Article 108675 of alt.sex.stories:
From: trekfiend@aol.com (TrekFiend)
Subject: LACTOGENESIS L: The Sailor's Soiree, Part Two
Date: 22 Nov 1995 04:04:06 -0500
LACTOGENESIS L
THE SAILOR'S SOIREE
PART TWO
"Where is everybody?" asked Christine.
"We be early a bit," Edward replied. "My man Jonah here, he
like being first to come and last to leave."
"With any luck at all, good friend, I won't be the first to
come," Jonah cracked. Edward made the windows of the taxi vibrate with
his loud laughter. Chris was only mildly amused; she was still upset
with Jonah for having spiked her margaritas with Valium - or at least,
as upset as her tranquilized mood would allow.
"Come on, let me show you around," said Jonah, and with that
he practically dragged Chris by one wrist out of the cab. Chris was a
bit concerned by the amount of time it took to get her feet firmly
beneath her.
The threesome did not directly approach the front door of the
darkened cafe, but instead walked through a very narrow alley around
to the back. A particularly smelly dumpster almost completely occluded
a ratty screen door over a heavy wooden one that marked the back
entrance. Jonah used both fists to pound out a complicated rhythm on
the doorjamb which was clearly the entrance code. The inner door
opened a crack. Chris couldn't make out specifics in the dim light
beyond, but she could tell that whoever was guarding the entrance was
a very large person indeed. Jonah mumbled something incoherent, but
which sounded like French, and the door swung wide to admit them.
As Chris took the screen door from Jonah, who preceded her,
she was not prepared for how strong the spring on it would be. She let
go of it too soon, and the door slammed hard into her right side, her
breast on that side catching most of the impact. Chris's eyes went
wide with unexpected pain. That hurt, a lot! She suddenly realized
that both of her breasts were very tender, and had swollen enough over
the past hour or so to cause the straps of her bikini top to begin to
cut into her shoulders. At first she discounted it, thinking that
while on vacation it wouldn't be possible to maintain her normal
schedule of draining her breasts of their marvelous bounty, and so a
little discomfort was to be expected. Of course she hadn't been able
to bring along her milking chair or any of the other accessories she
usually used at home to keep her milk flowing freely. All she had with
her was a small hand-held breast pump - and that was back at the
hotel. She hadn't thought she'd need anything special; since having
left home she had relied on her mental control over her lactation
abilities to keep from becoming uncomfortably full. It seemed now that
her control was not doing the job, and she was becoming painfully
engorged. After a second or two of puzzlement - the last time she'd
been this over-full was that landmark first time in Dr. Ellis's office
- she attributed it to having been unknowingly pumped full of Valium,
and so was unconcerned. Besides, in her current condition, it was
biochemically impossible for her to be concerned about anything. When
the Valium wore off, she'd regain full control, she was sure. Until
then, she'd just have to squirt hard and long at her earliest
opportunity. As she felt her right breast throb in time to her pulse,
she hoped that opportunity would not be long in coming.
As she entered the back room, she saw that indeed, the person
at the door was huge. He had to be close to seven feet tall, with the
frame of a world-class bodybuilder. It almost bowled Chris over, then,
when she saw that atop this Arnold-like body was a head sporting a
face painted with outlandish cosmetics, a beehive blonde wig, and
baubles dangling from triply pierced ears. Oh, brother, she said to
herself. I thought I was prepared for anything. Something tells me
this is going to be one weird night. A transvestite bouncer. What's
next?
She got her answer within a few seconds. After greeting the
bouncer, Jonah turned to Chris and said, "Leslie here tells me there's
practically no one here yet. Why don't we take this opportunity to
grab something to eat? Experience has taught me that one should not
party on an empty stomach."
The suggestion started a rumble in Chris's stomach, and so she
nodded her assent. Jonah turned and roughly slammed open a pair of
double doors to his immediate left, making quite a racket in the
process. "Enrique, you old son of a bitch, are you in here?" he yelled
simultaneously.
A thin reedy tenor voice immediately rebounded from the large
kitchen beyond the double doors. "Hey! Fuck off, you gas-bloated spawn
of a venereal wart!" it said.
"Good to see you too, you spirochete," Jonah said as he caught
up in a bear hug a skinny, thickly mustachioed man who suddenly
appeared from behind a rack of hanging pots and pans. Chris made a
mental note. She was seeing quite a transformation starting to take
place in her young Jonah. The veneer of the polished, polite second
officer was peeling away to reveal an earthy, beer-swigging hedonist
beneath. So far she was intrigued by what she was seeing, but wasn't
sure she'd continue to like it as the evening progressed and the party
got wilder, as it was certain to do. She'd already decided to blow
Jonah off for having drugged her - she was beginning to see that she
might have to do so earlier than she'd originally thought.
Jonah broke the embrace and turned Enrique to face Chris.
"Enrique, this is the milker I told you about," he said.
What the hell kind of an introduction is that, Chris thought.
If I weren't so full of happy juice, I'd be pissed. She was therefore
surprised to hear herself laugh. She extended her hand. "I've never
been referred to quite like that before," she said. "I think I prefer
Christine."
"Of course," Enrique said, kissing the back of her hand. His
mustache tickled. It was all Chris could do to keep from drawing away
in reflex. "Leave it to Jonah to start getting crude before the first
beer has even been spilled."
"We're starved," Jonah complained. "Have you got anything back
here we can nibble on before the party gets going? Besides Christine,
I mean."
Enrique encircled Chris's shoulders with one arm and was
openly staring at her breasts. As always, when she felt eyes on her
bustline, her nipples became instantly erect, pushing against the
material of her bikini top and making the straps dig deeper into her
shoulders. Without glancing up, Enrique made a vague motion with the
other hand and said, "A tray of stuffed shrimp just came out of the
oven. Help yourself."
Jonah promptly disappeared deeper into the kitchen. Chris
tried to follow, but Enrique held her fast. "I'm wondering whether you
could do me a great favor before joining Jonah."
"That depends greatly on what it might be," replied Chris.
"I am currently working on a lobster bisque that is already
the best in these islands, but I'm looking for something that will
make it absolutely unique. I have run a bit short of cream, and I was
wondering if you might be able to provide the missing ingredient."
Where Enrique was still staring left no doubt as to what that
ingredient might be. Chris tried to be appalled at Enrique's
forwardness, but the Valium and her reconsideration of what this
evening was all about prevented her. In fact, she was surprised to
feel the mere suggestion of releasing her milk trigger the familiar
tingle which signalled a pending letdown. The tingling grew rapidly in
intensity until Chris knew that her top would soon be soaked if she
didn't try to close down the letdown mentally. She invoked her usual
procedure and went wide-eyed when to her dismay it failed to lessen
the building sensation. She realized that she had better do something
fast.
She smiled and said, "I've always wanted to be part of a
culinary masterpiece. Lead the way, Monsieur Chef."
Enrique responded with a lecherous grin and led her through
the large kitchen to a huge stove, atop which was a large pot. The
unmistakable smell of lobster bisque steamed from it. Jonah was
nowhere to be found.
Enrique handed Chris a glass measuring cup and indicated the
door to a pantry off to one side, suggesting that she could go there
and express the milk privately. Chris knew there wasn't time for that,
and decided to give Enrique a show. Wordlessly, she pushed away the
offered cup, reached behind her neck, and untied the straps to her
bikini top. As soon as it fell away, her nipples grew to full erection
and immediately began dripping milk at a fairly rapid pace. Enrique's
lips peeled back from his teeth in shock at the view before him.
Chris turned to the pot, which Enrique hurriedly uncovered.
The warm steam rising from it curled about Chris's burgeoning boobs,
which her height placed just above the edge of the pot. The moisture
and heat acted just like a hot shower, kicking the letdown reflex into
high gear. Milk began streaming from Chris's nipples even before she
had a chance to begin milking herself. The force of the twin blasts
striking the inside surface of the pot made the same sort of sound
that milking a cow into a metal bucket makes. Her milk made white
swirls in the bubbling surface of the bisque as it poured in from
above. Chris closed her eyes against the rising pleasure of the
release and began tugging hard on her nipples, feeling her fingers
grow slippery and milk running along her hands and down her upper arms
as she worked. Somewhere in the fog of her building orgasm - Boy, this
is a quick one, she thought distantly - she felt another pair of hands
on her breasts and dimly realized that Enrique was standing behind
her, gently trying to replace her hands with his own. She let her arms
drop to her sides as Enrique took over the task. He was surprising
adept at coaxing jet after jet of milk from her throbbing breasts,
squeezing and tugging as fast as he could. The flow continued unabated
for what seemed like forever and was probably actually a good ten
minutes before Chris finally gave in to the orgasm she had been trying
to keep at bay. Enrique felt her buttocks tighten and tremble against
him as she whimpered and shuddered and came, her breasts giving up a
final, amazingly long, solid arc of milk as her climax reached its
peak. The maxi-pad Chris had donned before leaving the hotel just
barely was enough to contain the force and volume of her southern
squirt. It was now completely soaked and completely useless.
Chris came down quickly from the orgasm, blinked her eyes
open, and noted with some satisfaction that the liquid level in the
pot had risen appreciably. Her wondrous, milk-slick breasts gleamed
proudly in the dim light of the kitchen, her nipples refusing to lose
their thick erection. Enrique, oddly, was now completely ignoring
Chris and was instead staring down into the pot of lobster bisque,
stirring it almost as if caressing it, and frequently sampling it, his
eyes closed in gastronomic bliss. Chris knew then that Enrique's was a
food fetish, and vaguely wondered what other "unique ingredients"
might be in his other dishes.
Seeing Enrique's fixation on his bisque, she knew that trying
to communicate with him was pointless, and so as she corralled her
bosom back into the bikini top (which miraculously was still dry), she
looked around for Jonah. She found the tray of stuffed shrimp Enrique
had mentioned, untouched. She wolfed a few down. There was a tang in
the stuffing she could not identify and wasn't sure she wanted to. A
quick inspection of the rest of the kitchen could not turn up her
escort. She realized with a start that she was now on her own. Briefly
she considered using the opportunity to make a strategic retreat, but
remembered that had no money with her. She would be alone at night in
Montego Bay trying to hitch a ride to Negril. Not a good idea.
Besides, her animal side, boosted by the lack of inhibitions the
Valium was still providing, was still growling within, telling her not
to miss the party but to become the hit of it. She could already feel
her breasts refilling. The night was young. She decided to make it
even more memorable than it already was.
Chris found the double doors marking the entrance to the rest
of the cafe. She stood there for a few seconds, then suddenly reached
into her slacks, removed the soaked maxi-pad, and threw it into a
corner, where it landed with a soggy splat. She took a deep breath,
stripped off her bikini top, and stuffed it into the pocket of her
windbreaker, which, unzipped as it was, now only barely covered her
upper body. Her tightened nipples pointed the way as she stepped
through the doors and into the heart of the Sailors' Soiree.
"Geronimo," she whispered.
Article 108618 of alt.sex.stories:
From: trekfiend@aol.com (TrekFiend)
Subject: LACTOGENESIS LI: The Sailors' Soiree, Part Three
Date: 22 Nov 1995 04:59:10 -0500
LACTOGENESIS LI
THE SAILORS' SOIREE
PART THREE
What surprised Christine the most upon emerging from the
kitchen into the main room of the cafe was the immediate increase in
the ambient noise level. The double doors through which she strode had
to be soundproof, because the racket that greeted her entrance was
sudden and almost mind-numbingly loud. Where did all these people come
from? she thought, mildly confused. When we arrived there was almost
no one here. How long was I milking into that pot of lobster bisque
anyway? The clock on the wall was no help, since she hadn't noted the
time when they arrived, but it told her that it was already well past
ten p.m. The raucousness of the crowd told her that she had already
missed the party's preliminaries.
The party had broken up into a series of mini-parties, each
with one of the cafe's very large circular tables as its focus. People
seemed to have gravitated toward particular areas; there was very
little traffic between tables. Chris found herself to be essentially
the only "social butterfly" in the room. As she came closer to the
nearest table, she saw that each table was a sort of miniature stage,
with a different activity going on atop it. It didn't take but a
moment to realize that each activity was intensely sexual in nature.
Another moment later Chris realized that even though her incredible,
bare breasts were in almost full view, covered only by her unzipped
windbreaker, her state of undress was more the norm than the
exception. People were dressed (or not) in all manner of costume,
reminiscent of Mardi Gras or Carnaval. Feathers, sequins, lame',
rhinestones, beads, and gewgaws of all descriptions dotted bodies all
over the room, male and female alike. I'm *really* underdressed, Chris
thought, then laughed aloud at her inadvertent play on words. Her
curiosity and her animal side drew her toward the nearest table, from
which very little noise was emanating.
As Chris approached the first table, all she could see were
the backs of several men, all bent over and clustered about the center
of the table. A woman's head and shoulders stuck out above the group;
she was evidently sitting on the tabletop. She appeared to be nude.
The look on her face was that of the cat who'd eaten the canary. She
was stroking the heads of two of the many men who surrounded her. As
Chris got close enough to see through the crowd, she gaped. The
woman's breasts were of a size that the word "elephantine" was barely
adequate to describe. Each was at least the size of a large
watermelon; Chris couldn't think of anything appropriate to compare
them to exactly. Her areolae were the size of saucers, and they were
capped with nipples the size and shape of upside-down cupcakes. The
men were busy quietly caressing and kissing these monstrous mammaries,
the ragged scars on which gave away their artificiality. Some of the
men were openly masturbating. The woman had to be carrying gallons of
silicone inside her. She was sitting Indian-style, but her lap was
completely obscured by the huge globes of tit-flesh that rested on it.
Just at that moment one of the men grunted and came, shooting an arc
of semen onto one immense nipple, just missing the cheek of another
man. The woman smiled and winked at Chris, who smiled weakly in
return, turned, and proceeded to the next table.
Sitting atop the second table was a pair of nude women, both
dark haired, very thin, and fairly flat-chested. As Chris approached
and was able to make out their facial features more clearly, she saw
that they were twin sisters. One was in the process of wiping the last
vestiges of what appeared to be shaving cream from her crotch with a
damp towel, which she handed to one of the men who were sitting in a
ring around the circular table. She had evidently just finished
shaving off her pubic hair as her sister had also done. From the same
man the woman received two identical rubber penises attached to flat
rubber bases to which were glued thatches of fake black hair such as
what one might find on a Halloween fright wig. She handed one to her
sister, then took from the man a large tube of what appeared to be
some type of adhesive. She and her sister smeared copious amounts of
this material on the bases of their dildos, glued them to their naked
pubes, and adjusted them so that the penises pointed downward. They
then began taunting the men surrounding them, stroking their "members"
and cooing suggestive come-ons at them. Chris surmised that they were
simply waiting for the adhesive to set before proceeding. From a safe
distance she watched as the women spat on their fingers and used the
saliva to lubricate their labia (although from the looks of it,
supplementary secretions were hardly necessary). They then positioned
themselves crotch to crotch, facing in opposite directions, and
inserted their attached penises into the other's vagina. With
practiced precision they moved against each other, the dildoes sliding
out the same distance from each gaping slit and then disappearing
completely from view as their pussies slammed together with a wet
squishing sound. Chris winced in sympathetic pain as she saw the skin
of their pubes where the penises were attached stretch under the
strain, particularly as the women neared orgasm and clamped their
vaginal muscles more tightly around their toys. The men cheered them
on. The two nearest the panting mouths of the twins liberated cocks
glistening with pre-come which the women promptly swallowed whole.
Chris found herself stroking her own bald cunt outside of her slacks
as she watched. Her animal side was telling her that she needed to
stop being an observer and start being a participant. Her more
rational side was almost ready to acquiesce, but was insisting that a
different forum be found. So she moved on.
At the third table the centerpiece was a transsexual who was
receiving a blow job from a large man wearing a wig and earrings.
Chris recognized the latter as the bouncer who had greeted them at the
back door of the cafe. In addition, two women were frantically sucking
on the transsexual's budding breasts, which though developing nicely,
had not yet lost their masculine qualities. Definitely not my cup of
tea, Chris thought, and continued on.
At the fourth table a crowd of both men and women was watching
a man dressed in an oversized baby bonnet who was lying on his back on
the table as a nude, large-breasted woman was finishing smearing baby
oil on his shaved, erect penis that was ten inches long if it was a
millimeter. She then dusted the shining pork sword with powder and
finished fastening a large diaper around the man. Chris marveled at
the woman's strength as she then lifted the man's upper body off the
table and cradled him in her arms. He made gurgling noises - amusing
to Chris because they were supposed to emulate a baby's vocalizations
but had a baritone pitch - and sought out the woman's nipple, where he
latched on and began nursing avidly. Now this is a little more up my
alley, Chris thought as she made her way to the front of the crowd.
From her improved vantage point, Chris noticed that the nursing part
of the man's fantasy was just that - a fantasy. The woman was not
producing any milk. Chris decided she would do something wicked. She
stood up straight and opened her windbreaker, allowing her magnificent
milk machines to come into view. This caught the woman's eye, and she
smiled. The man looked at Chris out of the corner of his eye but did
nothing. Chris then cupped her full breasts, squeezed, and shot
multiple streams of hot milk across the table, splashing both
participants. The man immediately sat bolt upright, knocking the woman
backward, and thrust both arms out toward Chris, who merely laughed
and quickly backed away. The man fell into the crowd in his haste to
reach Chris, but by that time she had made good her escape. I like
nursing men, she thought, but I'm not into infantilism. She realized
too late that she shouldn't have let only one squirt of milk go,
because now that stimulation had kicked her breasts into high gear.
She could feel them reaching maximum capacity and knew she'd have to
do something fast, even if it meant revisiting Enrique's pot of
lobster bisque and topping it off with more mother's milk.
Fortunately, what eventually transpired at the fifth table,
which was off in a far corner, was enough to make her end her search.
Here was where Christine would make her mark, where she would put on a
sexual show that would have people talking about the 1995 party for a
long time to come.
From: trekfiend@aol.com (TrekFiend)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Lactogenesis LII
Date: 18 Aug 1996 00:01:49 -0400
LACTOGENESIS LII
The Friendly Competition
Atop the fifth table was a stunningly lovely Thai girl,
probably just barely of legal age, although with this crowd it was
difficult for Christine to tell what was legal and what (or who)
wasn't. She was in the final stages of an exotic dance, removing a
sequine-studded G-string to reveal a pussy adorned with a V-shaped
strip of painstakingly shaved pubic hair. Chris was amazed at the size
and fleshiness of the girl's labia, the inner lips of which were large
enough to dangle down from her crotch and sway slightly as she moved.
Small, brightly colored baubles hung from them by tiny clamps; the
labia themselves were not pierced. Intrigued, Chris moved closer.
The girl completed her dance to the appreciative applause of
the group that surrounded the circular table. Chris was surprised at
how much more quiet and reserved this group was from the hooting,
hollering hordes that surrounded the other tables. The girl smiled and
sat, her heels close in to her butt and her knees spread wide. Chris
almost gasped at the sight which was revealed by this action. The
girl's cunt was, in a word, cavernous. Nestled between a pair of
perfect thighs was a ragged, gaping hole which looked for all the
world like a train tunnel surrounded by raw meat. As Chris watched,
the girl contracted her vaginal muscles.
To Chris's amazement, the huge void between the girl's legs
started to shrink. The dangling inner labia appeared to withdraw
behind the outer lips, which then closed over a ruby-red clit that was
pulled back under its hood like a turtle's head under its shell. When
the contraction was over the girl's pussy actually looked like it
might be slightly smaller than average.
Chris had never seen that kind of muscular control. She prided
herself on the strength of her own pubococcygeus muscle, which she
used to control the force and velocity of her ejaculations and clamp
down hard on the cocks of her lovers, but she certainly couldn't
control the size of her vaginal opening to the inordinate degree this
young lady had just demonstrated. Her intrigue began to turn into
arousal; her animal side knew that somehow, some way, she had to be
part of what was going on at this table. Her rationale side, now just
a distant flicker of its normal self, wondered why this girl, out of
all the unusual sexual activity happening around her, should "pull her
trigger", so to speak. Was it the heightened sexual tension that was
resulting from her almost painfully full breasts? That hardly seemed
likely. How many dozens of times over the past year and a half had she
experienced this same sensation of fullness without succumbing to it,
ripping her clothes off, and fucking and spraying down the first man
(or woman, for that matter) she saw? Why should it be any different
now? She searched for the signs of residual Valium in her bloodstream
and found none. The drug Jonah (whom she still hadn't seen since they
arrived) slipped her had worn off unnoticed some time before. Perhaps
it was all the pheromones in the air - indeed, among the smells of
tobacco and cannabis, beer and food, the odor of raw sex hung heavy in
the atmosphere.
Chris became vaguely aware of fingertips caressing her nipples
into bullet-hard erections and realized they were her own. Her
windbreaker was in a pile on the floor, leaving her naked from the
waist up. She hadn't remembered removing it. The girl on the table was
now staring directly at Chris, fondling herself and getting very wet.
The girl shifted her gaze to a man standing near her. "Thirsty," she
said, and pointed to an untouched bottle of beer in the man's hand.
He smiled and handed it to her. Rather than placing it to her
lips and drinking, however, the girl rocked back on her tailbone,
folded her legs beneath her, and deftly inserted the beer bottle into
her cunt until only the bottom half protruded. The crowd gasped;
Chris's eyes went wide. The girl then let go of the bottle, holding it
in place with her powerful muscles, and arched her hips upward. The
crowd watched in silent amazement as the beer inside the bottle
disappeared just as if someone were chugging it.
Within seconds the bottle was empty. The girl removed it; her
pussy lips closed tightly behind it, keeping a full twelve ounces of
beer inside. She then motioned to a woman standing in the crowd who
was dressed in red satin outfit embroidered in the Oriental fashion.
Her companion, no doubt, Chris figured. From seemingly nowhere the
woman produced three hard-boiled eggs, which the girl promptly
inserted, one by one, into her pussy. Not a drop of beer was spilled;
the eggs almost looked like they were being sucked up into the girl's
vagina. Chris, with the last shred of her rational side that remained,
was thinking that this must be one of those Bangkok girls she'd heard
of, those girls that can open beer bottles, smoke cigarettes, or carry
razor blades with their talented twats. Her animal side, far and away
the most prominent now, wanted to leap up on the table and add a few
ounces of breast milk to the mixture within this girl's apparently
bottomless cunt. It was just waiting for the right opportunity...
The girl closed her eyes and with one index finger teased open
the uppermost portion of her lower lips, exposing a glistening red
clit which she began to massage gently. Her hips began moving to some
unheard rhythm, rolling up and down like swells on the ocean. One
could almost hear everything inside her sloshing about. The woman in
the red satin motioned to the people standing directly in front of the
girl, warning them that they might want to stand aside. Foam began to
appear around the girl's pussy lips. Suddenly the muscles in the
girl's abdomen tensed, and one of the eggs shot out of her cunt and
rolled off the edge of the table.
She arched her hips higher and fired the second one in a long
graceful arc where it struck a fellow standing at another table in the
back of the head. Laughter erupted as he turned to try to find the
source of the missile. The girl then lay flat on the table and brought
her legs up near her head so that her genitals were directed upward.
She tensed, and with a loud whoosh the third egg was propelled
straight up at the top of a column of froth as she ejected the beer
from her vagina in a single blast.
One young gentleman did not get out of the way fast enough and
received the falling column full in the chest, soaking him to the
skin. More laughter and another round of applause followed. The girl
sat up and bowed her head in acknowledgement.
"Hell, I can squirt like that - from three places - and I
don't need any beer to do it," Chris muttered, feeling a little
jealous of this girl's talents and the attention she was receiving.
Here Chris was standing with clearly the firmest, most shapely pair of
breasts and nipples in the room fully exposed, and no one was giving
her a second look. Since The Accident Chris had grown used to being
the sexual center of attention whenever she unleashed her formidable
mammaries, but here such exhibitionism was commonplace.
She hadn't intended for her comment to be heard, but several
people standing in her immediate vicinity turned to look at her. The
girl on the table was once again staring as well. I must have shouted
it, Chris thought.
"Sounds like a challenge to me," one of the men said.
"I'd certainly like to see that," a female voice piped up.
"How's about it, sweetheart?" came another voice.
The girl now had a look of defiance in her eyes. "No need
beer," she said challengingly.
The woman in red satin made her way around the table to stand
in front of Chris. "What about a little friendly competition? Best
squirter wins?" She turned to the people around the table, rubbing
thumb and forefingers together. "Shall we make it interesting?" Within
seconds a pile of bills, mixed American and Jamaican money, appeared
on the tabletop. The girl scooted over on the table and patted the
area next to her, indicating that Chris should join her.
Chris's rational side succumbed totally at this invitation.
She was running on full animal instinct now, just as she had at the
Decade Eight wet T-shirt contest all those months ago. In seconds
Chris was completely nude, sitting next to the Thai girl, her bald
beaver already drooling in anticipation. Chris brought her hands to
her mouth, wet her fingers, and resumed caressing her nipples. The
coolness from the evaporating moisture caused her erections to reach
near record proportions. It was all she could do to keep milk from
spurting out prematurely.
The two women began masturbating, each soon becoming oblivious
to the other and the crowd around them. Chris couldn't help cooing and
moaning as her fingers found those touch points that through many
hours of self pleasuring she knew would bring her off quickly but
deeply. Her thumb ran circles around her clit as two fingers explored
the ventral wall of her vagina, searching for the bump of swollen
tissue that marked her G-spot. The green tablecloth developed a dark
stain under Chris's ass as she got wetter and wetter. She could feel
milk beginning to run down the sides of her breasts and along her rib
cage as she leaned back to get better penetration with her fingers.
She dimly heard some exclamations as the crowd saw this, and distantly
felt fingers scoop up the rivulets of milk as they coursed along her
skin, presumably to taste it.
Chris could feel the energy of the crowd surround and permeate
her as she built toward orgasm. She felt them silently urging her on;
she felt as if they were with her and not her competitor. She heard
the girl hissing as she too approached orgasm, so she purposely began
moaning louder to drown her out. Her breasts felt hot, stretched, as
if they would pop. The milk sang in her breasts, churning inexorably
toward the gates of her nipples, with the irresistability of a tidal
wave. With a loud yell she opened those gates, spouting geysers of
milk upward and outward as a river of molten desire burst from her
pussy just as Chris contracted her muscles, heightening her orgasm and
tightening the stream of emerging pussy juice into a high-velocity
blast that caught a man who had purposely placed himself in harm's way
full on his extended tongue. He sputtered slightly, not having
expected that much volume, but smiled and said in a loud voice, "Well,
it sure ain't piss!"
Chris didn't hear him. She collapsed back onto the tabletop,
her hands now frantically milking her breasts, sending jets of milk
that rivaled Old Faithful in their height and volume into the air as
she continued coming. Juice dribbled from her trembling pussy as she
slowly began to resolve from the pinnacle of her orgasm, one of her
better ones in a long time.
Just as her milk began to slow to a trickle, the girl next to
her reached her zenith. With a keening banshee wail she came, firing a
thin, ropelike stream of fluid from her pussy, which had once again
reached mammoth proportions as she slammed almost her entire fist into
it. The same man who had caught Chris's ejaculate had his face down
near the girl's cunt now as well, but he drew back quickly just in
time to be missed by her stream. "Hey!" he yelled. "That came out her
pee hole! She's just pissin'!" Indeed, with the girl's pussy spread
so wide, it was easy to tell that her ejaculate had a golden tint -
clearly urine.
The man who had made the initial suggestion of the challenge
took one of Chris's now limp, wet hands from her heaving breast and
thrust it into the air. "I believe we have a winner!" he exclaimed,
and a third round of applause arose. Chris sat up slowly, smiled her
appreciation, and without another word dropped down onto the floor
where she quickly put her slacks and windbreaker back on. As she
collected the wad of bills from the tabletop (I wonder how much is
here, she wondered), she saw that the crowd was already scattering,
off to find the next new thrill. Left behind was the Thai girl, who
was leaning against the woman in red satin, her face showing close to
tears, her lower lip trembling. The woman was staring at Chris with a
look that could freeze helium. As Chris watched, she motioned two
large men over to her and began whispering into their ears,
occasionally glancing back over at Chris with a deep scowl.
Chris, her wits fully about her again, began looking about for
Jonah or Edward. Something told her it was time to leave the party,
and the sooner the better.
Subject: Lactogenesis LVIII
From: trekfiend@aol.com (TrekFiend)
Date: 1996/08/18
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
LACTOGENESIS LVIII
The Reunion
Christine glanced again at the scrap of paper on the seat next
to her, referring for the umpteenth time to the directions Janine had
given her to her apartment. She looked up again just in time to catch
the turnoff that would take her to Janine's complex. She cursed
softly, for a number of reasons. First, she'd had to make a sharp
turn, causing the driver behind her to slam on his brakes. Second, a
rapid temperature drop and an unexpected couple of inches of snow had
slowed her progress more than she'd anticipated it would. Third, she
was very late. Janine was hosting a little get-together for the ladies
of the Lac-Station that had been scheduled to begin almost forty-five
minutes ago. Chris was running late not just because of the snow but
also because of a little accident she'd had. She'd come out of the
shower, walked naked into her bedroom, and sat down on the bed next to
the outfit she'd laid out there for the party. As she bent over to
pick a pair of panties off the floor, she'd spontaneously let down and
squirted milk all over the dress she'd picked out. She'd had to
quickly rinse out the dress and select another outfit.
This kind of thing was happening to her more and more often
these days. Her ability to mentally control her lactation was
completely gone, and she was beginning to understand what it must be
like for "normal" women to deal with having milk-filled breasts. Her
production rate seemed to have gone haywire, too; she was never sure
when she would next need to pump.
She'd finally decided that she needed to resume wearing the
nursing bras she'd bought when her milk had first come in, before
she'd learned to control it. She'd had to dig deep into her lingerie
drawer to find them, and then she'd had to make a detour to the drug
store to buy some nursing pads. She hated how she looked now; the
unflattering bra ruined the line of her magnificent figure, and the
pads made her fantastic breasts look strangely shaped. All this had
made her late, which was frustrating.
Mixed in with the frustration was a healthy dose of concern
about what was happening to her body. Why, suddenly, was having milk
starting to become more of a hassle than the sensual, sexually
liberating experience it had been for almost two years? Had the
galactogogue that Jonah had slipped her along with the Valium during
the drive from Negril permanently screwed up her endocrine system?
(Had that really happened almost three weeks ago now?) Why was she
sometimes getting just a couple of ounces during some milking sessions
while at other times she could extract half a liter? Why didn't
manipulating her breasts automatically cause her to orgasm intensely
as it had since the first few days after The Accident? She was still
coming almost every time, which still meant at least a few orgasms a
day, but the frequency was beginning to noticeably decrease. She made
a mental note to voice her concern to Sherri when she next saw her.
The thought of Sherri immediately caused a flood of warmth to
rush through Chris's breasts and crotch. She was slightly surprised at
the intensity of the feeling; she, who prior to The Accident had
thought herself a firmly entrenched heterosexual, now couldn't wait to
get Sherri into her bed. Chris had not had an opportunity to see her
since having returned from her Jamaica trip, and she missed her friend
and sometime lover badly. She was also looking forward to seeing her
fellow colleagues again; a few she hadn't seen since some weeks before
the trip. In fact, she was not at all sure of the status of the Lac-
Station, which was a secondary reason why she was so interested in
attending Janine's little kaffee klatsch.
She stole one more quick look at the paper with the directions
on it for the building and apartment number. She found a parking spot
and carefully climbed the stairs to Janine's apartment. Her
frustration at being late vanished when she heard the laughter of her
associates through the door. She raised a mittened fist to tap on the
door, but it opened in mid-gesture. Janine greeted her in a roomy
sweater and skin-tight slacks, with her trademark grin and a steaming
cup of hot cider, complete with cinnamon stick.
"When I heard footsteps on the landing, I just knew it had to
be you, darlin'. Come right in, we're all here. Just toss your coat on
the kitchen table and join us in the living room. I'm taking this in
before it gets cold... " and away she went.
Chris did as she was invited. The living room was dominated by
two large sofas, facing each other with a coffee table between them.
Seated there were Eleanor, Monique, Janine, and... Sherri. When
Chris's eyes landed on her, Sherri bounded up, rushed over, and caught
Chris up in a hug. The pressure of the embrace pushed the milk in
Chris's breasts near the fore, and absently she hoped she wouldn't
soak the pads quite this soon. An electric charge shot from her pussy
to her nipples as she felt Sherri's body press into hers. It was all
she could do to keep the hug short and friendly and not just melt into
Sherri's arms in front of everyone.
"God, I've missed you," Chris whispered in Sherri's ear.
"I hope you show me how much later on," she whispered back.
"Welcome back, hon," she said aloud.
"Gosh, Chris, you don't look as tan as I thought you'd be,"
Janine said. "Did it rain in Jamaica?"
"No, I just didn't get to lay out as much as I would have
liked," Chris replied. "As beautiful as Jamaica was, I'm kind of glad
to be back, snow notwithstanding."
She seated herself next to Sherri and accepted a cup of cider
from Janine. "I'm also glad you're all here today. I have been
wondering what's up with the business. I've been back more than two
weeks and haven't gotten a single call from Jeremy. My fridge is
almost at capacity with bottles of milk. Is he pissed at me for having
spent so much of his money on the vacation?"
The other women passed looks back and forth, as if waiting for
someone else to be the first to speak. Chris noticed immediately.
"What? Am I fired? Is that it?"
"No, not at all," said Monique. "Not exactly, anyway."
The silence grew and became awkward. "Well, come on, you
guys," said Chris. "I'm a big girl."
Finally Eleanor spoke up. "Well, there's no easy way to say
it, so I'll just say it. I'm afraid the Lac-Station is no more."
Chris almost choked on her cider. "Wha-aat? I was only gone a
couple of weeks! What happened?"
"It was nobody's fault, really," Monique stated flatly. "We've
all just... developed other agendas, that's all."
"What Monique is trying to say is that one by one, we've all
decided we don't want to do this any more," Eleanor said. "I for one
was getting pretty disgusted with all those twisted people Jeremy kept
introducing me to. I joined the group really for just one purpose - to
provide milk to mothers who couldn't nurse at a price that undercut
the milk banks. If I had to do the occasional kinky, but expensive,
thing to keep that price low, I considered it a minor evil. Finally I
decided that Jeremy was asking too much, and my husband didn't
appreciate it much, either, so I left the group." Addressing Monique's
frown in her direction, Eleanor added, "I acknowledge that I was the
first to leave, but I categorically deny causing the demise of the
company."
"I wasn't accusing you," Chris said softly.
"No, *you* weren't," Eleanor said sharply, staring at Monique.
"Well, what did cause it?" asked Chris.
"I suppose I was next to go. You see," Janine said, blushing
slightly, "I've met someone."
The other women, except Monique, smiled. Chris, knowing of
Janine's situation as a single mother, was very pleased. "Who's the
lucky fellow?" she asked enthusiastically.
"His name's Geoffrey. He started out being a client," Janine
replied. "He was a patient at the hospital, in for a heart transplant.
Poor guy's only 31, but his heart was a mess. I couldn't even begin to
pronounce what he had. Anyway, he was having a lot of trouble with
rejection - I mean his immune system went crazy after the operation.
His doctors had read a study in which patients who are immuno...
immuno... "
"... compromised," Eleanor assisted.
"Right. ... can benefit from having mother's milk as a part of
their diet during recovery."
Eleanor chimed in. "Evidently the idea is that these people
have immune systems that are kind of like a newborn's, so why not
provide the same kind of thing that they use to get strong?"
Chris shrugged. "Sounds reasonable." She turned back to
Janine. "Well? So?"
"Well, anyway, I became one of Geoff's milk donors. One day I
decided to visit him in the hospital, and took him some myself. He
started off by telling me he preferred the taste of my milk over all
the others - as if he could tell," Janine said, giggling.
"We got to talking, and before too long we'd told each other
our life histories. We started kinda dating right there in the
hospital. I got to where I was seeing him a couple of times a day."
She blushed again. "I even started nursing him - seemed kinda silly to
go home, pump the milk, and bring it back. Well, that turned us on so
much we actually did the deed right there in his room, even though he
wasn't supposed to do anything stressful. The rest, as they say, is
history. We're in love. I couldn't see myself basically turning tricks
for Jeremy now that Geoff and I are together."
"I'll bet Jeremy was pissed when you told him," Chris said.
"Yeah, he was. My timing was lousy. Eleanor had just quit the
day before," Janine said. "But screw Jeremy. I'm in love for the first
time in years, to a guy who loves me, my kid, and my milk. Couldn't
ask for a better situation, especially since the doctors have given
Geoff a clean bill of health."
"So that's why the company's kaput? Couldn't Jeremy find two
replacements?" Chris asked.
"Three," Sherri said. "I quit too."
Chris was dumbfounded. That seemed impossible. Sherri, with
her wild and wooly sexual style, was perfectly suited for the kinkier
aspects of working for the Lac-Station. She had been the only one of
the five of them who had had to work really hard to induce lactation:
Janine and Eleanor had had babies; Monique apparently had some sort of
physiological predisposition toward galactorrhea; and Chris, of
course, had had The Accident. Sherri had been so turned on by Chris's
having milk that she'd embarked on an arduous regimen that had paid
off admirably, to where Sherri's 40-plus-year-old breasts were
producing milk like a 20-year-old mother of twins. Lactating had
become the centerpiece of Sherri's sexual existence, and Jeremy had
been providing her with every conceivable means to exercise her new
talents. How could she just quit?
"I got my reasons, which I'm not going to talk about right
now," Sherri said, also staring at Monique, and Chris realized she'd
voiced her question out loud.
"Yes, I'll admit I was very upset with all of you for just
backing out on Jeremy like you did," said Monique petulantly, ever
Jeremy's defender. "But I've since come to realize that you have every
right to quit any time you want to. Jeremy and I have decided to carry
on, just the two of us, unless that is, you want to continue, Chris?
You were, after all, the Lac-Station's charter member."
The question took Chris by surprise. Until just a couple of
minutes ago, she had assumed that she would be taking up her duties at
the Lac-Station again at any time. Now it sounded like there really
wasn't any Lac-Station any more, and suddenly that was not a bad
thing. Her decision was immediate, and easier than she thought it
would be.
"No, I don't think so. I went on that vacation to get away,
and now I find I don't want to come back. I'll be honest, Monique,
Jeremy was a lousy boss. He just didn't know how to treat his
employees very well. Throwing me over for you didn't help much,
either, but to tell the truth, he felt more like my pimp than a
partner in a business." There were murmurs of assent from Eleanor,
Janine, and Sherri. "I think it was inevitable that we each found
something better and moved on."
"And what have you found that's so much better?" Monique asked
pointedly.
After a moment's thought, Chris said, "I guess, my personal
freedom."
"Amen, girl," Sherri said, raising her cup. The others raised
theirs in toast, and after a few seconds, Monique raised hers as well.
Article 95287 of alt.sex.stories:
From: trekfiend@aol.com (TrekFiend)
Subject: LACTOGENESIS LIII: THE ESCAPE {milk, ff, crowd}
Date: 30 Nov 1995 03:51:02 -0500
LACTOGENESIS LIII
THE ESCAPE
Christine walked over to the cafe's dimly lit bar and grabbed
a handful of cocktail napkins, which she used to wipe off the droplets
of mother's milk which still adorned her face, neck and chest. She
pulled her open windbreaker aside and quickly surveyed her upturned
breasts. Drops of milk still clung to her thick nipples. She dabbed
them away, but they quickly reappeared. I can't still be full after
the show I put on, she thought. Well, I can't be walking around
dripping like a leaky faucet. Let's see if this'll work now...
She tried to ignore the cacophony surrounding her from the
party that was still going full blast in the cafe as she invoked the
mental discipline that she had used to control her extraordinary milk
production since only a few weeks after The Accident. Thoughts of arid
places or a total lack of moisture, coupled with some autonomic
commands to her pituitary, hypothalamus, and mammary epithelium that
never reach a level of conscious awareness were usually enough to stop
the milk. Drier than dry, Chris said to herself as she went into a
high alpha state of awareness. The surface of the moon. The cold
reaches of space where any liquid flashes to molecules in the
vacuum... Chris completed the exercise and again looked down at her
breasts. To her dismay drops of milk were rolling off the tips of her
nipples and running down the lower slopes of her bosom. It hadn't
worked. She was sure that the Valium Jonah had slipped her, which had
interfered the last time she'd tried to shut down, had long since worn
off - unless that crafty bastard had also included a galactogogue in
the mix! She remembered from all the reading she had done after the
unexpected development of her lactogenesis that there were drugs
available which stimulated milk production; they were sometimes used
in nursing mothers when all else failed. If her already overzealous
glands received a pharmacologic stimulus, who knew what the result
might be? Evidently she was finding out. Yes, she could feel the
familiar warmth and heaviness in her breasts build fractionally just
within these last few minutes. She swore under her breath, cursing
Jonah for turning her into a human dairy. She had no idea how long it
would take for the stimulant to wear off, but she didn't want to wait
around in this place while it did. She wanted very much to be back in
her hotel room, reclining in the whirlpool tub, letting the milk
stream into the warm water while her body slowly returned to normal.
For any other woman, even an actively lactating one, that would still
be extranormal, but at least Chris's body would once again be under
her full control.
Chris blinked, startled by a loud rapping on the bar. She
looked up and found the bartender staring quizzically at her, waiting
for her drink order. She asked for a mimosa. While she waited, she
stuffed more napkins into her windbreaker and zipped it up, hoping
that the makeshift "nursing pads" would stay in place until she was
able to be alone. She looked ridiculous with the wads of paper making
her large bust look irregularly shaped, but she didn't care. The less
attractive she looked right now, the better. She received her mimosa
and began sipping absently while scanning the large room for either
Jonah or Edward. She had still not seen either of them since the
incident in the kitchen. It was when she stopped searching with her
eyes and started with her ears that she was able to filter the
unmistakable sound of Edward's booming laugh from the myriad of other
sounds which filled the room. She finally spotted him standing by the
table that had earlier showcased the twins and their stick-on toys.
She wondered why she hadn't seen him there before.
Chris began threading her way across the room toward Edward,
who was talking with several people and had not yet seen her approach.
She was less than a dozen feet away when a very drunk woman stumbled
and fell directly in her path. Startled, Chris changed direction
abruptly and collided head-on with a large, muscular man. She started
to mumble an apology, then realized that this was one of the woman-
in-red-satin's henchmen. He immediately fixed her upper arms in a
viselike grip which no amount of struggling would break. He was joined
by the other man Chris had seen the Red Satin Woman talking to just
after Chris had won her contest with the Thai girl, who was obviously
in the Red Satin Woman's employ. Each took an arm and, oblivious to
Chris's struggles and shouts for assistance (which were lost in the
din), backed her against a nearby wall. There the woman in red satin
joined them, the same deep scowl still on her face. The Thai girl was
nowhere to be seen.
"Look, if this is about the money I won, take it. I don't
care," Chris said. "It's in my pants pocket... ", and she tried to
reach for it.
"Hold her, boys," the woman commanded, and Chris found her
arms gently but firmly pinned to the wall. She tried to kick, but her
legs were also held against the wall by the two men's more muscular
ones.
The woman stepped close enough to Chris to be heard over the
party. "Screaming or spitting won't help, if you're considering
those," she said. "The people here will think it's just another kink."
Chris realized she was probably right, and stopped struggling. "Looks
more like the money's stuffed in your coat." The woman ripped the
zipper on Chris's jacket down, and the napkins spilled out. Chris's
naked bosom heaved with her breathing, her breasts thrust out and
apart by the way her arms were positioned. With the napkins gone, her
nipples once again began leaking milk.
"What a little heifer you are," the woman said, only partly
with contempt. "But to business. I don't appreciate what you did to my
girl, humiliating her like you did. I wanted to make sure you knew
that."
"Just take the money. I meant no harm, believe me."
"Oh, I know you didn't, which is why I'm going to let you
leave here in one piece tonight. Understand this - I don't ordinarily
do so, and it's only because I appreciate your considerable talents
that I'm being magnanimous."
"Then let me go so I can give you the money."
"All in good time, dearie. I plan on having a little fun
first." As she spoke, the woman took one red satin gloved finger and
traced the amazing curves of Chris's breasts. Chris tried to pull away
but was held fast.
"Please... " she whispered, but she was not heard.
The woman turned and gestured to a young man standing nearby.
He disappeared into the kitchen to return seconds later holding a tin
can whose top had been crudely punctured by something other than a can
opener.
He handed the can to the woman, who approached Chris with it.
"I happen to like chocolate milk myself," she purred.
She tipped the can over Chris's tits, and a drizzle of
chocolate syrup came out. She targeted Chris's nipples perfectly. The
syrup mixed with the milk that was dripping from them and flowed down
her boobs and stomach to where it began to stain her slacks. The woman
bent down and began to lick the mixture from Chris's boobs and
nipples. Despite her discomfort, Chris couldn't deny that this woman
had a talented tongue. She began to become aroused in spite of
herself. She felt a new surge of milk welling up inside her and soon
was almost fully engorged. The woman somehow seemed to sense this, for
just as the drops from Chris's nipples turned into streams, she sucked
one nipple deep into her mouth. Chris's breast instantly responded,
sending a jet of hot milk into the woman's mouth. She drank greedily,
stopping every so often to alternate breasts and pour more syrup on
the swollen nipples. Whenever she released a nipple, milk sprayed
forward with such force and volume that it got the attention of
several people standing nearby.
"Come on, everyone, there's enough for all!" the woman cried.
Chris could only watch incredulously as people actually began lining
up to have a taste of her chocolate mother's milk. Two by two the
people came up to her, waited until the woman had coated Chris's
nipples with chocolate, and then sucked hungrily, getting at least a
couple of mouthfuls before being pushed away by the people behind
them. Chris continued to pour forth, even after several people had
drunk their fill. The sensation of all those different mouths touching
her, the different styles and intensities of their sucking, was
getting to Chris; she could feel her pussy begin to get slick with
juice. She was beginning to fade into that familiar fog of pre-
orgasmic bliss, even as she continued to protest with as loud a voice
as she could muster.
Suddenly, Chris saw the woman in red satin get shoved sideways
with considerable force. She flew into the crowd, and several people
ended up in a heap on the floor. Next she heard a heavy glass object
shatter in close proximity to her head, accompanied by a wet crunch
and milliseconds later a ragged scream of agony. Her right arm was
released. She glanced up to see one side of the muscular man's face
now a bloody pulp, pieces of broken glass protruding sickeningly from
it. With her free hand she swung to her left and punched with all her
force at the other goon's testicles. He let go of her other arm and
crumpled to the floor. Chris was free. Suddenly her arm was grabbed
again, but this time by Edward, who had appeared seemingly out of
nowhere. In his free hand he held the bloodied handle of what used to
be a beer mug.
The next few minutes were a blur to Chris. She let herself be
half-led, half-dragged out of the restaurant by Edward, who threw her
into the back of his cab and took off in haste. Chris, in all the
confusion, thought she even heard gunfire in their wake, but wasn't
sure. Maybe it had just been the cab backfiring...
Soon the hum of the cab's engine was the only sound. It was a
huge relief from the constant blast of sound that had assaulted Chris
for the last few hours. She sat up in the back seat and took stock of
herself. Her slacks were a mess of chocolate syrup, mother's milk, and
blood. She had blood on the side of her face as well. None of it was
her own, she was happy to learn after doing a quick inventory. Her
still naked torso was smeared with chocolate and saliva. The money in
her slacks was gone. She looked like the sole survivor of a Friday the
13th movie, and felt like it too.
"Thank you, Edward. You're a life saver," she managed to croak
out. Her throat was raw from all the shouting she had been doing.
"You don't know the half of it," Edward replied over his
shoulder.
"That woman, I've seen her. She wouldn't have let you go so
easy, not without drawing some blood. I saw you just in time, I
think." He chuckled. "I guess it wouldn't have been the same party if
something like this hadn't happened tonight."
"Where the hell was Jonah during all this?" Chris asked. She
was angry at not having had a chance to confront him.
"Playing strip poker in another room," Edward replied. "My man
Jonah, he got the gambling jones. He probably was so into his game he
didn't hear a thing." He looked at Chris in the rear view mirror.
"Jees, mon, you look like the devil's whore herself. Now you just sit
back and close your eyes and let old Edward take you back home."
"With pleasure," Chris sighed, sinking back in the seat.
"Thank you again, Edward."
"It's what I live for, dear lady," he said, and chuckled
again.
Article 111830 of alt.sex.stories:
From: trekfiend@aol.com (TrekFiend)
Subject: LACTOGENESIS LIV: THE CLEARING {milk, mast}
Date: 5 Dec 1995 03:50:24 -0500
LACTOGENESIS LIV
THE CLEARING
Christine stirred and began the process of returning to the
world of the living. Though she was only now beginning to awaken,
details began filtering in despite her closed eyelids. Judging from
her seated position, she was still in the back seat of Edward's cab.
She moved her head and felt matted hair sticking to her neck. She was
still filthy, covered with the residue from the party-turned-disaster
away from which Edward had abruptly spirited her. She must have dozed
off as the cab sped away back toward Negril. It must be very late, or
perhaps early the next morning. Everything was strangely quiet; there
was no sensation of motion, no engine or wind noise. They must be
stopped somewhere. Maybe something's wrong, a flat tire perhaps. She
felt cold. She moved a little and felt the seat back rub against bare
skin. She must still be naked from the waist up, a consequence of
having been forcefully removed from the party just before being
heavily damaged by the woman in red satin and her beefy male cohorts.
As Chris climbed up toward full awareness, she noticed something else,
some activity in the vicinity of her breasts...
Her eyes snapped open; she let out a little yelp and jerked
backward. Immediately she felt a hand remove itself from her left
breast. It was Edward's. It was wet with mother's milk, as were his
lips and chin. When he'd realized that Chris had fallen asleep, Edward
had pulled the cab over, climbed into the back seat, and started
fondling and even trying to milk her. His clumsy attempts had been
only partially successful; he'd gotten some milk but had also awakened
Chris.
"What *is* it about this place?" Chris cried indignantly. "Is
everybody here sex-starved or something? Can't I exist here without
somebody trying to turn me into a human drinking fountain?!"
"Not looking like that, you can't," Edward replied coolly,
referring to Chris's state of undress and her fully functional
mammaries.
"I don't appreciate being taken advantage of," Chris said
savagely. "Were you planning to rape me, Edward?"
"No, sweet lady, no!" Edward said. "Old Edward, he just wanted
a little taste, that's all."
"Look, Edward, I appreciate what you did for me tonight, and
under other circumstances I might have considered it. But this was too
much. I'm burned out. I've had it. Just take me back to the hotel."
"Now let's not be ungrateful. I could have left you to the
wolves without a second thought," Edward said ominously. "Come on,
girl, just let me have a little taste of your sweet momma's milk. I
don't want nothing else... " He moved to try to pin Chris against the
seat, his hands again going after her breasts.
Chris braced her hands against Edward's shoulders. "I...
said... NO!!" she yelled, and at that locked her legs around the lower
portion of Edward's rib cage and began squeezing for all she was
worth. All those hours on the Stairmaster back home were paying off -
Edward was now caught in a vise from which there was no escape. Chris
could hear the breath wheezing from his lungs as she compressed them.
"I'll break every rib you've got. I swear to God I will," she
said.
Edward's eyes began to bulge, and he could not speak, but his
face was defiant, and he again began to grope at Chris's exposed
bosom.
Chris gritted her teeth and squeezed harder. A muffled popping
noise soon followed. Edward threw his head back and tried to yell, but
only a weak gurgle escaped his gaping mouth. He went limp, and Chris
threw him off of her. She fell out of the cab, picked herself up and
ran off down the road, leaving Edward writhing in the back seat, the
imperative to breathe causing him agony.
Chris ran for several minutes until she'd rounded a curve in
the road and the cab was well out of sight. Even though Edward was in
no shape to pursue her, she knew that she couldn't stay on the road,
especially half-naked and covered with someone else's blood. Dawn was
just beginning to break and she could begin to make out her
surroundings a bit better. A few meters ahead was a clear though not
very well-used trail that led off into lush tropical growth. Taking a
chance that the trail would lead to shelter, she trotted off down it.
After a few hundred meters she slowed her pace. The long,
crazy night was beginning to take its toll. Chris realized that she
was absolutely exhausted. Her unsupported breasts, which were already
full again (when would that galactogogue wear off?), were causing her
pain from all the jostling they'd taken during her run. Her face and
hair, already caked with dried blood, were streaked with sweat. She
fought back tears as fatigue, hunger, and the realization that she was
totally lost on an island a thousand miles from home overtook her.
Somewhere in her growing despair a calm inner voice welled up,
telling her to just keep walking, at a pace she could handle. The path
had to lead somewhere. There was bound to be something to eat in this
botanical treasure trove that surrounded her. If nothing else, there
was her own milk...
That thought made Chris realize how incredibly thirsty she
was. She sat down next to the path, bent her head, and tried to bring
one of her nipples to her mouth. But she was too engorged; her breasts
were so hard that she couldn't easily push them up to her lips. Her
neck started to get sore as she strained to latch onto herself. I
should be able to do this, she thought frantically. I used to suck
myself in the shower all the time. She growled in frustration, but
then remembered that all she had to do was express enough milk to
relieve the hardness in her breasts. She leaned back against a rock
and began to milk herself. The sprays hitting the broad leaves of the
plants around her made it sound like it was starting to rain. Even
with all that had just happened to her, Chris was still able to
experience the extreme pleasure that milking always had provided her.
It lifted her spirits. Her tits soon softened enough for her to be
able to suckle herself, which she did, deeply. There was enough milk
in both breasts to quiet the noise in her stomach and the thirst in
her throat. She even almost reached orgasm as her lips tugged at her
nipples, drawing out the much needed nourishment.
Rested and satiated, Chris's predicament began to look less
hopeless to her. The morning had brightened into a spectacular day.
The jungle around her was green and beautiful. Brightly colored birds
were beginning to appear in the trees, scolding Chris for invading
their privacy. And what was that sound in the distance? Running water?
God, I hope so, Chris thought, looking down at her glistening nipples,
still stretched to inch-long pegs from the suction. I could really use
a bath...
She moved off down the path at a renewed clip, following the
increase in volume of the sound of the water. A few minutes later the
path abruptly ended at a dense stand of palm trees. The water was
roaring now - it had to be just on the other side. Chris picked her
way through the palm grove, stumbling repeatedly in her haste to break
through.
When she did, she stopped short, brought up by the sheer
spectacle of the scene before her. She had entered a large clearing,
almost perfectly circular in shape. It was dominated by a large pool,
one end of which was bounded by a mossy stone outcropping about twenty
feet tall over which a small waterfall plunged. A rushing stream
exited the other end of the pool. Large, smooth boulders, carved into
a myriad of shapes by the water, popped up here and there from the
edges of the pool. There were huge flowers of unimagined intensity of
color dotting the shore, and set back near the edge of the jungle were
what looked like several banana trees. The morning sunlight had turned
the surface of the water into liquid silver. To Chris's abused,
exhausted self this was the Garden of Eden.
Almost without thinking Chris ran to the edge of the pool,
stripped off her ruined slacks, and scampered out into the water,
squealing with the coldness of it. Her already large nipples became
dual cylinders of solid garnet in response. Fortunately, at no point
in the pool was the water deeper than about chest level. Chris waded
toward the waterfall. She stood beneath the crystalline cascade,
feeling the depravity and unpleasantness of the previous night's
conclusion slide off of her and be replaced with a clean, strong
feeling of pure delight. She sighed deeply.
The water was quite cold, so Chris moved to the shore as soon
as she was clean. She found a large flat boulder which the sun had
already warmed to a pleasant temperature. She stretched out on it,
reveling in the sheer primal nature of this place. Her nakedness made
her feel like Eve before the apple, a creature unencumbered by shame
or modesty, at one with her surroundings. She was totally unconcerned
that she was still lost, her immediate future still far from certain.
Chris had forgotten how quickly it can get hot in Jamaica. The
climbing sun began to turn the air steamy and the boulder she was
lying on uncomfortably hot. She looked for refuge and saw another
large smooth rock nestled nicely in a hollow behind the waterfall. She
walked around to the rock outcropping from which the waterfall sprang
and found an easy entrance into the hollow. The temperature under
there was warm enough for her to feel comfortable nude, but not so
warm as to be oppressive. The water falling in front of her formed a
jeweled curtain, and the roar of it was a soothing sound, like white
noise. The rock upon which she sat had been sculpted and polished by
the water into a series of curves which seemed to mold themselves to
her body. The rock almost felt like it was radiating its own heat, as
if it were alive. Chris found herself moving against it, rubbing
herself against the bumps and ridges which almost seemed to flow under
her pressure. She lay on her stomach, her face just inches from the
water, her breasts cupped by depressions in the stone, a curved ridge
of rock pressed up between her legs, against her pubic bone. She began
to undulate against this ridge, feeling her naked mons rubbing along
it, her hardening clit unfolding from its hood, her labia parting. The
sides of the rock began to become stained as her nether nectar began
to flow down them. Likewise the depressions cupping her breasts began
to overflow with milk as Chris gave herself up to the ecstasy of it.
This was masturbation on the most basal level, being fucked by Mother
Earth herself. She needed this release, to purge herself once and for
all from the memory of her recent experience. Chris writhed on the
boulder, moving her hips against the ridge, wishing the rock would
sprout a stone dildo that she could impale herself on. She came once,
twice, thrice, four times, seconds apart, squirting wildly, barely
able to maintain contact with the rock as she shook with the force of
her orgasms. Milk and nectar spewed across the surface of the stone,
which was so smooth that it became slick. It was only when Chris
actually slipped off that she was jolted out of her activity.
She sat on the ground next to the rock, absently twirling her
finger in a puddle of breast milk that lay in a depression on its
surface. "My God, that was amazing," she said aloud. "I've had lovers
that were like rocks in bed, but who'd've thought I'd ever find a rock
that was like a lover?" She stood up and surveyed her glorious body -
it was dotted with white droplets; her thighs were slick with love
honey; and her nipples were still oozing. She decided to jump back
under the waterfall to rinse herself off. She used her hands to divert
some of the flow onto the rock to wash it off as well. She stepped
back out of the curtain of water, closed her eyes, and leaned back to
squeeze the water out of her hair. She straightened up, opened her
eyes, and screamed.
Someone was standing in the entrance to the hollow.
From: trekfiend@aol.com (TrekFiend)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: LACTOGENESIS LV: The Intruder, Part One {mf, milk}
Date: 18 Jan 1996 04:35:30 -0500
LACTOGENESIS LV
THE INTRUDER
PART ONE
Christine gasped at the sight of the young man standing in the
entrance. He was close, barely three meters away. How could she not
have heard him coming? Involuntarily her hands flew to cover her
nakedness, but the resplendence of her ripe body could not be so
easily hidden. She ducked down behind the weirdly shaped rock she had
just used as a masturbatory device, but squatting down low as she did
only served to make her bald beaver that much more visible. She tried
to bring her legs together and succeeded only in barking one shin
against the rock. She grimaced out of a combined feeling of pain,
embarrassment, helplessness, and fear. Her eyes were fixed on the
ground, unable or unwilling to meet those of the intruder.
For his part, the young man was rooted firmly to the spot,
unable to move as the result of having been taken completely aback by
the vision of unabashed voluptuousness that had greeted his unprepared
eyes, which were now frozen open. He looked to be in his late teens,
with close-cropped hair and smooth skin as black as human melanocytes
could make it. His taut musculature, which showed through frayed jeans
cropped at the knee and an unbuttoned white shirt, suggested near
constant physical activity. His legs were corded with hard muscle,
poised and ready to flee, but an overload of other hormones was
cancelling out the adrenaline, rendering him a virtual statue.
Long seconds ticked by while befuddled brains struggled
mightily with the situation. The only sound was the rush of the
waterfall that formed one wall of the enclosure. Chris's discomfort
grew to the point where finally it overcame her embarrassment, and she
stood up, tossing all pretense to the winds. The young man visibly
flinched as her full complement of assets came into view. She was
clearly the most amazing specimen of undraped femininity he had ever
had the pleasure to witness. He made a half-hearted attempt to shield
his eyes, but his gonads wouldn't permit him. He continued staring.
Fighting to keep from stammering, Chris haltingly described
her situation, explaining her presence and state of undress. She
wondered how much of her one-woman sex show the young man had seen
prior to making his appearance, then decided that the shock that still
registered on his face indicated that he had only just arrived. She
glanced around for her clothing as she spoke, and finally found it,
wadded up next to the edge of the pool, very far out of reach. She
wondered if he'd let her retrieve it.
In equally halting fashion, the boy explained in a heavily
accented but understandable baritone how he'd come to be here. He
worked nearby, at one of the resort hotels of Negril Beach. At the
mention of that name, Chris's heart leapt - she was close to "home"
after all and wasn't as hopelessly lost as she'd thought. This little
spot of paradise was actually well known among the hotel workers, who
used it as a retreat when things got a bit too hectic on the job. He
explained that the main building was just a kilometer or so away, on
the other side of the palm grove that surrounded the pool. He had not
meant to intrude, not expecting to find anyone, much less a gorgeous
naked woman, in what he thought was his personal retreat.
Chris apologized profusely for her own intrusion, and received
a warm smile in return. The smile lit the boy's? man's? face and for
some reason which Chris was unable to fathom, instantly transformed
him into an extremely desirable person. To her amazement, Chris felt
her inner animal stir once again, fed by the raw desire the mannish
boy's eyes were still exhibiting beneath the veneer of strained
politeness. His muscles continued to ripple beneath his clothing,
still waging the internal fight-or-flight hormonal war, adding to his
desirability. The enclosed area was thick with pheromones. Chris
decided that the only way to break the deadlock and get out of here
was to try to gain the upper hand, and the only way she could think of
to do that was to make use of her unclothed state rather than to try
to hide it.
She leaned against the rock (and almost slipped - it was still
slick with her milk) in such a way that her breasts thrust out and up,
her ruby nipples presenting themselves at full attention. She smiled
and teased the boy, telling him that he looked as if he'd never seen a
naked woman before.
He smiled awkwardly and denied her statement, saying that in
his line of work he was privileged to see nude lady tourists every day
on the beach, but he was quick to add that none of them could hold a
candle to her.
Chris asked him point-blank if he liked her body.
His response was a furrowing of eyebrows that seemed to say,
"What's not to like?" His erection, a huge one by the looks of things,
also became more prominent.
Chris suggested that perhaps her nudity was causing the boy
undue discomfort. She indicated her clothing and suggested she
retrieve it. She began moving in its general direction, making sure
her torso swayed provocatively as she did so. She also made sure her
path took her within centimeters of the poor paralyzed lad. Her
exaggerated undulations caused one foot to slip on the wet rock floor
near the entrance, and she pitched sideways. The boy's apparent
paralysis vanished in that instant as his arms shot out to break her
fall. Chris's arms involuntarily circled the boy's neck as she tried
to regain her footing.
In those first milliseconds of contact, a multitude of
biochemical stimuli and responses passed between the two, far too
quickly to register in their conscious minds. Chris's first sensations
were of muscle and sinew, rigid yet mobile like animated bronze,
unyielding from her impact yet smooth to the touch. A pungent whiff of
nervous perspiration. A thrilling sensation escalating rapidly to
almost an ache, from where one forearm and hand encircled her ribcage
and brushed the underside of a breast. Pins and needles radiating
downward toward her nipples as new milk rushed from deep within down
into her lactiferous sinuses. Minute movement below as her inner labia
were pushed aside by the advance of her swelling clit. Nipples
undergoing a phase change from rubber to diamond.
The boy's first sensations were of wet hair striking his chest
and shoulder, a faint odor of yesterday's shampoo still evident. Damp
cool skin along one side of his body, curves sculpted as from
soapstone. The firm sponginess of the underside of a breast, the shape
impossibly opposing gravity, the curvature seemingly designed to
maximize arousal in a male. Buttocks flaring from dimpled sacroiliac
striking his thigh, a suggestion of rock beneath rubber beneath satin,
but more subtle than any. A wave of disorientation surging from head
downward as his blood was redirected toward his pelvic region where it
began pooling and reinforcing certain structures.
He did not want to let go of her. She did not move to free
herself.
Something clicked inside Chris as her inner animal took full
control. She spun in his arms and locked her mouth to his. His lips
were much fuller than any other man's she had ever kissed. Her own
lips and tongue seemed almost lost in them. She flicked her tongue
past teeth to seek its counterpart, found it, tried to encircle it as
it tried to do the same. Her breasts, hardened now with desire and a
fresh supply of mother's milk, spread across his chest, warming it.
His hands slid down her spine, over her butt cheeks, squeezing and
separating them as they moved, down to the backs of her thighs, where
they clamped down and lifted her completely effortlessly until her
dampening crotch was even with his navel. He moved his head from side
to side, his face disappearing and reappearing as her breasts swept
across it. The boy carried her as if she weighed nothing at all out
from under the waterfall, a few meters beyond to a small, moss-covered
hillock. He tried to gently lay her down on the moss, but she would
not relinquish her grip on him as she tried to press her breasts and
hips ever harder against him. So instead he sat on the moss, his face
all but invisible inside the canyon whose walls were Chris's bosom,
her legs entwined tightly about his waist. She felt her milk welling
up behind her nipples. She would feed him. Her desire would become
liquid and flow salty-sweet down his throat.
Chris melted against this ebony sculpture of a man, ready for
the inevitability of what was to follow.
From: trekfiend@aol.com (TrekFiend)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: LACTOGENESIS LVI: The Intruder, Part Two {mf, milk}
Date: 18 Jan 1996 04:37:02 -0500
LACTOGENESIS LVI
THE INTRUDER
PART TWO
The young man's strength became even more apparent as with one
arm he lifted Chris off his lap while with the other he quickly jerked
down his pants, still in a sitting position. His hand cupped her pussy
as it moved back up, and he got the sensation of his fingers swimming
in warm glycerine as her juice covered them. As soon as her butt
touched his lap again, he felt the hot nectar slide across his thighs.
His rigid dick was so large it could not stand up straight but rather
paralleled one thigh. Chris's labia wrapped around it like a bun
around a hot dog. It felt to her as if she were straddling a polished
log. She began rolling her hips along it, as if her cunt were trying
to polish it even smoother.
Moving from outside to inside was the primary consideration
for the young man now. With one strong hand he lifted her ass off his
lap while with the other he positioned his cock to become the spike
upon which to impale her.
Chris, through the thickening fog inside her head, realized
what was about to happen and tightened her legs around his waist.
"Gently, gently," she whispered in his ear. "Let me." She brought her
legs around until she was straddling his hips. She moved backward and
felt the head of his pole slide up across her anus and perineum. When
she felt it part the drooling lips of her cunt, she lowered herself
slowly, feeling it stretch her slit wider and wider until she felt as
if she were birthing a child in reverse. She could almost feel her
uterus and cervix tipping forward to make more room for this monstrous
intruder. She couldn't remember the last time she felt more full, and
there were still a couple of inches to go. When she finally was able
to rest her weight on his thighs, it almost felt as if the tip of his
dick would come out the top of her head if he were to get any bigger.
For a few seconds she sat quietly, almost afraid to move for fear that
something might tear. Right now it felt indescribable, but she was on
that ragged edge of pain. She felt her insides rearranging; a couple
more seconds and she would be able to accommodate some thrusting. For
a change the fullness in her breasts was a secondary consideration.
The young man couldn't wait a few more seconds. His hands
moved to Chris's hips; it became obvious that he was getting ready to
move her up and down on him himself. Chris knew she wouldn't be able
to handle that, so she grabbed his head in both hands and forced him
to look at her. "Shhhh," she soothed. "You'll hurt me, lover. Let me
do this." She guided his head to her warm breasts. Don't start sucking
yet, she thought, until I've told you what to expect...
Chris began doing Kegel contractions around the young man's
gigantic rod. At first it was difficult because of how stretched the
muscles were, but she could feel the strength of the contractions
increasing with each repetition. To him it felt as if she were trying
to reshape his cock into something longer and thinner. She kneaded him
like a rope of dough, rippling along him as if she were trying to take
him even deeper inside her. He lost his imperative to thrust; it felt
like she was doing it for both of them without either actually having
to move.
Now was not the time for a lot of words, so Chris simply
whispered, "I have milk. Taste me." Immediately thick, soft lips
encircled a nipple and it and most of the areola disappeared into his
mouth. Chris felt her nipple lengthen and flatten as powerful suction
and his tongue pressed it against his palate. She gasped again; this
felt just like when a baby latched on to nurse. Something told her she
was not the first milker this fellow had ever been with. He clearly
knew the optimal technique for drawing milk out of a woman.
Her breasts responding appropriately. A river of milk issued
forth from both, the uncovered breast spouting past his ear and into
the foliage beyond. She began to squirm on his lap, spraying him down
and turning his skin into a polka-dot pattern of white on black. He
would not relinquish her breast, swallowing rapidly and maintaining
incredible suction. Chris felt his cock trying to swell against the
pressure of her internal muscles and the counter-swelling of her G-
spot. Something had to give soon.
When it did it felt like a bomb had gone off inside her. She
felt his urethra expand rhythmically as gouts of come blasted through
it only to become pressurized in the limited volume at the far end of
her vagina. Her own orgasm came quickly, doubling the distance the
milk shooting from her uncovered nipple traveled. Her own ejaculate
had nowhere to go; she was plugged too tightly. The increase in
pressure immediately sent her off into another orgasm. The young man
was past his by this time, and the intensity of it had rendered the
head of his penis so sensitive that the combined squeezing of her
muscles and all that trapped fluid became quite painful. He released
her breast, getting a faceful of milk in the process, and quickly
lifted her off his trapped tool. Chris yelped as her insides were
again forced, much more quickly this time, to rearrange themselves
with the rapid withdrawal. A gushing was heard even above the roar of
the nearby waterfall as he removed himself and what seemed to be
quarts of combined ejaculate poured across his lower half. The young
man groaned loudly as his pummeled penis flopped free.
It took a couple of minutes for them to recover. The young
man's cock twitched in time to his heartbeat, a drop of come still
dangling from its tip. Chris's cunt was also throbbing to a similar
beat, her vagina slowly returning to its normal length and diameter.
As they cooled down, the young man nursed from her other breast,
draining it as efficiently as he had the first. Chris was surprised
that this action didn't send her toward a third orgasm - the first two
must have been powerful enough to satisfy even her apparently
insatiable inner animal.
When they finally disengaged, Chris found herself with nothing
really to say in the way of post-coital conversation. This man-child
was not only a complete stranger, but a member of a completely
different culture. Other than basic sex, what else could they have in
common? Chris silently and gently untwined herself from him, walked
back under the waterfall to rinse herself off, then went over to where
her clothing lay, and began to rinse it out in the pool. The young man
watched her quietly for a while, then went to the waterfall, cupped
his hands under it, and used the water to wash the drops of white from
his torso.
Chris was able to remove the majority of blood from her slacks
and windbreaker and put them on. It was a struggle to squeeze into the
wet slacks; her attempts brought a smile from the young man. When she
was dressed (such as it was - her breasts were still quite visible),
she told him the name of the hotel she was staying at and asked if he
would take her there. He shook his head yes, and without another word
led her off down a different path - one Chris had missed completely -
leading away from the pond. Within less than fifteen minutes the
jungle gave way to beach, and Chris was able to see her hotel several
hundred meters down the strand. She turned to thank her young guide,
but he had already set off in the direction of one of the other
hotels. All in a day's work for him, I guess, thought Chris.
It was only after she was safe in her own room (she had been
oblivious to the stares she got as she padded, disheveled and half
naked, across the hotel lobby) that it occurred to Chris that she had
just had sex with a black man for the first time, and completely on
impulse at that. She was intrigued to realize that once the inner
animal had taken over, all considerations of race had gone out the
window.
Those were her last lucid thoughts as the events of the last
24 hours finally caught up with her and she fell asleep across the
bed, still clad in the ruins of yesterday's outfit, her amazing
breasts exposed, rising and falling with her soft breathing. Her
exhaustion was so complete that the horror of the last minutes of the
Sailors' Soiree did not intrude into her slumber.
From: trekfiend@aol.com (TrekFiend)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: LACTOGENESIS LVII: The Return Home {milk, masturbation}
Date: 18 Jan 1996 04:39:31 -0500
LACTOGENESIS LVII
THE RETURN HOME
Christine dropped her carry-on onto the pile of luggage that
had gathered just inside the entrance to her apartment, and sighed
heavily. The floral print dress she was wearing, a few souvenirs, some
undeveloped photos in the camera, and some very unusual memories were
now all that remained of her sojourn to Jamaica. She was very glad to
be home.
Chris had decided to stay only two more days in Negril - the
amount of time it took to rearrange her travel schedule - following
her less-than-optimal experiences with Jonah Ballwin's party, the cab
ride back to Negril, and getting lost in the jungle. She'd decided to
convert her return cruise ticket into airfare and cut short her stay
at the hotel for fear Jonah or Edward, or worse, the Woman in Red
Satin or one of her goons, would come knocking at her door. The
carefree vacation she'd planned had turned into anything but. The
stress of her adventures had played havoc with her endocrine system,
to the extent that she was having less and less success controlling
her lactation. At one point during the flight back, a baby in the row
ahead of her started to cry, and instantly she'd found her blouse
clinging to her, wet through with breast milk. She'd had to drape a
magazine across her stupendous bosom and retreat to the cramped
lavatory, where she spent the next half hour draining her overactive
breasts into the sink while her blouse dried out. She'd been grateful
that the blouse's color did not show dried milk very well. Now she
hoped that a return to normalcy in her lifestyle would cause the same
to happen to her mental control over the sexual juggernaut The
Accident had transformed her body into.
The apartment smelled of potpourri, and was immaculately
clean, just as it had been after Chris's return from her last long
absence, which was her hospitalization following The Accident.
Silently she thanked Sherri for keeping an eye on the place. At the
thought of her, Chris felt a little pang in her heart, her breasts,
and her cunt. Suddenly she realized how much she had missed her friend
and confidante. Part of her wanted to run over to her apartment right
that second, but most of her was just too tired. She went to her
refrigerator and opened the freezer. Sure enough, front and center was
a pint of Ben & Jerry's with a note shouting "WELCOME HOME!" in red
marker attached to it. Chris smiled and her eyes brimmed with tears of
relief at being back home in one piece and gratitude for Sherri's
thoughtfulness.
She plopped down at her kitchen table, ice cream and spoon in
hand, and reached for the "play" button on her answering machine,
which was blinking madly at her. The counter read 22 messages. Gee, I
hope Sherri reminded Jeremy and everybody that I was going to be out
of town for a while, she thought. For a second she considered just
punching "erase" and blotting them all out, but then reconsidered.
Wearily she pressed the button and waited while the tape rewound.
As she feared, the first seven messages, spaced over two days,
were from Jeremy. The first couple were simple questions about some
upcoming appointments with Lac-Station clients. The next two were
admonishments about having missed those appointments. The next two
were quite angry, amounting to essentially "Where the fuck are you?".
The last one from him was basically Jeremy firing her from the Lac-
Station. The very next message was from Sherri, who was apologizing
for neglecting to tell Jeremy about the vacation. She said that she'd
spoken to Jeremy and that all was forgiven. Chris had mixed feelings
after hearing those messages. She hadn't liked the way Jeremy sounded.
Maybe it was time to leave the Station...
The next several messages were from old clients of Chris's.
Most of them were calling out of the mistaken notion that she was
sick; the messages were basically get-wells. A few mentioned that they
couldn't wait to experience the taste of her milk once again before
hanging up. A couple were considerably more suggestive, and one or two
actually made her grimace in disgust. She'd have to make sure someone
else in the group got them next time.
There were calls from all of the other staff of the Lac-
Station except for Eleanor, which didn't really surprise Chris; she
and Eleanor weren't really very close. When she heard Genevieve's
voice, Chris expected another beratement (she and Jeremy were of the
same mind when it came to running the Station), but instead was
surprised when it turned out to be a good wish for a happy vacation
and a suggestion that the girls get together informally after she got
back. Several of the messages that followed were of plans and
counter-plans for a welcome-back party, finally culminating in a time
and place two days hence that could accommodate everyone's schedules.
The final message, timed only an hour before Chris's arrival
at her apartment, was from Sherri. It started as an apology for having
used the apartment for a wild party the night before. Come to think of
it, Chris thought as she sniffed the air, I do smell marijuana
underneath that potpourri. She mentioned having broken a vase that had
been a gift from Jeremy. Chris just shrugged and smiled. She laughed
out loud when Sherri promised to return the sheets from her bed as
soon as she'd finished laundering them. "The salad oil is proving a
little difficult to get out," she said. Sherri's apology soon turned
into an admission that she missed Chris more than she thought she
would, and then she began going into exquisitely filthy detail about
what she wanted to do with Chris as soon as they could be alone
together. As Sherri described a favorite activity of theirs - pressing
their four nipples together and combining their streams of milk into a
single torrent rivaling Angel Falls - Chris felt herself getting wet.
She freed her bosom just in time for milk to begin dripping from her
erect nipples. She grabbed two hand towels from the sink and placed
one on her chair and the other on the table in front of her. With the
abandon born of being back in familiar, safe surroundings, she
masturbated lustily, replaying Sherri's last message twice as she did
so, forming her words into visions of deliciously wicked couplings to
come. And come she did, soaking both towels simultaneously with
different fluids.
By the time she'd finished cleaning up, the pint of Ben &
Jerry's was gone, and all the phone messages erased. Even though it
was only the middle of the afternoon, Chris was very tired from her
travels. Her body seemed to know it was back home and so could
completely relax. She'd take a quick nap, and then call Sherri.
She was still asleep six hours later.
From: trekfiend@aol.com (TrekFiend)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: LACTOGENESIS LIX: The Other Reunion {ff, milk, f ejac}
Date: 22 Mar 1996 21:14:06 -0500
LACTOGENESIS LIX
THE OTHER REUNION
The get-together at Janine's apartment had broken up fairly
early. Even though the subject of the Lac-Station's demise had not
come up again after Chris had announced that she, too, would not be
returning, the fact was that the only thing these five ladies had in
common was lactation. After they found there wasn't much else for them
to talk about, they'd finished their cider and went their separate
ways. It was very likely that none of them would ever see each other
again, although Chris secretly hoped that she'd be invited to Janine's
wedding if she and Geoff were ever to get hitched. Janine's childlike
demeanor had been one of the bright spots of Chris's association with
the Lac-Station.
Now she and Sherri sat on the edge of Sherri's bed, each
unbuttoning the other's top. It was something they always did whenever
they made love, and they fell into the routine easily. As they
undressed, Chris asked Sherri again why she'd quit Jeremy's
organization.
"Two reasons, actually," Sherri said as she slid Chris's
blouse off her shoulders. "First is that I'd had my fill of Jeremy.
All that money he was getting from us was turning him into a real
prick. Second, I've decided to move on to something else."
"What do you mean?" Chris said, as she removed Sherri's shoes.
"You really didn't expect for me to stay on the same kink
forever, did you? I'm not all that into milk any more."
"I'm shocked," Chris said, and she was. "After how hard you
worked to get your milk to come in, and to maintain it?"
"That's part of it. It *was* a lot of work, not like for you,"
Sherri said. "I developed more clogged ducts, each time more painful
than the last, and even though I loved the feeling of having milk, I
decided the hell with it. I'm still making a little bit, but I've
mostly dried up now."
"Can I ask what your latest thing is?" Chris asked.
"You'd probably think it was too weird," Sherri said, a little
shyly.
"Hey, it's me, remember? The girl who squirts top and bottom?
The one who survived the sailors' party? How weird could it be?"
"Golden showers," Sherri said.
"Whoa. That is a little weird. How did this happen?"
"One of the clients was into it. Hell, it wasn't that much of
a stretch for me. Mother's milk is a bodily fluid too, after all, and
the way you cum it was sort of like getting peed on."
"I see your point."
"I loved getting drenched by you," Sherri said into Chris's
ear, as she began to unhook her bra. "This way I can be with guys and
still get drenched. Different kind of liquid, is all."
Chris shook her head wonderingly. "You are something else,
lady."
"Shut up and drench me."
"All in good time, my dear," Chris said, stroking Sherri's
cheek with the back of her hand. "We need to take care of a little
something first."
Chris shrugged out of her new Olga nursing bra. It was much
more elegant an undergarment than the ugly generic types she had been
wearing until recently, but it was still a nursing bra. Chris had had
to begin doubling up on the nursing pads lately, so she'd had to buy
an F cup to make room for them. Even with the Olga bra, her bustline
still looked lumpy and ludicrously huge. Four soaking wet pads fell
out of the bra as it hit the floor. Sherri's bra joined it seconds
later. In almost exact synchrony, both women, now nude, extended their
arms upward and stretched like cats in the warm sun, reveling in the
freedom of clotheslessness. Milk evaporating from Chris's nipples
cooled them into twin pegs of ruby, surrounded by areolae the color of
a fine cabernet. The skin of her bosom, normally pale and marbled with
the miraculous vasculature that provided the raw material for her
milk, was flushed pink, partly from ardor and partly from engorgement.
The areolae were so puffy from the pressure behind them that the bumps
of the Montgomery glands which were usually so prominent were almost
missing altogether.
"I need to be drained a little before we get too carried
away," Chris continued. "I'd like to be able to really enjoy this, and
I won't if my boobs are causing pain."
Sherri gently cupped Chris's burgeoning breasts. She blinked
at the warmth they were radiating. "Poor baby! I've never seen you so
full."
"I'm up to three quarts a day now," said Chris. "It's a
vicious circle. Ever since I lost my mental control, I have to pump
more often to relieve the buildup. The more I pump, the more I make.
It's getting ridiculous."
"I've got just the thing," Sherri said with a mischievous
grin. Taking Chris by the shoulders, Sherri guided her to sit with her
back against the headboard and placed pillows under each forearm.
Stretching across Chris, Sherri opened the drawer of her nightstand.
Her ass was just below Chris's face. Chris caught the exhilarating
odor of damp pussy as Sherri slid by in front of her. Impulsively she
leaned over and nipped Sherri on her left butt cheek. Sherri yelped,
then giggled. From the drawer she withdrew two containers, one a
squeeze bottle of chocolate syrup and the other one of those clear
plastic bears filled with honey. She sat up and displayed them,
rocking them in her hands, the grin still wide on her face.
Chris cocked an eyebrow. "What's this?" she asked.
"Well, quite frankly, I'm tired of just the one flavor,"
Sherri said. "You've got two nozzles there, why not a new flavor for
each?" With that, she popped open both bottles and leaned toward
Chris.
"But your sheets... " Chris protested, but judging from her
closed eyes and parted lips, the protest had no teeth.
"I'm into golden showers now, remember?" Sherri replied. "Do
you think a little mess would bother me?"
Sherri dripped chocolate syrup onto Chris's right nipple and
honey onto the left. The sensation of the thick liquid oozing along
and down her hot breasts caused a surge of milk to flow into the
sinuses behind her nipples, and they began to drip. Sherri eagerly
caught the driblets of milk on her tongue, swirling them together with
the syrup.
"I've always loved chocolate milk as a kid," Sherri said
between licks. She drizzled some syrup directly into her mouth, then
fastened her lips around Chris's swollen areola and began to expertly
suckle her. Chris flooded milk into Sherri's mouth, but she did not
swallow it immediately. Chris could see that she was mixing it with
the syrup in her mouth first.
For the next several minutes, Sherri consumed several ounces
of mother's milk from Chris's spurting bosom. Chris was hard put to
stay sitting upright; she squirmed with pleasure as the milk flowed
out of her. The sheet where she was sitting was becoming slippery
with her pussy juice. Finally her breasts had softened enough to where
she could raise her weeping nipples to her own mouth. Sherri held the
spouts of the syrup and honey above them and dripped the liquid
confections down over the nipple they now shared between them, a
tongue on either side, lapping up the milk mixture like hungry
kittens. The feel of two tongues at once on her pulsing paps was
electric; Chris moaned loudly and began to slide down from her sitting
position.
"If you want to get drenched, now's the time," she panted.
Quickly Sherri moved around to lie on her back, her own pendulous
breasts flowing back onto her upper arms. Chris straddled her face,
her hands smearing chocolate and honey together with the milk that
continued to flow from her breasts all over her upper torso, enjoying
the sensation of being deliciously messy. Uncaring of how much of a
further mess she would make, she began expertly milking herself, her
hands sliding on her sticky skin from her chest wall all the way down
to the tips of her nipples, squeezing out every last drop in a tight
torrent that made a loud noise against the headboard. At the end of
each stroke she would tug hard on her nipples, which would cause her
pussy to spasm with delight. When she finally came, it was in buckets.
Sherri's long mane of red hair caught the brunt of it. She slathered
away at Chris's fleshy labia as the deluge blasted from it, her face
and neck becoming slick with saliva and love lava. When she finally
came up to place a very wet kiss on Chris's sticky lips, she looked as
if she had just come out of the shower.
Chris pushed Sherri back down on the bed and began massaging
her clit with a still-erect nipple. Sherri began thrashing about,
making her clit a moving target. Chris then inserted the nipple into
Sherri's vagina and renewed her milking until she had filled Sherri's
space with sweet mother's milk. She then began lapping it up, her
tongue occasionally encircling Sherri's clit, as it oozed out, mixed
with Sherri's juices. Sherri was helpless under this treatment, and
within seconds arched her hips upward as she too exploded in orgasm.
They held each other for several minutes afterward. To their
surprise, when they tried to separate, it was very difficult, since
the syrup and honey, breast milk and pussy juice, had combined to form
a very effective adhesive!
It took almost an hour in the shower for them to get clean.
But then again, they didn't spend that entire time simply washing.