by Jolene Avonn
Clare hadn’t wanted to make this call. She knew what would happen if she headed down that road.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and dialed.
~~~
Clare heard the mower when she spun the shower faucet off and walked, wrapped in a towel, in to her bedroom. She’d left the bathroom door open so she could listen for Charlie, who was still sound asleep in his bassinet.
She stood near the window and peered out. Tyler was in the back yard. He was starting a brisk back-and-forth pattern across the grass.
Clare slowly let out her breath. Tyler was significantly taller than Tony, and he had broad shoulders. He wore a gray t-shirt soaked with small patches of sweat, and ragged blue jeans. His arms were a deep tan, his thick wavy hair nearly black. His lower body looked powerful – a muscular ass filled out the jeans nicely as he worked.
Once he changed direction, Clare saw Tyler’s face. She smiled slightly. He was frowning in concentration, oblivious to the voyeur upstairs. He hadn’t shaven in several days but the stubble gave him a grizzled appearance that sent a thrill through Clare before she even realized what was happening.
He looks like a man on a mission. Then: I wish I was his mission.
Clare laughed nervously, slowly positioning herself behind a curtain. She continued watching Tyler, following every ridge of muscle in his forearms up through his shoulders. When he turned a tight corner, his shirt lifted just enough for Clare to catch a glimpse of his back. It could have been chiseled from marble.
She let the towel drop to the floor.
She wanted to see all of him. She closed her eyes and imagined Tyler coming in for a cool drink of water. She wouldn’t say a word – she’d walk up to him and lift his shirt over his head and run her hands over every inch of his upper body, tracing the lines of his chest and abs with a single index finger, basking in the scent of fresh sweat and cut grass and the undertones of his musk.
He’d feel taut. Tense. Slippery. He’d suck in his breath when she circled his nipples.
She’d push up against him, so hard her breasts pressed together and swelled against his chest. He’d slide a firm thigh between her legs and she’d start a slow grind, working her pussy into his quad as he flexed back at her. He’d take her face in his hands and kiss her hard. He’d taste like salt and his lips would be cool from the glass of water he dropped on the floor when he shoved his hands under her shirt and squeezed until her dark nipples tensed and dripped.
Mmmmmmmmm. That thigh would be pumping harder now.
Clare’s hand slid between her legs and she pressed her palm against the top of her pussy and let her fingers glide down, covering her outer lips and nudging them apart. She was already delightfully slippery, and her fingertips glided over her sex like tiny wet kisses.
A giddy warmth flooded over her. Clare’s eyes opened, fluttered, and stayed half-lidded as she watched Tyler pacing around the house. Her breasts were covered by the cool satin-y fabric of the curtains; the slight movement caused by a breeze from the floor register sent tingles from her nipples straight to a spot below her navel. She imagined Tyler’s hands caressing her full breasts ever-so-gently. He’d cup them, glide over them, and then twist a nipple just so, teasing it to an even stiffer peak.
Clare’s hand was slick and moving fast. She slid two fingers between her lips and pressed in on herself, diving into her pussy and retreating, then diving down again. Her breath quickened and her head nodded forward. She even bent down a bit, and then stood, to feel the curtain slide along her chest. Her nipples were damp from tiny drops, the same leaking she’d experienced when she pleasured herself to sleep at night. Her breasts were so full and so heavy that a few blue veins glowed underneath her pale skin.
What would he do with her? With these massive orbs on the verge of gushing? She couldn’t imagine a man like Tyler even considering joining in this fantasy. She’d have to be content, hidden in her room, massaging her clit with more and more pressure from her palm.
Then, cruelly, the lawnmower cut off. Clare snapped to attention in a rush of panic. She’d lost track of time. She’d practically drenched herself there, wrapped up in the curtain. Tyler walked toward the front of the house.
Shit! He’s going to want his money!
Clare scrambled to find the clothes she’d laid out on the bed: bikini-cut white panties, khaki shorts, and...no bra. She couldn’t find her bra. She heard Tyler’s heavy steps on the front porch, and all she could do was grab a pink tank top and head for the stairs, pulling the shirt over her head as she went.
Jesus!
Clare caught sight of herself in the hallway mirror. The tank top had little hope of downplaying her swollen breasts. In fact, they looked even bigger with the thin fabric stretched so tight that her wide, dark nipples were prominently outlined.
The rest of her, she had to admit, was coming along great – she could wear her old shorts without fear now, and she noticed pleasant tight roundness in the back. Her legs were just starting to return to their pre-Charlie shapeliness. She even saw a calf flex as she sprinted to the door, still-damp hair sticking to her neck.
“Coming!” she shouted. “I’m coming!”
She pulled the door open and stifled a gasp. There was Tyler, all six-something of him, looming on her porch.
“Oh!” she said.
“Miss Kenseth?” he said.
“Yes! Call me Clare!”
“Looks like everything’s in good shape now, Clare, unless there’s anything else you need,” he said, offering his hand. “The name’s Tyler. I think we’ve met once before, at a block party.”
Clare nodded maniacally, unable to stay calm, and then reached out. Tyler wrapped her tiny hand in a firm handshake. His warmth radiated up her arm and she staggered back a step. Her cheeks flushed – she remembered as soon as they touched that she hadn’t even wiped her hand clean. Would he smell her eagerness?
“Uhhh, kitchen,” she stammered. “You’re right. The block party, definitely. I forgot my purse. Kitchen.” Clare pointed over her shoulder, turned, and walked away so quickly that her breasts swayed.
Get a hold of yourself, Clare! He probably barely remembers you!
“Sure,” Tyler said after a pause. He wiped his shoes on the doormat before following her.
All along the quick trip, Clare imagined Tyler staring at her ass and legs. She hoped he liked what he saw. When she got to the kitchen she stood on the other side of an island counter, trying to put something physical between them. She wasn’t sure how to handle the feelings starting to wash over her – a mix of fear in the face of a tall stranger, and an eagerness for his presence that she had trouble understanding.
Tyler strode in and scanned the room quickly, his eyes settling on Clare with an odd mix of interest and impatience.
“So,” Clare said, leaning over and fumbling with her purse. “Been in the neighborhood long?”
“Uh, four months,” Tyler said. “I’m a recent transplant. Divorce.” He chuckled awkwardly.
Clare glanced up. Tyler smiled stupidly and looked away, and Clare blushed. She realized she’d given him an impromptu show when she leaned forward.
Tyler’s shirt was dark gray, completely soaked through with sweat. It was skin-tight across his broad chest. Clare wanted to run up and press against him, just to feel how muscular he really was.
“Ahh, I see,” Clare said. “I’m sorry to hear that. You know, I have to say that when Sharon told me you’re a computer guy I was kind of...surprised?”
Tyler laughed and his lean cheeks revealed two small dimples.
Of course. Dimples.
“Yeah, well, we don’t all fit the stereotype,” Tyler said. “Most people assume I was some kind of jock. All I did was water polo. Nobody even knew what that was.”
Tyler moved closer to the counter. “I hate to rush things along,” he said. “But I do have to get going. Sharon asked me to do her lawn again this afternoon.”
Water polo. Right.
That explains the muscles. The stamina. The power...
“Right!” Clare said, snapping back to attention. “It was twenty bucks, right? And I was thinking, maybe you could take a look at this squeaky hinge over here if you have a second.”
“Yeah,” Tyler said. He hesitated, and Clare looked up from her purse.
“What is it?” she said.
“Umm, your shirt. You have something on your shirt.” Tyler fidgeted.
Clare looked down and saw two small dark circles forming. She gasped and covered her chest.
“Shit! Oh my god. I’m sorry. I’m so embarrassed!”
“Is that – ”
“Um, yeah,” Clare said. “It’s milk. I’m nursing. My baby Charlie is upstairs.”
Tyler’s expression turned serious.
“I’m really sorry,” Clare said.
“Don’t be,” Tyler said. “Totally natural. I understand. What were we talking about? Where’s the hinge?”
Clare gathered herself, tugging her shirt absentmindedly, and took a deep breath. “Yes. The hinge. Over here.” She walked to the door that led to the garage and pointed. “I think it’s this one.”
Tyler came up close behind her. She could smell the fresh sweat and she nearly swooned. Her face burned with embarrassment. The circles on her shirt were growing. So was something else, something that was also wet. She couldn’t turn off the part of her that had been so turned on upstairs.
“I see,” Tyler said softly. “No problem. I can bring something over for that.”
He was right behind her now. Clare could hear his soft breathing. She kept her back to him and stared hard at the door, fighting the voices in her head.
What are you doing, Clare? Think of Tony! This man is only here for the lawn, anyway, even if he is perfectly gorgeous and kind and...you should ask him to go. Now!
Forget Tony! Forget him! Tony’s probably fucking some slut in Tokyo!
“Good,” Clare whispered.
“Does it hurt?” Tyler said. His voice made the hair on Clare’s neck stand up.
She tried to steady her pulse. A heat filled the space between her and Tyler. A strange, warm buzzing filled her ears, that kind of sound you experience before a first time of...something powerful.
Clare looked down. “It’s not so much hurt as it is an achiness,” she said softly. “I never expected this kind of feeling. Not in a million years.”
Tyler waited a moment, and then said, “What do you do about it?”
“I use a pump,” Clare said. It seemed like Tyler was even closer. She laughed nervously. “Pump pump pump. Ha ha. It helps a little.”
Another pause. Then, Clare let out a small cry as Tyler placed his heavy, warm hands on her shoulders.
“Clare,” he said, “I know this is crazy and I’m sorry for doing this this way, but I can’t get over how beautiful you are.”
Clare could barely breathe.
“When we met at the party, well, ever since then, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“I know,” Clare whispered. “Me, too.”
“I want...you. To help you.”
Tyler slid his hands down Clare’s back and then reached forward, guiding them under her folded arms. He cupped her breasts incredibly gently, and then held absolutely still.
The sensation made Clare’s thighs tremble. Tyler’s hands were huge, almost big enough to cover an entire breast each. And he touched her so softly. Like he was holding a precious porcelain doll.
Clare closed her eyes. Her chest was hot. Her nipples hardened even more, pushing out against Tyler’s hands. She felt herself leaking, and she was suddenly ashamed.
“Not...not now,” she said. “I want. I mean, I want to, but I can’t. Not like this.”
Tyler didn’t move. “Like what?” he whispered.
Clare bit her lip. Tears flooded her eyes. She was desperate, and felt humiliated at the same time. Finally, she belted out, “My breasts! This! This...fucking milk! Nobody wants to see me like this! Just let me go, Tyler. Let me go.”
Clare squirmed, but Tyler tightened his grip. He compressed his hands and pulled Clare to him.
“Let. Me. Go!” Clare yelled, struggling harder.
“No,” Tyler whispered. He started to massage Clare’s chest, squeezing lightly on her right side, then her left, right, then left, side to side.
Clare was staggered. She’d never felt anything like that before. She was still fighting with Tyler, trying to break free, but the bolts of sheer pleasure striking each of her swollen breasts wore her down.
“Ohhhhh, let me go, Tyler. Oh!” she cried. “Please. Stop.”
“No,” Tyler said, louder this time. He squeezed her against his body even harder. Something thick pressed against her bottom. “I can help. I want to help. You need it. You want it, Clare. Just like I do.”
Tyler spun Clare around, planted those big hands on her shoulders, and backed her against the garage door.
Clare sobbed again, and swiped at hair that had stuck to her tear-stained cheeks.
“Don’t you want it?” Tyler said, leaning down to look into her eyes.
Clare nodded.
Tyler wiped her cheek with his thumb. “Then stop this. Stop it now, Clare.”
“But – ”
“Stop!”
Tyler pushed her against the door again, so hard that her breasts jiggled in small waves. Clare’s head felt wobbly and hazy. She stared in to Tyler’s dark brown eyes and watched his soft lips as he spoke to her, lectured her, really, and she didn’t even listen to his words. He nodded at her and she nodded back. Then he dropped to his knees.
Clare was petite, and Tyler was quite tall, so his face lined up just below her chest when he knelt before her. Tyler reached up and slowly lifted her shirt, sliding it carefully until it gathered underneath her breasts. Then he shoved it around and over. The fabric was tight against her nipples and caught enough to lift each swollen orb slightly before slipping up and letting the full flesh drop with a satisfying bounce.
Clare breathed in. As her lungs filled, she felt even larger. Tyler sighed and placed his hands directly over her nipples and held her like he had before – gently and carefully.
He moved his hands around and over with his skin barely grazing hers. When Clare closed her eyes, it felt like someone had taken the chenille blanket from her bed and used it to brush her all over with a piece of warm velvet.
It was almost too intense. Almost. The heat between Clare’s legs grew with a surge, her wetness soaking the cotton panties, her outer lips blossoming open slightly and clinging to the tight fabric.
Tyler continued his caresses. Clare watched his face – he was enraptured. He studied her swollen, aching breasts like they were the most amazing things on the planet. He wiped the tiny rivulets of milk that dripped from her nipples, swirling a finger in a lazy circle before brushing it across his lips. He pushed up on each breast gently, and then let it fall back into his hand, overflowing the edges of his fingers and palm.
Tyler shook his head, in awe. “My god, Clare,” he murmured.
Then he started to kiss her.
Clare worked her fingers into his cool, damp hair and pulled him close. Tyler pressed his lips to the underside of a breast, then brushed them up until he found a nipple and sucked gently. His mouth was warm and tender, his motions like small nibbles, and he never stopped moving. He feathered her chest with kisses.
Once Tyler had a small taste of her milk, he turned his complete attention to Clare’s nipples. He sucked tentatively, and then moaned in appreciation as he was rewarded with a few drops. Clare was so overwhelmed by his patience that she had to speed things along.
“Here,” she murmured, holding a breast in two hands so her nipple pointed directly at Tyler’s mouth. “You can press harder. With your lips.”
Tyler nodded, then sucked her nipple between his wet lips and began to mouth, firmer than before.
Clare groaned, accidentally tossing her head back
hard enough to bang on the door. Her legs were weak. She couldn’t take much more.
She began to squeeze her breast, wringing it in a slight downward motion, until the trickle of milk became a longer, constant stream. Tyler’s eyes widened in surprise. He started sucking her faster, a tiny trail of milk gracing his chin.
Clare massaged her breast steadily, feeding her milk in to Tyler’s eager mouth. She realized she was rocking her hips. Her pussy was soaking and hot. She paused her milking long enough to grab one of Tyler’s hands and guide it toward her shorts. Her increasingly intense moans told him what to do.
At the same time Clare resumed milking, Tyler worked his hand between her legs and pressed firmly against her crotch. Clare’s legs almost gave out. She put nearly all her weight on Tyler’s hand and writhed against it. She could feel her pussy swelling with a pure, soaking heat.
That, combined with the relief of Tyler sucking her breast, drove Clare absolutely wild. She worked her tit harder, using one hand to pull Tyler to her chest while the other squeezed until her nipple protruded in all of its dripping, dark brown glory.
Finally, feeling nearly empty on one side, she guided Tyler to her other breast. He cleaned up stray drops with wide swaths of his tongue, and then latched on. He never stopped fingering her through her shorts, even as he held a hand to her breast and helped her squeeze and milk and squeeze and milk.
Clare tipped her head back again. She had a hand on the outside of her breast, Tyler on the inside. Together, they milked in tandem. She used her free hand to stroke his hair. He used his free hand to tug her zipper down and pull her panties aside. When the first thick finger stroked her pussy, she cried out. Over and over.
Clare’s hips swiveled against the door and Tyler’s hand, fireworks launching from everywhere he touched her body.
Tyler pulled hard at Clare with his lips, taking her entire nipple in to his mouth again and again, sucking her until she could no longer keep her arms up to help. She dropped her hands to her side and submitted to the complete sensual overload. She barely noticed when Tyler eased back and tugged her shorts and panties to her ankles. He moved both hands in to a slow massage of her sated tits, and pressed his mouth to the soft, light patch of hair above her clit, where he let out a low moan and inhaled deeply.