Tammy

Tammy was breathing heavily at the end of her exhausting morning workout. The beautiful, tanned, blue-eyed blonde's curls had come loose and gave her a cute, messy look. She loved staying fit and taking care of herself and looked a decade younger than her actual 27.

She had barely caught her breath when suddenly her nipples became sensitive and stiff, protruding angrily through her sports bra and moments away from dripping rich, creamy milk and staining her last good work-out top. It was feeding time. From down the hall - almost in unison with the growing pressure in her breasts - came cries from her son. Over the past several months, little Josh had developed a ravenous appetite and her formerly supple but small breasts had grown two cup sizes and insisted on overproducing milk. Tammy didn't mind. She rather enjoyed the Pavlovian relationship that had developed between her child's cries and her body. She relished the tenderness of feeding her only son, the sensitivity of her breasts as they produced, the uniquely feminine aspect of the whole thing made her gush.

"shhh shhh shh there we go.." she comforted him as he fed. She knew the time was coming to wean the child, but her breasts had showed no sign of slowing down.

Amazingly, her body seemed to be increasing it's production.

The same could not be said about Richard. Her husband had always been an attentive lover, and Tammy particularly enjoyed the attention he paid to her nipples, but ever since the pregnancy he had claimed to be grossed out by breast milk, exclaiming how eager he was for her to stop. Her increased libido and almost instantaneous recovery (and, Dr. Albright was quick to warn, hormonally elevated fertility) were being completely lost on her husband's phobia of her breasts. It hurt her deeply to feel unattractive to the father of her child. The only man she had ever known now struggled to be attracted to her, and was spending longer and longer hours at the office instead of servicing his wife and helping her raise their child. She sighed, burped her son, and tried not to think about the ever present dampness between her thighs.

The rest of the morning saw her struggle through chores before she surrendered and paid the shower head a visit. The gorgeously built little blonde mom stripped out of her skin-tight workout shorts and bra - the cups sticky and wet - and stepped into the shower. Her ass, thighs, and breasts bouncing firmly with each minor motion, beckoning for a lover that wasn't there. She spent the next fifteen minutes chasing bliss as her hands explored her body. In her mind, brief flashes of random arousal from her week: the dark skinned contractor Richard had hired that had shamelessly eyed her up and down, the "miss u tons" text from Neiva that reminded her of their secret drunk make-out sessions in college, Richard's hard 6" cock..the cock that had made her a woman and a mother. And, persistently, as the warm water made the squirming wife whimper and beg, a brief moment with the black 18 year-old boy from down the street, who had showed up sweaty and shirtless and seemingly enormous on her doorstep, looking for an overthrown football. Tammy had opened the door without thinking, in a workout outfit that preceded her tastefully thicc motherly figure and accentuated every crease, every curve, and contained her swollen cleavage in only the most minimal of ways. Tammy was greeted by a slab of towering abs, pecs and biceps that instantly made her feel vulnerable. She had absent mindedly and obviously looked him over, unable to form words, her nipples painfully engorged and wetting her bra, her eyes locking into the impossible shape in his shorts. An unknown number of seconds passed before she regained her senses and looked up to the young man's eyes, his face in a knowing smile..

The poor frustrated blonde wife thrusted hard against the warm shower head assaulting her flower, the soft rubber jets arranged as a spiral felt like a giant tongue against her clit. Her mind was it's own spiral of Neiva's expert tongue all those years ago, Richards fantastic hard-on, the scent of the young black man's sweat... that last sensory memory invaded the rest of her senses as she slipped two fingers into her tight folds and gave in completely to her imaginary teen lover. What his grip must feel like, his strength, his laugh, his eyes looking into hers...his dangerously virile seed filling her ready womb...

"OH JESUSSSS FFFucK!!" she screamed, her body contorting in ecstasy, a deep orgasm ripping from her womb to her toes, milk pulsing from her swollen breasts..

She lay there for a moment, confused and guilty and hornier than before..feeling impossibly empty. The young man's imagined grip of her flesh still a burning sensation on her skin. She purred in exhausted satisfaction.

Suddenly a strong thud from above her ceiling came down, and across the skylight rolled a football. Then the bell rang.

TBC