"Hi David, have you got a mo?"
Whenever Bec had something important to say she'd call me, but not tell me until we met face to face. I knew, though, she'd have thought through whatever it was, and would get to the point without too much preamble. There'd often be a distraction or two, depending how horny she was, but she'd always get to the point in her practical way, eventually.
"Any clues?"
"No. Other than Danny is with Grace at Day Care, and she'll drop him back home around five."
I looked at my watch. Just gone eleven. "I'll come right over." Bec was planning a long, milky afternoon, lots of play, lots of sex, and whatever it was she wanted to talk about. "See you in twenty."
It seemed with Bec that I was always at her beck and call. Somehow our lives fitted together without too much complication. Working from home helped, my time very much my own, appointments easily rescheduled. She drew me like a moth to a flame.
Her body fitted against mine, too. I'd ring the bell, the door would open and she'd press up against me with a fierce passion, pushing me back against the wall, just as she'd done as the sporty fit teenager all those years ago at the Rec Centre on a Friday night.
"It's deliberate," she said. "It's a trigger. I know if my mood is a little bit off, I just need to press myself hard against you, and I'm suddenly horny. It never fails. See."
She put the chain on the door, and took two steps back. Sure enough, her hard nipples centred on a widening circle of milk through her top, as she let down.
"I've conditioned myself, now. It's just fucking wonderful, the way my breasts do this, as soon as I think what we're going to do. The only thing I need to do is think of us, and my breasts are weeping. In minutes!"
She sounded amazed by her body, how it reacted. I was no different, a low ache would start in my cock whenever I thought of her.
She pulled my shirt up from my pants, didn't bother undoing buttons. She pulled the shirt off my shoulders and threw it onto the couch.
Some days, she greeted me with her torso bare naked, and I knew she'd been horny for hours and had given up on keeping clothes dry. Today though, I watched, continually fascinated, as the dark wet circles spread like two growing targets on her tank top. Bec liked the hot sticky cling of the milky cloth against her body, and when she peeled the top off, up over her head, she rubbed it over my bare chest, my face, so I smelled of her. She pressed herself against me again, clinging to me, her limbs intertwined with mine, her big full breasts already beading, beginning to drip with milk.
Her mouth was hungry and we clung to each other, my cock thick against the hard place of her belly. If we paced ourselves right, I'd come twice, so we could have a range of delights. Bec had two full breasts too, so everything was multiplied. I'd only been there two minutes and wanted her, endlessly. Her passion was straightforward, honest. She wanted to feel alive, craved for, her lush, animal body drowning in its own carnality. I wanted to drown in her, so together, it worked out well for the both of us.
"What is it Bec, that you wanted to tell me?"
She pushed me backwards to a chair looking out over the little private courtyard at the rear of her apartment. Sun streamed in, the summer warmth making our half nakedness comfortable. By some unspoken rule, we'd often delay our full nakedness together, enjoying the constriction and tangle of jeans and skirts, or track pants, whatever she was wearing. "Sometimes, it's because I've not done the washing yet."
Sometimes, it was playing clumsy young lovers, remembering when we were much younger. She'd ask me, "What did you do with her, David?"
And re-enact some earlier girlfriend for me. She had a delight, I think, in being more than one woman for me, taking me back to each one, one by one. She'd grin, and press her breasts together into a deep cleavage. "Sorry I can't do the small tit girls for you, David. Anyway, they'd have wanted big boobs like mine; just wouldn't say."
There was one thing for certain about Bec - no body image issues, none at all.
"This body," she'd say, looking at herself in a mirror, "is pretty fucking hot. Fuck me hard, David, and when you've done that, love me slow."
Pushing me back with one hand on my shoulder, Bec sat on my lap, her thighs each side of my hips. She ground her centre down hard onto my groin, and the thickness and constriction of my cock in tight jeans made me feel like a teenager at endless blue-balled parties, necking behind a curtain, grinding in the back seat of a car. Her animal lust thickened me. She grinned.
"We never did this at the Rec Centre, did we? Can you imagine?"
She'd always sat on my lap, back then, facing away from me. She'd rub the side of her breast against my arm, but would sit up straight if anyone came by. The flip of her pleated netball skirt hid the backwards press of her cunny and her ass, back against my crotch. No-one knew, yet we did it every Friday night that year, when I was her safe older man, and she learned her young sexuality. Now though, she was thirty, a hot and hungry young mum, still vibrant and sensual, now able to get what she wanted. Bec pulled her hair back into a tight pony tail, to get it up out of the way.
She leaned forward, teasing up a thick nipple between her fingers to get beads of milk pearling, and she placed that breast into my mouth. "Feed from me, baby, drink me."
I suckled on Bec's nipple, and she sighed as her milk let down, filling my mouth. She stroked my hair gently as I sucked on the hot nub.
"Ohhhh, baby, that's lovely. I love feeding you from my milky tits. Hmmmmm. Be greedy, honey. Take the whole breast. We can play with the other one later."
But she played with it anyway, as I fed from her milky tit. I opened my eyes to see beads of milk on the nipple, and looked up to see her, gazing down at me. "Sshhhh, honey, keep drinking." Bec's voice was soft, her eyes gentle.
The early afternoon sun was warm on our skin. She stroked my hair quietly as I emptied her breast, content with the warm sweet milk filling my belly. Bec took the empty fleshy breast into her hand. "These are amazing," she said, "the amount of milk I make.
"I need to wean Danny," she went on, without any preamble. "He's taking solids really well, and he's nearly one, which is when I wanted to feed him to." She continued to stroke my hair, running her fingers through it.
"But I don't want to lose this, with you. It's too filthy, too much fun, it's just... I'm not giving it up, not yet. Not now." Her hand stopped moving. "I wonder how much milk I do make? I guess I'll find out, coz I don't expect you to replace Danny. Bottles, I'll need bottles.
"Anyway, that's what I wanted to say. I thought you should know, because, well... you're a bit essential to my life right now and, if it's all right with you, I'd like you to stick around."
She looked into my eyes and there was that guileless girl I knew from long ago. When Bec wanted something, in her practical way she just got on with it. Not that I was going to say no, but...
"How long -"
"No," she interrupted me quickly with a finger on my lips. "Not now. Another time, maybe, but not now. Too much thinking isn't good for us.
"Although," she said, "I do think I want to be naked. And drip milk on you when you're lying on your back. On the floor, with your fingers up in my pussy. Shall we do that?"
I laughed. "You're right. Sometimes thinking makes things far too complicated."
She got up from my lap, and laid a towel out on the floor. Always thinking ahead, Bec.
