***
Author's Note: This is the beginning of a much longer story I'd written years ago, so I figured I'd just upload it as a long-time Literotica reader/first-time poster situation. Like many of my other stories that will likely be posted, this deals with interracial relationships of all kinds, so if that's not your cup of tea it's best just to bail now. I also don't tiptoe around race or sociopolitical viewpoints in general, so again, if you fall too far one way or another on any social spectrum, don't bother with my stories. Thanks.
***
Oblivious prey; she had no idea what was in store for her.
I'd been watching her for weeks now, observing her daily routine, watching her cavort around without seemingly a care in the world. Watching her walk through life as if I wasn't stalking her intently.
She was a proud specimen, tall and mahogany, thick braids running down to her shoulders. An athlete's build to be sure, with thick thighs and slightly wider shoulders, high calves, and sculpted arms. Her ass was nice and fat without the oft-present cellulite on others of the same size, and it rolled magnificently in her tight yoga pants. A narrow waist, toned midsection, and pretty face were all well and good to round out the package, but they weren't my target. Her sweet, luscious, dick-sucking lips would surely turn a man of my inclinations on in any other situation, but again, I was after something greater. Well, some
things
greater, to be more direct.
This chick had a rack. Not in a "Oh, those are nice" blip on a breast man's radar, more of a "Sweet fucking goodness, I just blew my load" type of way. They were magnificent, and try as she might, there was no hiding those jugs. She was wearing an active tank-top to go with the yoga pants as she'd just come from the gym, but the top and sports bra underneath struggled mightily to keep her chest from bobbling about. Struggled and failed, as I watched her chest bounce with each step. The weather was nice and warm, but even at my distance I could see the two distinct peaks of her fat nipples poking through the layers of restrictive clothing. That brickhouse of a body was rocking G-cups at the very least, and sitting in the stroller directly in front of her was the likely reason.
Despite her fit-looking body, the woman had given birth a few months back and was also obviously nursing. She was gifted with extraordinary milk tanks as a result, and that cream was my ultimate goal. I'd been a lactophile since I was a teen, the result of a random comedy sketch suggesting a busty waitress using her own milk as coffee creamer. The idea excited me immensely, turning an existing obsession with all things mammary into a desperate need to see them perform their intended function. These things weren't ever to be discussed as I grew up, one of the many consequences of growing up in a near-stifling Asian household. Therein was the kicker: I wanted this woman so badly my balls ached, but the odds of me conquering her were slim-to-none.
I didn't need to know much about her to know what she'd probably think of me. Not that I'm unattractive in any way, mind you, I just knew her type. I'd struck out countless times with girls like her, none of them expecting the Korean boy trying to "hit" ever being capable of doing so. I'd worked out religiously, getting so cut I looked like an NBA player. I had the tattoos, swagger, and pretty boy charm to match, but it got me damned near nothing with them other than an occasional "you're cute". A 6'2", hyper-fit, well-funded lawyer meant nothing to them, and everyone knew why.
So what's a guy supposed to do? Ever since Shonda Washington flashed me behind the bleachers on a dare, I'd made up my mind on what I liked and who I liked them on. I'd wanted Black girls right around the same time I realized how much I loved tits, but getting either proved difficult, while both was nearly impossible. Even if I was desperate enough to turn to family for visual assistance, my mom, sister, and virtually all my female relatives were severely lacking up front. I also go to learn the hard way that just because the internet will give you plenty of fantasy material, sometimes reality lets you know precisely how much a fantasy it'll remain. Well, after years of swinging and missing whilst my thirst only grew, I saw fit to quench it myself.
Her physical prowess notwithstanding, my prey led a predictable lifestyle. She left her decent-sized suburban home around nine each day, hit the gym for an hour, then went shopping at the local farmer's market for produce. After having lunch at one of the many eateries in the town square, she'd always drive to a secluded spot near the river to nurse her child. She'd stay in her sedan, keeping the heavily tinted windows up high enough to block view of what she was doing, but low enough to keep the fresh spring breeze flowing through the vehicle. Once the child was fed, she was off to her house to change, then back out to a local community college to teach evening classes. She'd arrive home around eight or nine each night, and rarely was the husband around at that time. Three locations where she was guaranteed to be, and three locations to see my desires through.
I watched her push the stroller back to her car after lunch, her ass cheeks fighting to be freed from their lycra prison. I lost myself in their bounce for a while, imagining them slapping against my hips as I rode her like a mare in the rodeo. She'd be a feisty one to tame, that much I knew just from the way the muscles in her calves tensed with each step. It would be a battle, but one that I'd put every bit of my physique into winning. I watched her load the baby up then hop into her sedan, so at that point I made my way into the forest.
I knew her spot very well, knew where she always parked and why. Our town was safe, near-Utopian with regards to crime. Everything sordid went down nearly thirty miles away, so she wasn't coming to the park for safety: She came for privacy. She didn't want people seeing her unleash those gigantic baby feeders, didn't want the leering eyes that she was guaranteed to earn from even
hinting
that she was opening the tap on her milk tanks. I can't say that I blame her, as the older men that frequent the park were bound to strike up seemingly innocent conversations just to get a glimpse of her bounty. Unfortunately for her, that nice, secluded spot for would in turn be her undoing.
I took my time working through the foliage, as I knew the circuitous park roads she had to drive afforded me plenty of time. I made sure that my bandana was nice and snug over the lower part of my face, checked to make sure my sleeve tattoos were covered, then took a selfie to verify that my sunglasses hid any hint of my eyes. Everything was good; I looked the proper criminal. Even so, my heart still raced at the danger involved. Here I was, a successful lawyer, and I was about to commit an act scummier than most of the scumbags I'd represented would even consider. I reconsidered for a moment, the rational part of my brain kicking in after weeks of planning, but then her car pulled up.
I picked a copse of trees nearby where I could watch her, though little could be seen from the neck down. I could only guess what was going on beyond the dark tint, taking cues from her movements and the way that she looked down at what I assumed was the child sucking at her thick nozzles. After nearly twenty minutes of waiting patiently, my temper got the best of me.
"Lucky little son of a bitch," I muttered in jealousy, but I was apparently too loud. She turned quickly, scanning the brush nearby for the source of sound from an idiot who just didn't know how to be a proper criminal. I froze in response and hoped that she wouldn't spot me if I remained completely static, but the idea was somewhat half-cocked. I was wearing all black, and the trees were all a vibrant green.
"She's not a fucking T-Rex," I mentally admonished myself. "You're super-obvious, you dumbass."
She continued to look in my direction, and there we remained for an uncomfortable amount of time. She continued to search nervously, I continued to not move as best I could, and for a long time the only sound that could be heard was the river's burbling as the wind played through the leaves. Eventually the baby cried out, so when the mother looked down to attend to her child, I dropped to the ground and peered through a large bush.
She switched the baby to the other breast then just watched the child, apparently giving up on her search for the muttering pervert hiding in the bushes. A few minutes later the baby seemed to be done, so the mother covered up, hopped out of the car, then placed the already sleeping child in the backseat. This was when my prey typically spent a few minutes scrolling through her phone, so when she pulled the device up while lowering her window, I went on the offensive.
I slowly stood from the bushes, my heart practically cartwheeling out of my chest as I psyched myself up for what I was about to do. I moved slowly and deliberately out of the vegetation, but when she turned to look at a fox darting across a meadow to her right, I rushed forward, quickly closing the distance to the car door.
"Who are..." she started, but I reached through the window then completely lowered the glass.
"Don't fucking worry about who I am," I growled back. I reached into the car and snatched her keys away, placing them on the roof of the vehicle before looking back down at her. There was a moment of silence as I lost myself in her cleavage, practically a canyon of tit flesh leading down into her top.
"What...what do you want?" she asked meekly, "I don't have any cash, but you can take my phone if that's what you're after. I'll give you the car if you want, just please don't hurt me or my son."
