My name is Rick Reynolds and I run a small two-person insurance agency. Besides myself, the only other employee is my secretary, Jasma.
Jasma is the 18 year old daughter of my best friend, Tom. Jasma is a delightful 4 ft. 11 inch black woman-child with petite hands and feet, but everything is offset by her mammoth torpedo tits and ample ass. Although I try not to notice her attributes as she bustles about the office, I can't help sneaking a glance now and then at her skin tight ribbed sweaters and knit slacks that reveal a jiggle in her butt that screams "thong!"
Last year, Jasma got knocked up by her boyfriend, who then ran out on her. The family decided to have the baby on religious grounds, and I held Jasma's position open for her upon her return.
Today, Jasma came back to work for the first time in three months. She was wearing a light grey v-neck sweater and matching tight grey slacks. The pregnancy weight was almost gone, but I noticed she had the top clasp of her slacks undone to accommodate things.
What I noticed even more strikingly, was the fact that Jasma's fat chocolate jugs were even bigger than when she left, no doubt swollen with breast milk. They stood straight out in her tight top, and there was a hint of puffiness outlined on her ribbed sweater. Jasma wore a large gold chain that swung and bounced into her cleavage as she bustled about the office.
All day today I tried to stay behind the desk, embarrassed that my hard-on would become noticeable to my friend's teenage daughter. At one point, Jasma leaned over me to read a report I found, and it was all I could do to keep from ripping her top off.
At the end of the day, Jasma went into the common bathroom. I could hear quiet sniffling and became concerned for her welfare.
I locked the front door and knocked on the bathroom door.
"Everything O.K. in there?" I inquired.
There was no answer, so I gently tried the knob, and the door swung open.
Jasma stood facing the sink, rubbing her abdomen with one hand and lightly touching her breasts with the other. She glanced at my presence in the mirror.
"They-they hurt, Mr. Reynolds." she said haltingly. "My-my breasts feel so swollen."
Her words were like a thunderclap to my crotch, and my prick immediately sprang to full erection.
"It's alright, honey." I reassured her. "But if you're going to bottle feed your kid you need to get that milk out of there somehow."
I fought to control the tone of my voice, but I knew if I touched her I'd cum in my pants.
"What-what do you mean?" she said slowly.
