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Lactogenesis XXVIII: The First Client part 1 (mf)
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 XXVIII: THE FIRST CLIENT, PART ONE
"I don't know about this, Jeremy," Christine said, as she surveyed
the "setup" that Jeremy had placed in one corner of her kitchen. In the
intervening days since she had consented to his proposal that they make
use of her special talents to make money by starting a business providing
lactation services, Jeremy had taken the ball and run with it. Now, where
there used to be a spice rack, there was a separate phone line coming
through the wall with a state-of-the-art answering machine/cordless phone
combination, a line switching device, and a fax machine hooked to it.
Chris glanced at the business card Jeremy had thrust into her hand. It
read:
THE LAC-STATION, LTD.
Lactation Services
--Breast Milk Sales--Wet Nursing--Consultation--Etc.--
Rates Negotiable call 555-MILK
"When Only Nature's Way Will Do"
He had just picked up two thousand of them from the local print shop.
Now he looked concerned. "Not getting cold feet before we even
get started, are you?"
"Not really. I just wasn't expecting...this." With a sweeping
gesture she regarded the whole picture -- not just the equipment and the
cards, but Jeremy's seemingly overzealous attitude.
Jeremy walked over to Chris and gave her a peck on the lips.
"Don't you worry about any of this. Promotion and scheduling is my
department. You just take care of production." He ran a hand across
Chris's unbelievable bosom, causing that tingling sensation to start up in
it. Chris was vaguely reassured to feel it, since it made her remember
that her hedonistic side really wanted to do this, really wanted to
explore the new sensual possibilities that "The Lac-Station" would
provide. Now that she was boycotting the local milk bank, she didn't want
her daily production to go to waste. Why *not* make some money from the
situation? As it was, Jeremy's near-constant stimulation of her breasts
had kept them fairly overflowing with milk for some time now -- what
better way to get rid of it (other than spraying him down with it, that
is)?
Jeremy took the business card from Chris's hand and replaced it
with a fax, recently torn from her machine. "You didn't read this, I
see," he chided her. "I faxed this earlier today. It concerns our first
client."
"Sorry, hon, I didn't notice it," she apologized. She scanned the
paper briefly. "Who are these people?"
"Friends of mine," he replied, smiling. "I thought it would be a
good idea to start off with someone familiar, someone I know something
about." He could see she wasn't interested in reading every detail, so he
decided to give her the short version. "Bill is 45 and already retired
from his investment firm. He made his money in leveraged buyouts; now he
lives on the proceeds from his stock investments. Spends several hours a
day on his computer. His wife Eleanor is 34, a product of old money,
silver spoon all the way. Probably wore Chanel diapers. She's very well
connected in the local social scene, so much so that she doesn't want to
be 'tied down' by their new arrival. Their son Thad is six or seven weeks
old, cute as a button. Eleanor has been nursing him, but has decided that
it's ruining her figure, her designer clothing, and her calendar. She
wants to continue to provide Thad with the benefits of breast milk, but
now that the immunological aspects are pretty much overwith, she would
like to use someone else's breast milk to feed him. Now here's the
kicker. She only wants someone who Thad likes."
"What do you mean?" Chris asked, puzzled. "Why should a
seven-week-old baby care who the milk comes from?"
"He doesn't, of course," Jeremy said. "Eleanor's weird in this
regard. She wants to be sure that Thad has a chance to meet and approve
the donor. I guess that if, upon seeing you and/or tasting your milk, he
starts to cry, then the deal's off."
"You mean she wants me to nurse him myself?"
"Just the one time. If he's comfortable with you, then Eleanor
will be too. From that point on she'll feed him your milk with a bottle
-- although I'll be willing to bet that Bill will get stuck with a lot of
the feedings while she's off galavanting around with her cronies."
"Jeremy, I've never nursed a baby before. I've hardly ever been
around babies. I wouldn't know what to do."
"Eleanor will talk you through it, I'm sure."
"I don't know..."
"Come on, sweetheart. I know these people. Eleanor's a little
eccentric, but they're basically regular folks. Most of our future
clients will be quite a bit less 'regular', I can assure you. This is the
perfect way to get our feet wet, so to speak. And, it's worth a thousand
a week."
"Good Lord. You're kidding."
"Eleanor must be desperate to get back to her social climbing.
She doesn't mind paying dearly for the privilege of hand-picking the
donor. She disguises it as concern for her child, but I'm sure this is
just another one of her ways of rubbing the rest of our noses in the fact
that she is filthy stinking rich."
"I don't have to babysit, change diapers, like that?"
"Nope. They have a nanny for all that."
"Great. Let's go take these people's money. When do we meet
them?"
Jeremy smiled sheepishly. "In about a half hour. You should have
read the fax as soon as it came in."
Chris glanced at the clock, then gave herself a once-over in the
full-length mirror on the hall closet door. "I suppose I can be ready in
time. God knows I can spare the milk. There's hardly a time when I'm not
full, thanks to you." She hefted her breasts slightly and could almost
feel the milk sloshing about inside.
Jeremy walked up behind Chris and replaced her hands with his.
"You know you make me crazy when you feel yourself up like that." He
began kneading her boobs gently. His hands weren't anywhere near large
enough to completely contain them. Chris leaned back against him, feeling
the ridge of his rapidly growing erection press into the crack of her ass.
She felt her nipples stiffening at roughly the same rate as Jeremy's
penis. She began wiggling her ass up and down, which served to bunch the
material of her short skirt up at her waistline. Jeremy quickly reached
down to unzip his zipper and liberate his cock, which he began rubbing
against the material of her panties. His hands returned to Chris's
breasts, whose nipples were clearly showing through her blouse. She began
unbuttoning it frantically, afraid that if she didn't hurry, she'd
certainly stain it with the blast of milk that she felt building up.
Jeremy reached back down and roughly yanked Chris's panties down
in the back, exposing her lovely rounded ass. He moved his fingers down
along her crack and around, where they instantly became coated with
Chris's copious nectar. He used his wet hand to lubricate his cock, and
then swiftly entered her from behind. He had to stand on tiptoe to fully
penetrate her, as she was taller than he. This put him slightly off
balance, and the two of them pitched forward against the mirror. Chris
gasped at the force of Jeremy's entry, but was already wet and open enough
to accommodate him. Her breasts and cheek mashed against the glass,
sliding up and down as Jeremy pounded into her. Milk welled up around her
flattened boobs and flowed freely down the mirror. Jeremy cupped his
hands under her breasts and lifted her back away from the glass. Torrents
of milk splashed upward and outward, soon completely obscuring their
reflections in a web of tiny downward-flowing rivers.
Chris wanted to feel him deeper, so she leaned forward and rested
her hands on bent knees, effectively lowering her ass. Jeremy used the
increased leverage to sink himself to the hilt, driving the breath from
Chris's lungs. His hips became a blur as he repeatedly pulled almost all
the way out and then slammed it home again and again. After about two
minutes of this, Chris suddenly squealed and came, gushing her juices both
ahead and behind. Jeremy's pants were instantly soaked, as was the
carpeting at the bottom of the mirror. Jeremy followed within seconds,
mixing his own cum with hers into a frothy brew that coated both partners'
nether regions.
When Chris regained her breath, she looked over her shoulder at
Jeremy, then turned and quite unexpectedly punched him in the shoulder.
"Drat you anyway," she said. "Now we're going to have to change clothes
and clean up. You're going to make us late!"
"Do you have any left for the little guy?" Jeremy asked as he
reached for a handful of Kleenex.
"Are you kidding? By the time we get there the needle will be on
F again."
<<to be continued>>
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