Disclaimer:
While a part two, prior reading is not necessarily required, but is helpful for context.
This is a work of fiction. The events contained herein are not real and do not reflect on the people they are based on. All characters are 18+.
Characters:
Yanet (based on Instagram model Yanet Garcia)
Wendy (based on model Wendy Fiore)
Flash (based on Blacked star)
The rain was at a torrential pour when Yanet arrived. She quickly scurried through the pouring rain to the front porch. The large French door was locked; she rang the doorbell. After a moment, the front foyer illuminated with light from the high-hanging chandelier, and she saw a figure materialize behind the door. She shivered, clasping her arms together as she huddled for warmth in her large fur coat.
"Yanet! Oh my God, come in. It's awful out there!" Wendy exclaimed as she ushered her guest inside. She took her coat and placed it on a large garment rack mounted to the wall.
"Sorry it took me so long to get here. Traffic was awful and know how these people drive on the rain," Yanet groaned.
"Please, I'm a native--I know," Wendy retorted with a knowing smirk. Go have a seat on the couch by the hearth; I'll be right in. Wine?"
"Er, yes, prosecco, please."
Wendy nodded and made her way to the kitchen.
Yanet walked in the dark, expansive living room. It was unabashedly modern a large sectional sofa, loveseat, and two armchair populated the space. The walls were adorned with floating bookshelves with an impressive number of volumes residing on them. A large classic fireplace stood on the far wall, providingthe sole source of light. It smelled like smoke and cedar.
"Wine?" Wendy said as she nudged Yanet with a glass.
"Oh, thank you," she replied, gratefully taking the glass from Wendy. The wine felt chilled in her hand.
"Of course."
Wendy passed her and took a spot in a corner on the couch. She was wearing a forest green robe. It was unfurled at the chest, the fabric barely concealing her massive breasts as they threatened to spill out. Her long, dark hair laid in her shoulders like heraldry. She took a sip of her wine as her eyes cut through Yanet like blades. They burned like green, dying embers.
"Come here, dear," Wendy said with a casual gesture.
Yanet obliged, padding softly on the carpet. The rain pattered against the large windows as the wind howled in its fury.
"Lay down," Wendy instructed softly. She patted her lap. "Here, I'll take your glass."
Yanet gingerly laid down on the couch, the back of her head resting on Wendy's lap. She had been in this position before once, and having been there a second time, decided it was a position she would never leave by choice, but only by necessity. Her view, looking up, was eclipsed by the massive tits hanging from above. Two mounds of soft, white flesh.
And, on this night, she would share them with no one.
"Let momma feed you," Wendy cooed softly, her voice dripping seduction. She pulled her left breast free from her robe, and guided it into the open, panting mouth of the woman beneath her.
Yanet imbibed eagerly with a thirst as she latched on to the teat. As the milk began to flow, she sucked with a feverence resemblance of the starving happening upon food for the first time in weeks.
Wendy moaned as her tit disgorged and the pressure abated. The feeling was near orgasmic release as her milk poured into the hungry young woman. She stroked her long luscious hair as she fed her.
"Men," Wendy began in a small whisper, "will realize that it is we that hold the power to their sexual gratification. They are for our use as much as we their's. Our bodies are designed to make them feel pleasure--make them feel good."
Yanet nodded in agreement, her mouth remaining latched to the succulent teat as Wendy spoke.
Wendy's hand left Yanet's hair, venturing down to her breasts and stomach. She felt the curves of the immaculately built body she had worked so ardently for. She thought of the perfect vessel she would soon be for her and Alton's child.
Her hand continued to venture lower. She slid it teasingly into the waistband of her sweatpants. The warmth emanating from it was pronounced like the dying embers of an old fire. She felt her hand tingle with anticipation at the possibility? of the wet, warm hole inside.
"Let mommy make you feel good," Wendy whispered into the ear of the still suckling woman. Her index finger found the warm, swollen clit.
"Fuck, mommy, that feels so good," Yanet moaned as she unlatched from Wendy's nipple. Milk began to run down her chin and neck, and pooled on her shirt.
Yanet rose from Wendy's lap and sat back on her haunches. Wendy assisted her with removing her milk soaked t-shirt as it clung to her breasts and stomach.
Wendy clasped her own substantial breasts in her hands. They seeped through her grip, their inadequate size futilely unable to contain them.
Yanet dropped to all fours. The flames emanated light that caused the soaked breasts to glisten in the spattering firelight. They looked inviting, full of her desires. She opened her hungry mouth to imbibe as she guided her mouth to them once more. She nursed eagerly, like a suckling babe seeking sustenance. A ravenous unquenchable hunger burned inside as she sucked.
"Eat, my dear. Eat," Wendy moaned.
Yanet dutifully obliged, inhaling the milk like air necessary for survival.
After some time, there was a knock on the front door. It went unacknowledged by the two women as they went about their lovemaking. The sounds of the rain pattering against the windows and skylights, smacking of lips on breasts, and moans of ecstasy drowned out the world.
There was a ring of a doorbell. It snapped Wendy out of her euphoria as the sound registered. "Shit...who...hold on a second."
