Chapter Vii Late Night At The Supermarket

I stopped nursing five years ago. I weaned my youngest when he was around a year old. Juggling my time between work and family, I had more than enough to worry about pumping. But then, that was before I joined the club.

In a few months after I joined, I noticed that my areolas have started darkening all over again. At first, I didn't think much of it. After all, my 'girls' were getting a lot of attention. Using nipple balm to ease their soreness came to be a bedtime routine.

All until that night when I was with Peppy, an old patron of the club and a 'friend' of mine now. We were in one of the back rooms and we had just finished. He was buttoning the shirt over his saggy beer belly, while I stood with my legs wide open, wiping his cum off my inner thighs.

Peppy is Brazilian, or shall I say, was Brazilian. When he talks, he has one of the strongest cockney accents I have ever heard. He runs a used car dealership and garage. He is such a lovely man in his early 60s. Perhaps he is not fit or that it is particularly easy to make him cum. Still, it is such a shame that neither his wife nor his mistress can appreciate him in the right light. Poor him. If he was mine, I would 'baile' my arse on his mushroom head cock every night.

"When did you get pregnant?" he thoughtlessly asked me as he snapped his boxers over his heavy flaccid cock, fixing its band under his overbearing tanned belly.

"I am not pregnant!" perplexed, I answered him. "Did I put on weight?" I nervously continued, checking myself in the mirror, my hips, my arse.

"Your tits," he grinned, "I definitely tasted something on the right one," he winked at me as he helped me fasten my corset while I held my tits into it.

"No, you must be mistaken them with another pair you've been sucking on behind my back," I joked, feigning playful jealousy, playfully grabbing his crotch as he was still standing behind me.

"Only those of my wife," he laughed, and playfully slapped me on my left arse cheek. I playfully jolted forward, covering my arse with both my hands teasing him. We walked our way to the bar with my heart racing with each step I took. I waited with him as he contributed generously to Alexei's leather folder. The few seconds that he needed felt endless. I was trying my best to hide the burst of anxiety as it took over me. He turned to kiss me on the cheeks smiling "later." I returned it, smiling to him "say hello to the other girls." His loud laugh filled the place.

Seeing him leave, I rushed to the changing room to check on my tits. Standing in front of the mirror, I pulled my right breast out and squeezed. Nothing came out. I tried the same with my left breast. Still, nothing came out. "He must be being silly," I thought to myself, trying again with my left breast. "Are they painful?" Dorris, Winston's wife, asked me. She was tidying and cleaning the girls' mess. I was standing in front of the mirror.

"Yes, a bit," I admitted to her. I then tried to fix myself.

"Try to rub coconut oil on them, I used to do it when I was nursing," she told me with a warm smile. I looked back at her and said nothing. Her words, unknown to her, had an icy chill to them.

"It is just one of those nights, nothing to worry about" I smiled at her and I pushed them under the tight corset all again and fixed my tassel waist band. I let my hair drop on my back and went back to the main hall. I sat by the bar crossing my legs and asked Alexei for a gin and tonic. Couple of men approached me, but then I wasn't really there... I smiled and giggled with the gentlemen, but my mind was somewhere else. I had to leave.

Walking my way, I kissed Big Teddy on the cheek. He was sitting on one of the leather sofas with some friends. "All is well?" he asked me, with a bit of concern. "All is good, just need to rush home," I answered him, not wanting those around to hear more. He nodded and I knew that he didn't really buy it.

Racing with an endless swirl of dark thoughts I rushed through the traffic lights one after the other. Murmurs of "no I am not,", "it just can't be,", "I never skipped a pill," were the echoes I swirled with, swirled into. Sometimes, possibilities can be unnerving. Those were petrifying.

Making it home, I rushed up the stairs, swiftly passing by the baffled babysitter. "Is everything alright?" she asked. Not that I remember answering her. Not that I remember hearing her words.

I rushed to the toilet, to the medicine cabinet looking for a pregnancy test strip. "I definitely have some somewhere..." I impatiently mumbled to myself as I plucked the different bottles and packs into a mess.

"I will be back soon," I told the still confused babysitter, "everything is OK, I will not be long," I continued rushing by her down the stairs. I dashed to the nearest 24-hours supermarket, to the pharmacy section.

The cold neon lights added a further dimension to the emptiness. I felt the weight of being followed by the stares of a rugged middle aged man. He showed no shame in closely watching a woman, in platform sandal heels and a raincoat, going through the birth control section at 2 in the morning. A glee was what I saw when I stared him back in the eye as I turned away, hastening my steps towards the toilets. I didn't have the fortune of patience to wait until I got home.

Not that I had the fortune of dignity when I found that the women's toilet was locked and I had to go to the men's, into a cubicle that desperately needed some cleaning. I tried to squat on the toilet seat, not to sit. I couldn't. I had to sit down. I felt the yellowish droplets on my thighs and arse cheeks. Few nights ago, I had it splashing on me for the fun of it. Now I am sitting in it. The blurred line between a decadent pleasure and an obnoxious reality has blurred into the abyss... I peed on the strip, holding it under me, making sure I covered it all.

I stood up, trying my best to keep my clothes from touching the wet toilet seat. My thong was stretching between my knees as I stood waiting, wearing the seconds for the marker lines to appear.

It was negative.

A sigh of relief escaped my lips and I sat back on the toilet seat. I pulled my hair off my face, behind my ears, trying to catch a sense of reality. I took a deep breath for a second, for two, before standing again. I pulled my thong on and fixed my skirt down. I then covered what I had left of self respect under my raincoat and walked out. I went to the cashier to pay, to the car, to head home.

But then the bleak dust devil refused to settle. Sitting in the car, the what ifs returned in the murmuring silence of the night. "What if I didn't pee enough," "what if it was defective,", "what if I had to wait more?"

I switched the engine off, pulled my hair into a ponytail and with a deep sigh, I gathered myself and went back in. I walked my way back to the same toilet. The same sodden cubicle but a new strip.

It was negative.

My sense of relief was only matched by that of joy, perhaps with a bit of invincibility. This time, I left the store with an upright stride. Walking by the rugged middle aged man, I winked goodnight at him. I wonder if that night, he masturbated remembering what he had witnessed.

Working in the club, I have lost count of how many men I have opened my legs for. How many of them released in me. But then, how free was the breeze of the night! I undid my hair, letting it careless with the wind and I drove home.

By the time I made it, it was three in the morning. The babysitter was sleeping on the sofa. I left her undisturbed and headed up to my room. I passed by my kids room, they were also deep asleep. I closed the door and continued to mine.

"What was he all about then?" I asked myself, as I checked my breasts in front of the toilet's mirror. I took my right breast in both hands, and kneaded on it. Nothing came out. Though when I did the same to my left, I felt a bit of stickiness on my nipple. Tasting my fingers, it had that peculiar sweet taste. I went back to the room, to my wardrobe. I started searching for my breast pump only to find it all forgotten in one of the boxes under my bed.

I sat on my bedside, and reached for my right breast. I rubbed some of my saliva on my areola before putting the suckling cup on and starting the pump. In a few moments of memories, a familiar twinge made me moan with a bit of pain. The cup tightened into my areola, pulling on my nipple. I bit on my teeth, resisting the pain, first hitting my thigh. "Fuckkkkk" I groaned in pain. My red nails dug deep into my thigh's flesh.

But then it was a bit too much. I turned the pump off. A deep moan of pain "aaaiihhh" escaped my lips as I bite on my right palm, as I arduously peeled the cup of my breast with my left hand. Rubbing my hard erect nipple with my palm, soothing it a bit, I felt that stickiness all again. The few droplets it released, had the same sweetness all again.

I threw myself backward on the bed. My tits shuddered with me. I put my hands on my face, rubbing my eyes and pulling my hair back. I didn't know what to do.

Out of thoughts, I decided to reach for my phone and snap a picture of my right breast. It showed the "BT" tattoo on my pale heavy breast and my thick dark areola. It showed a faint sticky thread stretching between my index and my hard nipple.

I snapped the picture and sent it to Ted on Whatsapp, even though some of my bedroom and bedside table, and what's on it, appeared in the frame...

"Did you get knocked up?" he texted back.

"No." I responded.

"?" he simply asked.

"Lactating," I texted back.

He responded with two emojis of baby milk-bottles and that of a cow.

"Lol" I texted back.

I turned around, put the phone by the bedside table and turned off the night lamp. Reaching for the cover, I tugged it over me, as I turned to my side. I reached with my hand and slapped my pussy whispering "good girl." With a smile on my face I drifted off asleep.

To be continued.