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Lactogenesis XXI: The Invitation (ff)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
LACTOGENESIS XXI: THE INVITATION
Chris and Sherri lay facing each other, nipples only millimeters
apart, the flush of a mutual orgasm fading from their necks and chests.
They were gently caressing each other, fingertips blending the droplets
and rivulets of breast milk which dotted their bodies in the aftermath of
their ardor into a thin film of moisture which they rubbed like lotion
into each other's skin. They had noticed on several occasions that
Chris's milk was thicker and whiter, while Sherri's tended more toward a
bluish tinge, like skim milk. A new bead formed on Chris's nipple and
began to run downward toward her cleavage. Sherri leaned in and deftly
caught it on her tongue before it disappeared into that moist, velvety
cleft. She smacked her lips exaggeratingly, savoring the sweet taste.
"Now I know why kittens are so crazy about milk," she said.
Chris rolled over onto her back, her still leaking breasts now
looking like miniature volcanoes, white lava trickling down their
considerable slopes. Sherri moved to finish sucking her dry, her hand
petting Chris's mons, still sticky-wet from her last ejaculation, in a
soothing rather than stimulating motion. Chris sighed deeply as she felt
the last ounces drain from her breasts. Sherri could empty her more
completely and more pleasurably than any pump could; and she was pretty
good at returning the favor. She shifted her weight and heard the
waterproof sheets between them and Sherri's bed crinkle softly in
response. She stroked Sherri's hair and languidly regarded the ceiling as
Sherri released her pulsing nipple and rested her cheek on one fleshy
pillow.
"I've really come to enjoy these times," Chris mused, "and I have to
admit that what we've been doing is unique and very special, and you're
about the most talented partner I've ever had..."
"But..." Sherri said. When Chris didn't respond right away, she
added, "Come on, hon, drop the other shoe."
"Oh, Sherri, what it boils down to is, I need a *man*. I know that
doesn't sound very 'Nineties', and I don't want to offend, but even though
I think this is great, most of the time I like the feel of a little razor
stubble on my neck or between my legs, a hairy chest, wrapping myself
around a good thick hard cock. You know what I mean, don't you?"
"Of course, Chris, and no offense taken. I know women are more the
exception than the rule for you. Me, it's six of one and half a dozen of
the other." She sat up and looked down at Chris. "You've had pretty
rotten luck lately in the male department, haven't you?"
"You said it. Ever since the paper ran that series on sexual
harassment in the workplace, my male coworkers have steered a wide berth
around me." She indicated her breasts. "I think these basically scare
the shit out of them. Anyhow, I think most of them subscribe to that old
adage, 'Don't get your pussy and your paycheck in the same place.' As for
chance encounters, forget it. I'm not going to pay for spontaneity with a
disease that could kill me. As for the guys in my building, those who
aren't gay or married run screaming from the room when they find out I'm
lactating." Sherri frowned chidingly. "Okay, I'm exaggerating. Bottom
line is, I think my standards might be too high."
Later, as they soaped each other down in the shower, Sherri suddenly
said, "I think it's time for me to put my Yenta hat on."
"Oh, God, Sherri, the last thing I need is for you to play
matchmaker. What if our tastes in men don't mesh? Something like that
could ruin a friendship."
By way of admonition, Sherri tugged gently on Chris's nipples. "Hey,
it's not like I'll be trying to find you a husband or anything. It just
so happens that I'm seeing a guy that I think you would really like. I'd
like to introduce you, that's all. If there aren't any sparks, no big
woop. If there are, then we'll go from there."
As they were toweling each other off, Sherri picked up the thread
again. "His name's Jeremy, and unlike that jerk Carl you told me about,
he happens to think mother's milk is the nectar of the gods itself. He
can't get enough. I've been fantasizing lately about what it would be
like to share him with you. Might actually finally quench his thirst.
Whenever we get together, he drains me dry and just wants more!"
"Sounds intriguing," Chris said. The sudden erection of her nipples
showed she wasn't lying. "Tell me more. What's he like?"
"Let's see. He's in his early thirties, kind of short, maybe
five-six, five-seven. Thin, but not skinny. Dark hair and eyes. Hair
everywhere, even on his shoulders. Has to shave twice a day. Nice prick,
seven inches easy. Nice sex drive, too -- he keeps up with me pretty
well."
"Better and better. What does he do?"
"Runs a travel agency. Very well connected. A lot of his clients
are upper-crust types, from the North Side. The kind of people who just
up and fly to the Riviera on a whim, you know? They've lined his pockets
well. Has a nice place on a few acres outside of town."
"Personality?"
"He has one. Sharp wit, pleasant conversationalist. A bit of a
brown-nosing type attitude, but that might be a result of the business
he's in. 'The customer's always right', you know the type. Not the most
brilliant guy you'd ever want to meet, but he's nice enough, and he's a
great lay. Come on, Chris, I don't have his damn resume with me. You
want to meet this guy or not?"
"I'm game. What do you propose, 'Yenta'?"
Sherri threw on a robe and began to gather up the sheets from the
bed. "Ever been to a good old-fashioned orgy?"
Chris was taken aback slightly by the question, even though that, as
far as sex was concerned, she'd grown to expect just about anything from
Sherri. "In this day and age? I thought those went out with Plato's
Retreat."
"This is very discreet. The group's fairly small, about 15 to 20
people tops. Jeremy runs the show. Hand-picks the participants, makes
sure everybody's clean, and has a crystal bowl filled with condoms parked
at the front door. I've already mentioned you to him, and he's very
anxious to meet you. He's set up the next party for a week from Saturday,
and it's going to have a Halloween theme. We're to dress up in a costume
that exemplifies our special sexual talents and desires. Sounds like a
hell of a lot of fun. What do you say?"
"I don't know, Sherri. Sounds a little out of my league."
"I've been to a couple of these. They're very relaxed. No pressure
to fuck anybody you don't want to fuck. Jeremy's place is big enough so
that you can go one-on-one with somebody in a private room, or just sit
and talk somewhere else, or play strip Twister with a dozen people if you
want to. The people are very cool, very low-key. Hell, there was even
one time when nobody even got naked. We just sat around telling stories
and getting each other hot."
"But the idea of doing it with a total stranger, or two, or ten..."
"Hey, Chris, don't wimp out on me now. Ever since you and I first
started bumpin' uglies, you've been wanting me to help you broaden your
horizons. Look how far you've come already. You turned a wet T-shirt
contest into a near-riot; you've been strapped to a table and ravished by
a couple of sex-crazed doctors; you blew your old boyfriend away; you've
discovered what making love with a woman can be like; and you've helped
turn me into a lean mean lactating machine. Seems to me that a simple
Halloween orgy should be a natural progression. I haven't steered you
wrong yet, have I? You do want to meet eligible men, don't you?"
"I guess I do need to lighten up a little." Chris paused, her face
scrunching up as she struggled to make a decision.
"You're thinking about it too much," Sherri said. "This is not for
your head, it's for your gonads. Go with your gut."
"All right!" Chris burst out. "I'll do it. You just promise to get
me out of there if I start getting uncomfortable."
"I promise." Sherri gave Chris a quick hug. "This is going to be
great. This is a week from Saturday, remember. You should start thinking
about a costume."
"Do you have any ideas yet?"
Sherri went to her closet and opened it. Inside hung a partially
finished costume. It was still in its early stages, but the color scheme,
white with large black spots, made it clear what it was going to be when
Sherri finished it.
"Omigod," Chris laughed. "A *cow*?"
"Why not?" Sherri shrugged. "Seems only natural, don't you think?"
<<to be continued>>
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