40-Pack Hucow/Milking MEGA-ULTRABUNDLE! Read online

  "But what of us?" She asked as she rubbed her now-pregnant belly.

  "Don't worry," I kissed her leaking breasts and suckled the milk out of them, "I just work a few hundred yards away and can come see you everyday. Why don't we both sleep on this and tomorrow I'll come by and we can discuss our future together."

  "I love you," she said as she hugged me close to her and whispered in my ear. "I'll never forget what you did today."

  I walked away with a smile on my face, mermaid cum on my cock and milk all over my body. But I didn't care.

  Don't Forget the Milk

  Nikita Storm

  I couldn't believe it! As a milking mother, I know about how long I can go without having to express myself. But, for some reason, today was different.

  I left hubby at home with the baby and stepped out to get some exercise. When I was finished, I thought that I would head on over to the store and grab some things.

  Wouldn't you know it – halfway through my shopping and my breasts decide to start leaking. This was a problem because I hadn't brought any cups to catch the milk in. I looked around to see if anyone had noticed my predicament and was grateful that they hadn't.

  As quickly as I could without making a scene, I hurried to the ladies room where I figured that I would be able to relieve some of the pressure – enough at least until I got home. I had several days worth of milk stored up in the fridge, so I wasn't worried about losing any.

  However, I was stopped dead in my tracks by those little yellow signs that told me that the restrooms were closed. Not only was the women's restroom off-limits, but so was the men's. Usually it was one or the other, not both.

  Frustration built up inside of me as I thought about my options. I could finish shopping and hope that my leaking breasts don't start a river. I could leave my shopping cart, get in the car and express myself at home. Or...

  I furtively glanced around to see if anyone was watching. A clerk walked past me and smiled and I waved at him and waited until he was out of my view. When I was satisfied that no one was around, I crept to the door and slowly opened it.

  I'm sure I wasn't the first person to cross the yellow line and I probably wasn't going to be the last one. Whether this could be deemed an emergency or not, I wasn't sure. All I knew is that I needed to get this breast milk out of me so that I could continue shopping.

  I cringed as the door creaked when it opened and prayed to whichever God would listen that no one would be inside. I figured if there was a cleaning lady, I could just explain my situation, tell her I would only be a few minutes and be on my way.

  Unfortunately, that wasn't what happened.

  For a minute, I completely forgot what I had come in there for. I was stunned to see a very tall, very muscular naked black man cleaning the floor as he whistled a tune.

  As some of my milk began to drip down onto my belly, I forced myself to enter the room. I couldn't help it if some weirdo was in there mopping in the buff, I needed to get in there and get rid of some of this milk.

  I kind of felt like a voyeur as I stood there watching him. He had a very large, erect dick – probably twice the size as my hubby's – a large, muscular chest and very powerful, long legs. To say he was gorgeous would've been an understatement.

  Involuntarily, my pussy twitched. Outside of my husband, I had never seen a naked man before. And what a man he was! I shivered as a naughty thought ran through me. I swear, just looking at him, my engorged breasts leaked faster.

  Taking a deep breath and holding my head up, I waltzed in, clearing my throat.

  "Hey baby!" He looked up at me, not trying to hide his nakedness at all. He just rested on his broomstick and leered at me as though I was some piece of meat that he intended to purchase.

  "I'll just be a few minutes," I said as I hurried toward the sink.

  "I'm afraid I can't let you in here ma'am," he said, grabbing me by the shirt.

  I pulled away from him, "I need to do this," I said.

  His tone grew angrier and he moved toward me, "didn't you read the sign? This restroom is closed until further notice."

  My indignation rose, but having this hot hunky man this close to me gave me goosebumps. "I saw the sign, and I also know that I need to get this milk out of my breasts or it's going to end up all over the place." I felt really weird telling a stranger about my breast problems. But it really couldn't be helped. "And then you'll be cleaning that up, too." I looked him dead in the eyes, "you wouldn't want to do that, would you?"

  He shrugged, "that ain't my department."

  I tried to walk past him, but he wouldn't let me.

  "Fine," I gave in. "What will it take for you to let me empty my leaking breasts?"

  I swear to God his leer grew wider and creepier as he thought about my proposal. My pussy betrayed me as I started to leak from there, too. I balled my fists up in rage. Men were impossible!

  "Well," he said eying me up and down, "let's see what we have here."

  I stood there while he ogled my body. I may have been a new mother, but I had kept in shape my entire pregnancy and I knew that I was a hot number. Apparently, he knew it too.

  I had been lusted after by many men in my time, and I knew what was going through his mind. He was thinking about all of the naughty things that he was going to do to me – assuming he got the chance.

  Finally, he made up his mind. "Why don't you take off your soaking wet shirt," he suggested as he moved back and began to stroke his cock.

  My eyes were riveted on his massive dong and something inside of me wanted to do a little striptease for him. If this was what it took to get past the guy, then I would gladly do it.

  Slowly, seductively, I pulled my clingy, milk-filled shirt off my chest. I didn't have the largest breasts in the world, but ever since the pregnancy they had grown in size and now were a very respectable C-cup.

  I watched him fist his big, black cock and felt shivers race up my spine. This was wrong on so many levels!

  "Do you strip like that for your husband?"

  I shook my head. I had to admit that I had never intentionally stripped for anyone and I felt a thrill go through me knowing I was doing something my husband would disapprove of.

  I stood there in front of him with only a bra and miniskirt. What more did he want? I twirled around for him, but I could tell by his expression that he wasn't satisfied. My breasts were beginning to ache from the pressure.

  "The bra, too," he flicked his finger.

  Oh God! He actually wanted to see my mommy breasts? They were too big, too saggy and too full of milk for anyone to want to look at. I started to protest, but then saw a stern look on his face and knew that I had to obey. Why was this strange, black man having such an effect on me?

  Without another thought, I reached my arms around my back and unhooked my bra clasp as it clung precariously to my breasts.

  "There, now isn't that better?" His deep, gravelly voice cut into my thoughts. "Just let it drop slowly to the ground."

  I couldn't believe I was doing this. I closed my eyes and gulped. Then I opened them again and stared at his massive, black dick as he ran his hand up and down it. Wetness seeped into my panties as I began to covet what I knew I could not have.

  This was madness! I was a married woman for Pete's sake! What was I doing alone in a women's restroom with a hunky, large black man taking off my clothes in front of him while he jerked off. Ha, it sounded like a perfect set-up for an erotic story!

  Instead of letting my bra fall to the floor, I should just turn around and leave. But I didn't. Something rooted me in that spot. Was it fear? Was I afraid that the big black man was going to hurt me? No, it was something deeper.

  Deep down inside I wanted to relinquish control to him. I didn't know his name or from whence he came, but I didn't care. I wanted him to take me and make me his. The scary part was that I had no idea that this fantasy even existed in my - apparently - sheltered mind.

  I took my eyes off his thick, bla
ck shaft and looked him straight in the eyes while I released the silky fabric that separated my body from his lust. Just like that I dropped all pretense of being a good-girl married woman. Five minutes ago, I didn't know it, but I needed this man. I needed him to take me and give me everything he had.

  He must've seen the look of lust in my eyes because he stood and moved toward me with his hands outstretched. I don't know how, but he knew I wouldn't resist him - couldn't resist him.

  I closed my eyes and drew in a sharp breath as I felt the first man's hand - outside of my marriage - touch me. Surprisingly, he was very gentle as his large, black hands caressed my needy, aching breasts.

  Milk squirted involuntarily from my leaking nipples, coating his arm and chest. I moaned softly as he began caressing and squeezing my tender boobs. A flood of wetness gushed from my pussy as the naughtiness of what we were doing caught up to me.

  "Surely you don't want to see a lactating mother's old breasts, do you?" I questioned him. At twenty-four I wasn't old, but with a new baby some days it felt that way.

  He grinned and looked up at me, "just the opposite, darlin'." I jumped back as he started to suckle on my breasts. What the hell was he doing? That was for my baby! I didn't even let my husband suckle on them (not that he would've wanted to).

  "What are you doing?" I tried to push him away, but once he was latched on, I couldn't dislodge him. In truth, since I had gotten pregnant, I hadn't thought of my breasts sexually - it was always about the baby. But now that this strong, dominant black man was taking control, I began to recall the pleasurable sensations that my breasts used to elicit.

  My pushes became strokes as I caressed his head. I felt like I was nursing a grown man. I moaned as my breasts thanked me for the let down. I swear they were about to burst.

  After a couple of minutes, I pointed to my other breast, "she needs release, too." The breast had been squirting milk all over the place and there was now a small puddle on the floor under our feet.

  He grunted and released my breast, eagerly switching over to the left out one. My wetness grew as he began running his hands all over my body. When he got to my core, I pulled down my skirt and let him touch my married pussy through the fabric of my panties.

  "Don't stop!" I cried out as he lightly pressed his large finger into my messy hole. The nipple that he had just been sucking on began leaking again and I felt like a leaky faucet.

  I parted my legs to allow easier access to this God of a man. He knew exactly where to touch me to please me. He knew exactly how much pressure to apply to send me just to the edge but not over it. No longer was it just my breasts that needed release.

  "You like that, don't you honey?" He sneered as he moved aside my panties and pressed a finger in my pussy. "You like it when a black man takes control, don't you cunt?"

  The words stung, but I nodded as I really did like it. My husband was a nice, gentle guy, but apparently this real man was showing me what I really needed.

  I felt his finger go all the way in to his third knuckle and I thought I was in heaven. Slowly he pulled out and pushed back in. I squirted breast milk on him and he caught it in his mouth.

  The thought of what we were doing and that if anyone walked in on us right then was too much for my body to take and I cried out as an orgasm rocked through me.

  "You ain't seen nothin' yet," he said as he pulled out his finger and pushed it to my mouth. At first I was reticent. What girl licks her own juice? But he was insistent, so I tentatively opened my mouth and took a taste.

  "Eat it!" He commanded.

  I threw caution to the wind and began licking and sucking his finger like there was no tomorrow. It didn't taste as bad as I'd imagined. In fact, it had a rather pleasant, sweet taste. I could tell by the taste that I was ovulating. The naughtiness of that sent another orgasm through my body.

  He pulled his finger out of my mouth and said, "suck it."

  I leaned forward for another taste of my mother cum, but he shook his head and pointed down to his throbbing, twitching cock.

  My eyes widened in shock. I had never done such a thing. And to think this was a black man in a public place. I didn't have much more time to think as he gently shoved me to my knees. I had a nasty thought that this was a reversal of the "old" days.

  Cupping my milky breasts in my hands, I squirted milk all over his big black cock; the whiteness of the milk contrasting greatly with his chocolate skin.

  "Oh baby, you know what daddy like," he leaned back his head and groaned as I pursed my lips and opened my mouth on his massive dick. It could not compare to my husband's and I struggled to get the head in my mouth. Once past that, the shaft was pretty easy.

  Holy fuck it was huge! Even after being stretched by a baby, I wasn't sure that I would be able to fit it inside of me. My milk tasted delicious as I slurped my lips over his sensitive head. He bucked his hips and moaned like a dying man as my hot mouth encased his shaft. Without gagging, I was only able to accommodate half his cock. I felt so depraved kneeling before this tall, strong stranger as I did things to him that I had never done outside my marriage bed.

  "Ooh yeah," he stroked and played with my breasts while I slicked up his shaft with my milk and spit. As I played with his large balls, I noticed a familiar glint on my finger. My ring. My heart caught in my throat as I thought about what I was doing - and more importantly, why. I was committing a grave sin and I knew it. But I couldn't help it, this black stranger had some kind of hold over me.

  He pulled me up then, his big, strong arms flexing and rippling like a boxer's or wrestler's. I could've resisted. I could've told him no, I need to go home - oh, who was I kidding? I had no control over my own sexuality. He was bringing emotions out in me that I hadn't known I had. As cheesy as it sounds, I'd obey him. If he said jump, I'd do it.

  "What did you say your name was, again?" I asked huskily as he sat me back on the large counter and spread my sopping wet legs open.

  "Mark," he said in a deep, booming voice. "Yours?"

  "Jen," I replied. So, I was going to commit adultery with a black man named Mark.

  "Nice to meet you," he said and dove into my hotbox.

  "Oh my God!" I cried out, not caring what any passerby thought. His mouth felt sublime as his tongue and lips danced erotically over my ultra-sensitive nubbin. I hadn't yet had any sexual attention since the birth - partly because my husband wasn't really interested and also because I was just so fucking tired all the time. But I now see that my body was, indeed, ready to continue her drive.

  "Mmm," he hummed as he pulled back, a string of my sticky cum clinging to his large lips, "just as sweet as Mama's apple pie."

  I snorted, not knowing whether to take that as a compliment or be offended. He lifted my legs and wrapped them around his head as he continued his treasure hunting. My husband liked to diddle me for a few minutes before sex, but he never went down on me. His excuse was that he couldn't stand the smell. But there was hell to pay if one day went by without a blow-job.

  This guy, though - he knew how to please a woman. He darted his big tongue deep into my dark cavern, caressing my thighs with his massive hands. I knew he must be as ready for me as I was for him.

  I wanted him inside my wet pussy so badly that I could taste it. At that moment, I didn't care about breaking my marriage vows. I just needed him.

  He seemed to sense this as he stopped sucking my clit and brought his cum-covered lips to mine as he pressed his needy body into me. I could feel his massive hard-on pressing urgently against my legs.

  "Take me!" I cried as I pushed my hips forward for easier access. I tasted myself on his mouth and it drove me crazy. How had I never been exposed to my own taste before? Why did it take a stranger to awaken my latent sexual desires?

  He grabbed an empty cup and held it in front of my breasts. "Fill it," he commanded.

  I squirted milk into the cup, wondering what he was going to do with it. Was he going to drink it? My pussy contracted at that thou
ght. He took the cup of my warm mother's milk and had me open my pussy as wide as I could get it as he slowly dribbled my breast milk inside.

  Oh God! I squirmed as the warm wetness filled my steaming pussy. This was the oddest sensation I had ever felt and it turned me on like nothing ever had. When my pussy was filled to the brim with my own milk, he set the cup aside and pressed his thick, hulking manhood up against my milk-filled pussy lips.

  As he pushed the head of his dick in, displacing the milk, I could feel my hot milk sloshing around inside me. It ran out of my pussy and puddled on the floor. The further he pressed, the more milk was displaced until he had bottomed out.

  That was when I remembered that I was ovulating. "Just don't cum inside me," I panted as he peppered my face with hot, wet kisses. He pulled my body close to his, pressing my milk-filled breasts up against his rock-hard chest. I couldn't believe I was doing this.

  "Not my problem, babe," he said callously as he slowly pulled out and pushed back in. He mashed my breasts to him, causing milk to dribble down his gorgeous chest.

  I started to protest, but then I realized that he was right. This was my problem. I was the one who wanted and needed him. He was fulfilling his part of the bargain, the rest was up to me. I groaned inwardly at the thought of trying to explain to my husband why our baby wasn't white. At least getting knocked up by a white guy you could pretend. Not so with a black man.

  With a quiet determined resolution to keep his baby, I accepted my fate. I wasn't seeking another baby this close, but I wasn't going to turn it down, either. If this God of a man wanted to knock me up, who was I to argue?

  Once I had accepted the fact that I was very likely to get pregnant from this encounter, it allowed me to let my emotional hair down - if you will. If I was going to get knocked up by a big black man, I was going to go all out.

  "Fuck me!" I cried, spreading my legs open for his easier access. "Put a baby in me." My lips sought out his and I kissed him just as passionately as I had my husband when we first made love.