment. First, she stood up on the pedals, and brought her arms together to hang on to the handlebars, this way, adopting a more upright posture that changed the pressure on her breasts. The effect was immediate--the flow intensified, the stains on her camisole visibly widening.
"Oooh my God" she moaned, surprised by the intensity of the sensation.
She resumed her sitting position, but this time leaning further forward, in a more aerodynamic posture. In this position, her breasts hung slightly, creating a new distribution of weight and pressure. This way, she felt the hot night air coming in through her neckline, making the fabric of the camisole gently flap against her skin. But mostly, her posture caused the milk to continue flowing. She could feel it tracing a path towards her belly and between her legs, and the two wet spots on her camisole were now touching her thighs as she pedaled.
The path to that little creek was not far up ahead, now. Encouraged by her discoveries, she wanted to stop and try to catch her breath. The excitement was already ramping up real fast.
She loved coming here. It was a peaceful, completely secluded spot, perfect for further exploration. She dismounted from her bike, leaving it leaning against a tree, and approached the water's edge, barefoot in the lush, generous grass. The moon, almost full, reflected off the water, creating a natural light of unearthly beauty.
It was time. Without hesitation, Isabelle removed her already soaked camisole. Her full, heavy breasts were released out of their confines, emitting a light smacking sound as they took place against her ribcage. They looked even more impressive under the silvery moonlight, with drops of milk constantly beading at the tips of her swollen nipples. The night air on her bare skin immediately intensified her sensations.
"Aaahh," she sighed, running her hands over her chest, deliberately avoiding her nipples for now.
She decided to explore the effect of different movements more methodically. First, she slowly spun around, arms outstretched, allowing the centrifugal force to act on her breasts. The milk traced bright arcs in the night air, catching the moonlight before falling back onto the grass around her.
"Oooh, yess, this is incredible," she murmured, amazed by this spectacle in which she was both the actress and the audience.
Then she tried to jump slightly on the spot. Each bounce made her ample breasts sway, causing a noticeable increase in flow. More powerful jets now escaped from her nipples, creating a complex pattern of drops that shimmered briefly before disappearing into the darkness. She could even hear the droplets creating a splashing sound as it landed in the creek.
"Aaaah! Yes!" she exclaimed, surprised by the intensity of the sensations.
As she twitched and rolled her thighs together, she knew, and felt, she was getting really wet. But like with her nipples, she wanted to make herself wait before touching her pussy. She was resisting the urge, making this desire for herself grow more intense. Still, she decided to remove her lace panties, now finding herself completely naked in this secluded corner of nature. The total freedom put her nerve endings on fire, as if her entire body had become more receptive, more sensitive.
She approached the edge of the pond and knelt down, observing her reflection in a part of the creek where the water was still. The sight of her naked body under the moonlight, with trickles of milk flowing from her breasts to create concentric circles on the surface of the water, was hypnotic.
Overwhelmed by all these sensations, Isabelle decided to lie down on the soft grass, facing the starry sky. Her entire body pulsed in time with her racing heart, each beat seeming to force a little more milk from her breasts. With her arms along her body, she was challenging herself to avoid direct contact with her nipples. She knew as soon as she'd start, she couldn't stop. And delaying that moment was going to make it feel all the better when it came.
"Mmmh... Aaaahh..." her moans mingled with the night sounds of the countryside--the chirping of crickets, the gentle rustling of leaves in the summer breeze.