The drawings were less explicit than the photographs and didn’t seem to feature Betty at all. Some were obviously pure imagination—naked women floating amongst the stars and planets, nymphs and dryads frolicking in a glade—while others were much more realistic—men and woman in a variety of intimate couplings, clothed and unclothed. The quality was good and it took Ida no time at all to figure out that the website was an advertising vehicle for Betty’s artistic leanings—which definitely leaned toward the sexy, the erotic, the borderline obscene—because she had some photo references for some of her works and clearly labeled many of the works as thumbnail versions of full-scale commissions.
Ida didn’t know who would want a three foot by four foot charcoal drawing of a large-breasted kneeling woman giving a man a blowjob while he stood on a plaid rug, let alone who would want it hanging in their living room, but there it was. The common theme that ran through the works that Betty had done were women masturbating; that wasn’t surprising because it was a common theme for artists throughout the ages.
And none of that bothered Ida. What bothered her were a few of the drawings at the bottom of the webpage, the most recent ones. Again, they weren’t especially explicit, but the subject matter was familiar to her. Very familiar. Maybe it was Betty’s artistic interpretation, but the man in the last few drawings was most definitely Roger. The shape of his face, the proportions of his body, even some of the marks and scars that Betty had included in her interpretation made the man most definitely Roger.
The fact that Roger was depicted in every one of these drawings in the midst of fucking a woman wasn’t even the part that bothered Ida. No, the bothersome part was that the woman that Roger was fucking was, without any doubt, Betty.
There were a dozen different parts of the drawings that made Ida believe it was Betty, but it was the hacky butterfly tattoo above Betty’s ass that gave it away. There were no reference photos so the girl was using her imagination, or her memory, and Betty had spent a lot of time recording her and Roger together in every possible position.
By the time she was done viewing the pictures and the majority of the website, Ida didn’t know what to think. All she was certain of was that she regretted researching the other woman.
It was the note at the bottom of the page that caught Ida’s attention.
Of course I do commissions! No job too small or too explicit! Email me for rates!
The girl still didn’t know how to properly punctuate and had an affinity to use exclamation points at every possible turn.
That didn’t stop Ida from emailing Betty for her rates.
Ida was glad to be busy with Alexandra and Kate’s children for the next two days. It gave her time to think. It gave her a perspective on how fucked up her life had become, even though to a casual outsider observer, she would appear to have a perfect marriage and family.
She laughed aloud at that thought. It was patently false and yet so easily believable.
The two days of introspection also gave her the chance to become reacquainted with the use of her breast pump. Justine was nursing less and less. Maybe it was the interaction with the other children. Maybe she was just growing out of it. Maybe her baby sensed that Ida wanted to share her milk with someone else.
Thomas.
Just the thought of Thomas was enough to make her milk well up and start leaking. She knew that was fucked up. Try as she might to formulate a plan to invite Thomas over to nurse from her in the privacy of her own home, there was no way to work out the logistics. Having him over while Alexandra and Kate’s kids were there was an action that would have been far beyond the pale. Even that window of opportunity when just Sam and Justine were there was too much risk and violation. They might not understand or know what was going on, but the risk was just too much.
Instead she expressed herself with the pump and wound up wasting most of her milk down the drain. Some she tasted herself, but outside of the moment of lust, she had no real desire to drink her own milk. Justine had some mixed in with her baby cereal, but overall it seemed more effort than it was worth.
Except that Thomas kept texting her with requests and reminders that kept her pussy and tits primed and ready.
I can’t wait to suck your tits again.
My mouth is empty without your beautiful nipples.
Nothing is as sweet as your milk.
If I could only nurse from you and never fuck you again, that would be enough.
Ida wasn’t sure if he was completely serious about what he professed or if he was shamelessly flirting, but she didn’t question him on it.
And she didn’t help matters either.
I can’t wait to see you again.
I want your mouth and your cock.
Do most women know what it feels like to be fucked and sucked at the same time?
I want to lactate for you forever.
They were all stupid things that a schoolgirl would say to her crush…except what schoolgirl would promise to lactate for a boy? What normal woman would promise to lactate for anyone? It was a chore and a responsibility and was frankly a metaphorical pain in the ass and often a literal pain in the tit.
And yet her body ached to feel Thomas’s lips wrapped around her nipple firmly sucking the life out of her. It felt so good. Maybe she would even go so far as to say she liked it better than actual sex.
Maybe, but not just yet.
By the third day she was desperate to see Thomas because her tits were aching and sore. The slightest touch was painful. Every bump in the road bounced the car around mercilessly. She was so relieved when she finally arrived that she marched into his place without knocking. Naturally she was expected, but it almost felt like she was invading his home by walking in like that. Her need had gotten to the point where not only did her tits ache, but she had started leaking in anticipation of Thomas’s mouth giving her relief. The leaking got to the point where the milk had wetted through her bra and was dampening her dress.
“I need you,” she announced to Roger.
He looked up at her from the couch where he had his laptop perched on his lap as he scrolled through code that needed to be edited. “Okay,” he agreed and set the laptop aside.
He had barely managed this while she had unzipped her dress and left it crumpled on the floor. Stepping over it, she walked to the couch while pulling her wet bra over her head, freeing her tits. She didn’t care about subtle motions of romance and teasing before sex. She just wanted to be nursed. She needed the pressure relieved and Thomas was the only outlet.
He didn’t complain as she shoved her tits into his face. They had been doing this dance long enough for him to easily find her nipple and start nursing. As always, his hand went to her other breast, which was already leaking milk, to pinch the nipple and stop the loss of the precious fluid. When he did pinch the nipple, she immediately slapped his hand away and clutched her breast, forcing out some of the milk. It sprayed in random directions, but mostly onto Thomas’s shoulder, soaking his shirt.
Thomas didn’t mind and Ida didn’t care, even as her breast continued leaking which soaked both his shirt and his couch.
They settled their bodies together, moving like established lovers. She straddled his hips and felt his hard cock through his pants. The crotch of her panties was as wet as her bra or his shirt.
“You’re hard,” she complimented him, grinding her hips down on his rigid member. “I like that. Want to use it?”
Thomas looked up at her, his mouth full of her nipple. He audibly swallowed and let it slip from between his lips. “Of course. You don’t mind we don’t have…don’t have normal sex?”
“If I wanted normal sex I’d just stay at home and hoped that my husband would get desperate enough to fuck me when he got bored with his girlfriend,” Ida said as she scrabbled at his pants, opening his belt and dropping his zipper to haul out his perfect cock. She didn’t feel she had the time to properly undress so instead of abandoning her straddle of his body, she j
ust pulled aside her boring cotton housewife panties and lowered her pussy down on his cock, making it disappear from sight.
Right away Ida started rolling her hips, making his cock move within her body. She didn’t bounce up and down like an overenthusiastic gymnast because she was trying to keep her torso as motionless as possible so that Thomas could nurse from her. That’s what she wanted. That’s what he wanted. Sex was always better when she was nursed…and as she thought about it as Thomas nursed and she continued to roll her hips, she hadn’t had sex with Thomas that didn’t involve nursing. It was normal for her.
It made her wonder what sex with her husband would be like.
Would fucking him be like having sex for the first time again?
Would he know how to fuck her properly?
Would she hate it because he wouldn’t fuck and suck her simultaneously?
Would he know that she had been fucking another man?
Would it be better because she was fucking two men now?
Would it…would it…she had trouble concentrating because Thomas was rolling her left nipple while pressing her right nipple against the roof of his mouth. And then he had it between his teeth, not biting, but nibbling. There was the thrill and possible danger of what he could do with his teeth, and that made the sex better.
“Oh fuck,” she breathed. “I’m gonna cum.” The agitated motion of her hips became more vigorous, barely keeping his cock tucked into her pussy where it belonged.
“Cum then,” he encouraged her.
She shoved his mouth back onto her nipple. “Don’t fucking stop sucking,” she ordered him, clutching his face to her breast. It was difficult to balance herself exactly on the couch, but she was right there, and when she came, it was glorious.
She was a lactating woman fucking her lover who lived for her milk. Her husband was disinterested and all but useless in bed, that made the sex even better. Legitimate sex was bland; cheating sex was the best.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” she repeated over and over as she came, gasping and barely able to control herself. She stopped moving her hips and just clutched Thomas’s body. His cock was still nice and hard in her pussy as if it were they only for her pleasure.
It took her a minute to realize that Thomas was holding her in place as he continued to nurse. Without him she would have slipped off the couch and collapsed to the floor. She didn’t need him to nurse as desperately then as she first had, but it still felt incredible good. The very concept of leaving his lap and his cock that was like a stabilizing rod in her pussy was anathema to her very existence.
“I needed that,” she told him.
This time she allowed him to pull his mouth away to answer her. “I could tell. Want to move to the bed and continue this?”
She shook her head. “No. I want to stay here forever. You in my pussy. You sucking my tits.”
“My legs are going numb,” he said.
“Shit. Fine. Let’s move.”
They went to Thomas’s bed. As they walked, he shed his clothes. When they reached his bed, he pulled down her panties and noticed she still wore sandals. “It’s an old cliché that porn stars—the women, at least—never take off their shoes.”
“Are you calling me a porn star?” Ida asked while thinking about Betty’s lewd drawings. “Do you want me to fuck you with my shoes on?”
“Yes.”
“You can if you completely drain my tits,” she said, rolling onto the bed. He joined her, the both of them on their sides. His mouth found her nipple as it always did and they settled in to nurse. Somehow his cock had remained hard and it was just easiest for Ida to part her thighs just enough for him to penetrate between them. Once he was in position, she closed her legs and trapped his cock in the warmth of her thighs. It wasn’t normal sex, but they had never had normal sex.
Thomas spent the next half hour moving back and forth between her breasts, sucking all the milk from her that he could. It went from erotic to pleasant to annoying, but when he was done Ida felt like her tits hadn’t been this empty, this deflated in years. Certainly since before Sam’s birth. The amazing thing was that Thomas’s cock never fully softened. It changed in size and firmness, but it never shriveled up to almost nothing. That amazed her. She doubted Roger could keep an erection that long. When he was finally done with her tits, she wanted his cock back in her pussy.
There was no discussion. When he was done nursing, they moved together, this time him on top of her. As he moved, his cock got harder. She liked to think that he was fortified with her milk and now needed to expend some of the energy he had taken from her. Like any pair of lovers used to each other, she opened her legs and he moved into position, his cock welcomed into her waiting pussy. They fucked. They fucked blandly and almost without passion. They had transferred over to tenderness. It was what they both wanted. Thomas’s orgasm that ended their coupling was hardly notable, but he seemed happy with it.
Dressing and leaving was just another necessary step in their affair. Ida’s dress was mostly dry along with her bra; she barely register that her tits didn’t really fill the cups. They said little as she got ready to leave. There was one last kiss before she walked out the door.
At home, the afternoon and evening was much like any other day at her house: kids, dinner, husband comes home late, an empty hour of television, and then bed.
Maybe she was careless.
Maybe she didn’t care at all.
Maybe she thought that Roger noticed nothing.
Maybe she wanted him to see.
Ida got undressed in the bedroom as they readied for bed. She was happily exhausted and not thinking. When her clothes came off, she didn’t immediately grab a sleep shirt or pajamas. That was long enough for Roger to notice.
“What the fuck happened to your breasts?” he demanded.
Stopping dead in her tracks from where she was headed to the bathroom, Ida looked down at her chest and saw the marks and bruises that Thomas had left behind during his extended nursing session. Unbidden, a flicker of sexual thrill blossomed in her belly, but was immediately followed by a remorseless wave of guilt and shame. The lie came easily to her lips. “I’ve been using the breast pump. My boobs hurt because Justine is weaning and…” she didn’t finish the statement. They looked across the room at each other. “And the pump sucks too hard and bruises me,” she finished lamely.
There was no way the breast pump had left behind the bruises they were looking at.
Roger’s lip curled back. “You need to just suffer through it for a few days. I want to fuck you but you know I can’t. Not like that.”
She wanted to snap at him that her boyfriend was happy to fuck her with full, milky tits, but she bit back the words. Now was not the time. She wanted to let him know that she knew about his girlfriend, but she wanted real evidence.
Instead she turned and snatched a t-shirt out of her dresser and yanked it on, covering her breasts. It was a small shirt and didn’t cover her ass or pussy. “Easy for you to say, you don’t have to suffer through it.” Turning smartly on her heel she marched into the bathroom and closed the door. She ran water in the sink and paced in the small space waiting for the bedroom light to go out. She refused to cry. She wasn’t going to give in.
Part Three
Chapter Ten
Spying on Roger was easier than Ida thought it would be. She didn’t have to follow him around because of the info that Thomas had given her through Ernie, his so-called business associate. Between her mother and the babysitting exchange with Alexandra and Kate it was easy to pawn of Sam and Justine. The hardest part was actually catching them in the act.
As it turned out, Betty and her roommate Britni lived in an older style apartment building that had actual garden patio balconies. Once Ida figured out which apartment was theirs, it wasn’t too difficult to climb the railings to the second story balcony. Ida had spent too many summers in her youth climbing trees and being on the gymnastics team in school, even as a third-tier m
ember of the team, served her well in getting up where she needed to be.
She had only brought along her cell phone to record everything through the glass of the patio door. It was enough. Britni was gone (where it was by agreement or by work schedule, Ida didn’t care) giving the apartment to Roger and Betty. The young girl was slumped on the couch in the living room, one hand inside her bra playing with her nipple, while the other was resting on the man’s head between her thighs.
Betty wore only the bra. The rest of her clothes were crumpled on the floor in front of the couch. Roger was fully dressed. Ida couldn’t see his face but she knew her husband, even if she could only see the back of his head, she knew.
Either Roger had learned a lot about cunnilingus since the last time he had gone down on Ida which was…years ago?...or Betty was a very good actress. She was writhing around and moaning like Roger’s tongue was a magic vibrator perfectly paired to her pussy.
Without thinking Ida took some pictures. They were incriminating enough. She then started filming. The quality of the cell phone video would be potato level, but it would be enough.
Ida thought she’d be disgusted and angry at seeing her husband with another woman.
She wasn’t.
Maybe because she was cheating on Roger with Thomas, she was already in an accepting mindset.
Ida thought that when she saw them together, she’d go flying off the handle and confront the two of them.
She didn’t.
Her worst thought was that she would break down crying.
She discovered that this wasn’t the worst thing possible.
The worst thing possible, she discovered, was that she would be turned on seeing her husband with another woman.
Ida was turned on seeing Roger with his face in another woman’s cunt.
If anything, she was disgusted by herself more than by Roger and Betty.
She continued to watch. Either Betty orgasmed or she got tired of Roger’s cunnilingus. She pushed him away from her sex and encouraged him to get to his feet. She went to her knees in front of him. Ida couldn’t see everything, but it was obvious what she was doing. Roger’s pants slid down and Betty’s head started bobbing back and forth.
The Elliot Silvestri Erotic Reader Volume 6 Page 79