MF, cheat, reluc, lact
This a true story between myself and an of-age, consenting adult, with a name change for anonymity. Furthermore, if you have any issues with lactation, please leave now. There is more to this story, but being a n00b, I wanted to test the waters (so to speak).
Several months ago, I had a falling out with the father of my children. Our youngest daughter was only a couple months old, adding to our toddler and his two older children from a prior relationship. I was exhausted. Ran-into-the-ground and with an exuberant amount of sleep loss, I stomped my foot and demanded more help around the house from him. He tried. I love the man to death, but he tried. For about a week.
I decided we needed a break. I moved a state away to stay with my parents. We never defined if we were "separated" or "working things out". And I didn't care. I slept for the first time in months. My parents took care of the girls as soon as they walked in the door. That's not to say I didn't help, they just knew the fragile state I had been molded into. They gave me space. They gave me room to breathe.
The nights were the worst. I hadn't slept alone for a good five years. It took all my strength to not call him. I stayed stubborn.
I, also, started fiddling around with dating apps. At first, it was mindless, something to pass the time. The men I talked to made me feel worth something, but aside from harmless (although, sometimes explicit) texting and photo swapping, I vowed to never actually meet any of them.
Then I stumbled across Kyle.
He was ornery, it gleamed in his smile. Although not what I'd call a stud, he was extremely easy on the eyes. And, my God, he was an infantryman. I've always loved the uniform, but having gone through a nasty and cruel relationship with my ex-husband (also infantry), I had never felt the desire to go near any serviceman again.
He was married, but unhappy. They had just had a child and his sexual needs were not being met. He had no plans on leaving his wife, but told me they had agreed on an open relationship. To this day, I still think it was a load of crap. Despite this, we flirted relentlessly to the point that we exchanged phone numbers. Everything progressed quickly from there. Within a couple of weeks, we decided we had to meet.
It was early fall by this time. I dressed casually, donning my favorite pair of jeans and a tight tee. I figured the top wouldn't matter too much anyway as the night air would need a sweater.
Kyle showed up a little after eight. He drove a black hatchback, coincidentally one I'd always wanted. I smirked at the coincidence.
He got out to greet me, that killer smile laced across his lips. My body twitched with anticipation as he approached, my mind flashing to the dirtier texts we'd often exchange late at night.
"We finally meet," he mused, arms opening to give me a warm embrace. His cologne was deep and woodsy, the scent making me close my eyes to fully appreciate it. I pressed my endowed chest against his, well aware of the power of 36Gs. His sigh was proof enough of that.
We exchanged a few pleasantries as he guided me over to the passenger side, opening the car door. I'm a sucker for chivalry.
More small talk as we made our way to a wooded park. We had discussed a meeting place before, but both being outdoorsy types, decided a night time hike sounded perfect. Besides, we'd joked, there were so many spots to hide.
We stopped at the top of what's considered "the Indian burial ground". We joked how every town supposedly had one that magically kept the tornadoes at bay.
He pulled out a bottle of wine.
"For the lady," he joked.
I remembered the photo I'd sent him a few nights back, my tipsy self pouting with an empty bottle.
"You didn't have to," I laughed, but happily accepted the gift.
We hiked down to an overhang that overlooked the small pond at the hill's base, a task that proved more problematic in the dark than we'd originally imagined. Several times I had to take his outstretched hand for balance. His grip was steady and held my clumsiness with ease. How I began to ache for those hands to touch and grab elsewhere...
I sat with my legs dangling over the little cliff. It was a good 40 foot drop. Kyle scooted in behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist for good measure. It annoyed me that I couldn't look at him as we began to talk, but I quickly overcame my frustrations at feeling his warmth sink into my bones.
About half of an hour passed before he brushed the hair away from my neck. I bristled at first, having not been touched in such a manner by any other man in so long. He noticed, his fingers pausing. It was a test, I thought, and I had just failed. A part of me wailed in frustration, the slight caress having already sent tendrils of pleasure down my spine. I wanted to groan. I silently pleaded with the night air. Don't let him stop.
"Kassandra..." He whispered it cautiously, not questioning. Perhaps it was a warning. I couldn't concentrate enough to decide. Hearing those three syllables from his mouth within such proximity of my ear made me ache. I rarely get called by my full name.
I couldn't reply. My body arched into his, speaking for me.
I heard the exhalation of his smile as the forearm around my waist cinched tighter, pinning my hips to his groin. The heat of a blush rose to my cheeks. I felt like a schoolgirl, wanting to giggle as I focused my attention to the base of my spine. He wasn't hard, but his dick was large enough to be felt between our clothing. This epiphany made the blush roar to a wildfire that spread down to my chest. He'd never sent me an actual photo of his cock, but it didn't take much imagination to realize that he was bigger than my boyfriend.
My musings were cut short by his lips on my jugular. How he found that sweet spot in the dark, I'll never know. I couldn't help but elicit a soft whine as they parted, assaulting my skin with wet kisses. My throat leaned instinctively to allow him more play room.
While Kyle's teeth began their assault, the wine crept forth. Aside the chemical rush of endorphins, another boozy warmth oozed through my limbs. I felt my body relaxing, the mixing of the two sensations beyond explanation. (Seriously, try it.) My head soon rested on his shoulder, an arm reaching behind me to hold his mouth in place. A moan spilled from my lips. It teased the arm at my waist upward, his large hand pawing at my right breast. I felt helpless, his arm pinning me to his body by the groping of my chest. His fingers tweaked my nipples, quickly bringing them to attention. I groaned loudly.
"Don't," I warned.
He paused, my cunt clenching in protest as he drew away from my throat. "Why?" he grunted.
I bit my lip. I had breastfed both of my children, the youngest just now beginning to wean. However, if stimulated, I could easily produce the milky substance.
When I wasn't quick enough to respond, he gave my nipple a rough tug.
I yelped, hips wriggling against his crotch in surprise. He groaned at the sensation, the sound sending a tingling down to my toes.
Sighing, I admitted my reluctance. "I'm weaning my youngest."
He considered this a moment. I knew he got the implication.
He suddenly stood. My body yearned to feel him against me, yearned for physical contact. I could still feel the sting of his hands and teeth.
"Get up," he commanded.
I looked up at him, feeling vulnerable at such a position. My ex husband and I had a very D/s relationship, I being the sub. Alarms rang in my ears, flashes of the mental abuse that followed his limitless hunger for control. I stared up at Kyle for what seemed an eternity, uncertain.
He growled, "Wait here", then turned and left.
I sat in silence, bewildered, listening to his fading footsteps. What if he left? What would I do? Make the trek back to my parent's house (it was under a mile, easy enough) or would I call somebody for a ride? After all, I had lied to get out of the house, telling them I was meeting up with an old girlfriend for a movie. Meeting a stranger after dark would've warranted that parental glare of death.
I waited. Uncomfortably. I finished the bottle of wine in my anxiety. I would have paced if I had trusted my clumsy ass to not sway and plummet to my inevitable demise. That would be a fun phone call, I mused.
Judging time (a terrible idea when intoxicated), I imagined he was to his car by now. I listened with earnest. No engine thundered to life. I don't remember if I heard a car door or not. I just stared into the distance he'd gone, waiting, my stomach sinking with despair.
Kyle's footsteps soon crackled through the trees. I held my breath, not allowing him (or myself) to hear the sigh of relief that was welling up from my lungs. He carried something under one arm.
"I almost rolled coming back down," he laughed.
I snickered, "That would've been an interesting story for your wife," I teased.
He scoffed, leaning down to help me stand. "You haven't a clue."
The sentence gave me an uneasy feeling, but the moscato forced me to forget it. He pulled me to my feet, tenderly encircling me by the small of my back. That damn cologne again, I thought. My legs gave an involuntary tremble, taken by the want to bury my face into the crook of his neck, to lick the exhilarating scent from his skin.
And then he pulled away. I wanted to stomp my foot. He clearly knew how to drive me mad, distancing himself the moment before I could give myself to temptation.
"Let's take a walk," he grinned.
His expression made my knees weak. I nodded in agreement, managing a meek smile.
We didn't speak, the air between us alive with tension. He had my hand in his again and I could feel his energy flowing into my pores. It shot through me like electricity, sparking into every muscle, joint, and bone. The throbbing epicentered within my cunt, the wine imploring my attention. I noticed the way my hips sashayed, tempting me to discreetly squeeze my thighs tightly together with each step, accomplishing a corresponding pressure that would thump against my labia. The thought made me bite my lip, my pussy wanting attention. Thanks, wine.
It took me a moment to notice he'd even stopped. We were along one of the paths that cut along the hill's side, a natural staircase with elongated steps. Large trees surrounded the trail, this step having a particular overhang and cove of foliage. He'd been carrying a blanket all along which he now spread over the fallen leaves and rocks, hugging it closely to the edge of the walkway.
"Sit."
I obeyed, quivering at the command.
Kyle pounced on me, straddling my hips in an instant. His hand wove into the hair at the base of my skull, the other atrociously grabbing at my left breast. The attack happened so suddenly that I yelped, nearly losing my balance. The hand in my auburn locks kept me steady, Kyle's mouth now inches from my own. I moaned loudly. Many times had I imagined those lips devouring mine. I could feel the current between us, the mutual desire that dared to shatter at any moment. I couldn't move.
"You are mine, Kassandra," he hissed.
Again, with the name. I groaned, nearly swooning from not only hearing it, but the possessive tone he had also undertaken.
The fist at my hairline tightened, forcing me to look at him. His gaze was intense and burnt directly to my groin. The palm at my tit became methodical, diabolical in its caresses and ignored the turbulence between us. My thoughts became muddled.
Kyle's tongue plunged between my lips. A moan vibrated through us, its author unclear but echoed by the other. My back arched, vulgarly serving my chest to him. He was beyond ecstatic to indulge, hands quickly tugging the seams of my clothing over my head. The night air bit into my skin, quickly perking the previously unattended breast. He took a moment to appreciate the dish before him, admiring the black bra that lifted my heavy bosom with gravity-defying magic. He dove in with a growl, lips and teeth feverishly tasting and nibbling at my flesh. I wanted to wail, the bites painful but oh-so-delicious to the sleepy nerves below my throat. I writhed beneath him, wriggling to lower us to the ground. He squeezed and grabbed like a teenager, licking and tasting with fervor. My spine had resumed its curve, my hands furrowing into his shoulder blades, holding his upper body to me. Goosebumps flushed my body, both from cold and lust that transcended a shiver up my spine. A hand snaked behind my back, stealthily unhooking my bra. It was tossed aside, forgotten, as he stared down at his prize.
"God, your tits are huge," he groaned.
I smirked, familiar with the obvious statement.
His eyes darted to mine, a devilish cast to them. He leaned down slowly while grabbing a breast with both hands. I whimpered from the rough feel of his palms against my soft skin. He kept my gaze, stopping an inch away from my nipple. His mouth opened, tongue slowly curling out, before he took a long, rough drag across it. My womb clamped impulsively as my breath caught in my throat. No man had kissed, let alone licked, my breasts in months. My nerves awakened with an agonizing, electric quake. I knew what would happen soon.
"Don't," I repeated.
Tongue still on my nipple, Kyle grinned. "What? Have you never done it before?" His words were muffled and slurred by the refusal to abandon my tit.
I groaned, slightly repulsed by the idea. "No, I haven't." The idea of a grown man sucking at my still lactating nipple disgusted me. I had tried to read erotica about it in the months prior, but the image just never appealed to me. And yet, I couldn't deny my rising heartbeat, the sudden thrill of forcing myself to do something revolting.
He must've sensed my thoughts as there was another lap at my breast. I growled, torn.
"You're enjoying it, you slut," he whispered.
The s-word, one of my many kryptonites. I whined, shaking my head, the dark feeling of defeat creeping into my stomach.
"Please," I implored, my voice sounding pathetic even to me. Why couldn't I move? Why didn't I shove him from me?
Because you want it, I thought. I turned away from him, needing to physically shake my head to clear my inner monologue.
A hand grabbed roughly at my jaw. "Look at me," he barked. His expression was malicious and, for a moment, fear sank into my bones.
Fear, another quirky aphrodisiac.
"Trust me," he crooned softly. The hold on my breast became gentler, merely cupping the mound.
I breathed for the first time in moments. Kyle smiled sweetly, reopened his mouth, and watched me as he took another swipe of his tongue.
It was magnetic. I gasped as I let my resolve flutter away, gasped as my detest morphed into titillation. He continued with a deliberate traipsing, the dredging of my nipple making me feel every bud of his tongue against the pink, erect flesh. Hormones surged forth, prompting the electricity of a letdown. Any objections needed to be aired now. I was at a loss.
His groan broke the spell as his mouth devoured my areola, pulling the rosy skin taut. I knew he no longer tasted just flesh. He was tasting me.