Spilled Milk

I woke up first the morning after we made love for the first time. I wanted to stay in bed and just look at her, but I knew I needed some time to absorb what had happened between us. She was fifteen years older than me. Forty-two. She lived across the street from me, and I lusted after her for years. From the moment she and her husband moved in, with her short sundresses that showed off those perfect, tanned legs... Over forty or not, she blew away most of the girls my age without contest.

Then she and the hubby got a divorce, and she was living alone. So I offered my services around the house. Mowing the lawn, fixing leaks, whatever she needed done, I was right there ready to please. A little extra money never hurt, and it gave me a chance to see her up close and personal. Although I never really expected to get as personal as we did.

She came into the dining room, where I sat at the table with a glass of milk. She trailed her hand along my bare shoulders and I looked up at her as she passed. Her hair was up, still messy from sleep. She wore a loose white robe, the halves open just enough that I could see she wasn't wearing anything underneath it. We exchanged good-mornings and she went into the kitchen. I found myself staring at her legs as she passed.

She brought back a glass of milk and sat in the chair cater-corner from mine. She crossed her legs, the edges of the robe falling off her thigh, and slipped one hand into her robe. She cupped her breast and shrugged her shoulder, pulling it free. She brushed her thumb over the pink nipple and I remembered sucking, biting, licking it the night before. I also remembered what she had said while I was working on her tit: "That's a good baby. Suck momma's nipple."

She dipped her index finger into the milk and brought it to her lightly-tanned skin. She circled her nipple, painting the skin with the milk. When she pulled her finger away, one bead of white hung like a pearl on her erect nipple. I looked up at her face, her lips parted with anticipation. She was breathing hard, her throat and chest flushed as she waited to see what I would do.

I pushed my chair back and dropped to my knees, crawling to her. I parted her legs and sat between them, leaning in to kiss the inside curve of her breast. Her fingers ran through my hair, as I kissed my way closer to the milk. I moved my hands up and down her thighs, and finally closed my mouth around her nipple. I swept it with my tongue, tasting the milk, and gave it a good suck.

She whimpered quietly above me and then whispered encouragement. I pulled my head back, and she applied another coat of milk to herself with the tip of her middle finger, then sucked the excess from the digit. I immediately bowed my head again and sucked her clean.

My cock was tenting my boxer shorts, and I pulled it through the fly to take some of the pressure off. She picked up the milk glass and held it against the upper swell of her breast. She tilted it slightly, and a wave of white washed down toward my mouth. I licked her breast as best I could, some of the milk dripping down to her thigh. I laved her tit, sucked it as if it was the source of the milk, and brushed her thigh with my hands to gather the milk that I didn't catch the first time.

I brought my milky fingers up to her mouth and she sucked them clean. I wrapped my other hand around my cock, stroking it to full erection as I watched her pink tongue swirl around my fingers. My cock twitched, jealous, I suppose, and I stood up and pulled her to her feet. Even though she was older, she had a look of trust and... I don't know, I guess submission in her eyes. I kissed her hard and she moaned, moving her hand to my cock. For a moment, we both stroked it, our fingers threaded together, and I finally, reluctantly, stepped back. I turned her around and pushed her down onto the table.

She gripped the edge of the table with both hands, looked at me over her shoulder, and I pushed her robe up and out of the way. I ran my hand over the curve of her ass with one hand, pushing my boxers down and off with the other. I moved closer and felt the warm embrace of her pussy lips against my shaft. I spread her lips with my fingers and guided myself into her.

I closed my eyes as I felt her closing around me. It was still unique and new, the feel of her pussy, and I looked forward to getting to know how she felt in every room of the house, at all times of the day. I wrapped one arm around her waist and cupped her with my hand, brushing her clit with my fingers. She drew in a sharp breath and said my name, pushing her ass against my hips.

I grabbed the collar of her robe and pulled it down but not off, pinning her arms in bands of silk, and picked up her glass of milk. I poured it onto her shoulders and bent down, licking it off with long strokes of my tongue.

Finally, when I felt my orgasm coming, I pulled out and gasped what I wanted her to do. She turned around and dropped to her knees, wrapping her hand around my cock. A few quick strokes, her thumb running back and forth across the head of my cock, and I came. I arched my back and closed my eyes, and when I looked again, ropy strings of come decorated her lips and cheeks. She licked her lips and looked up at me, and I pushed my hand through her hair. She smiled up at me, and I picked up the glass of milk. There were only a few drops left, so I drank it and held the milk in my mouth.

She kissed her way up my body, pausing to nip at my chest with her teeth, and then she kissed me. We passed the milk back and forth until it was gone, her body molded to mine, my cock captured tight and warm between our bodies. I kissed her closed eyes and sighed, my hands cupping her ass. She pulled away from me, her hand sliding down to mine, and she stepped back. I let her guide me out of the kitchen and we returned to the bathroom where we washed away the remnants of the milk from earlier.

When we got out, she brought the milk from the kitchen and nursed me again. I'll never forget kneeling beside her bed, her hands in my hair as I sucked milk from her tit. I had no idea why it aroused me so much, but eventually all she had to do was offer me a glass of milk and my cock twitched in my jeans. It became our thing, our kink, the special little thing we did whenever we could get away with it.

It's been a few years now, and we've both moved on to new lovers. But when I bow my head to my wife's breast, when I roll my tongue along her pebbled nipples, I can't help but wish that they were seeping with fresh, warm milk.