Milk Exchange

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Leanne was starting to feel desperate. She was at work and needed to pump her breast milk in her baby’s absence. It was just so much easier to have her baby latch on to her heavy breasts to take in the wonderful liquid gold her body produced.

Leanne believed fully in breastfeeding her baby for as long as she could. All through her pregnancy, she read up on all research about mothering. As much as she hated needles, she went with medical convention and allowed her baby to receive the necessary inoculations, albeit on a somewhat delayed schedule. But she would be damned if she would miss out on the more “hippie” convention of co-sleeping with her darling baby at night, and letting her baby receive breastmilk exclusively as long as she could manage it.

This commitment took at a lot of dedication, since she worked at a popular restaurant and is also one of the most popular waiters. Yes, she is a very attractive young woman, but she is also very good at what she does. Leanne has that special touch that makes everyone feel comfortable in her presence. Small children are thrilled to have her kneel down to take their order, the elderly are charmed by her genteel manners, the men of course wilt under her feminine allure, but somehow the women customers are never threatened by her.

She was a huge asset to the business, and even though she tried to cut back on her schedule after having the baby, she was still often called upon to come cover on a busy night, the manager even offering to help subsidize the cost of childcare if the baby’s grandmother can’t cover.

The restaurant manager—a mom of two, herself—prized her employee to the point where she insisted that Leanne be allowed to take a break in the middle of every shift and go pump in the manager’s office. This was testament to Leanne’s value, since no other employee got more than a smoke break on a busy night, let alone a leisurely 20 minutes to pump breastmilk while lounging on the comfy leather chair in the office.

But as happy and cared for as Leanne seemed to be on the outside, on the inside she was a hormonally charged young woman who, for the past 6 months, had not had the time or opportunity to enjoy a man’s touch, not since before her baby was born.

Her ex had not been thrilled to learn she had fallen pregnant, and while he would have stayed on to do the right thing, Leanne was never the sort of person to depend on someone else. She paid her way through school, and she wasn’t about to lean on some man who wasn’t in it whole-heartedly.

In truth, the relationship was already on the wane when the pregnancy test came up positive, and termination was out of the question for Leanne. Not because of religion, but because of principle. And anyway, she had plenty of family and friends to help her. She just wanted her baby out of the equation. The sidecar of a man was not essential.

It was really too bad. She and her ex were very well matched in bed. Now that she’s single, very often once her baby drifts off to slumber, Leanne would ride that peaceful post-breastfeeding high and bring herself off to orgasms or sometimes even two or three, dreaming of her ex enjoying her body with his swollen, dripping cock. There were times she’d come close to making a booty call to him, but she was too proud for that. Toys would have to do. She contented herself with working her clit with a vibrator while humping a chunky dildo.

It didn’t help that with all the breastfeeding, her hormones were raging and her breasts often full. She had thought that as the baby grew older, her supply would go down, but the more the baby fed, the more milk her body produced. And it’s true what they say about the woman’s metabolism staying high while she’s breastfeeding.

Leanne was always shapely, but with the current regimen, she’s actually down a dress size from pre-pregnancy days and up 2 bra cup sizes—from a nice C cup pre-baby to double DDs currently. Add to this her constant rosy complexion and glossy mane from all the surging hormones and production in her body, Leanne was in every sense of the term, a M.I.L.F.

+ + + + +

So there they were on a Friday night, the restaurant experiencing a huge rush, they were one staff member down, and Leanne was desperate for a small lull between orders to duck into the office for a quick pump.

It is difficult to convey the excruciating pain in a woman’s breasts when she is engorged. The milk ducts in the breasts actually fill up with milk to the point where they feel hard to the touch, like bricks covered in fleshy tissue. The mom can’t think about anything else, can barely breathe, and usually she is already starting to leak milk.

As any lactating mom would, Leanne had breast pads in place to soak up the leakage, but the pads’ absorbency is finite. She needed to change the pads soon, and more urgently, she needed to pump.

Finally, a window of opportunity arose. She has delivered a big order to a table and had taken down Escort Bayan the order of a new party (the other two tables in her station were mid-meal and were good for a while). She whispered to her friend and bar-back, Kenny, to keep an eye on the tables in case they need bread or water so that she can duck into the office. He nodded in understanding, this not being an uncommon occurrence.

She smiled gratefully and a bit flirtatiously at Kenny as she started to walk to the back and was already untying her smock. She knew he had a crush on her, and she, in turn, felt a big-sisterly fondness for him. The mutual comradery resulted in a very pleasant work vibe when they were on shift together.

She’s 28, and she knew he was a junior in college, so probably 20 or 21. Cute as can be, all gangly, long-lashed eyes, shy smile, and big hands. Like a big puppy. She probably seemed impossibly old to him, especially with a baby on her hands.

Finally, she made it into the office, flipped the door sign to “Women at Work,” closed the door behind her, plopped herself down in the big leather chair, and set up her pump. She leaves this pump at work, and there is a little fridge where she can store the milk, so everything was already in place.

As many lactating moms do, she wears a nursing bra equipped with a clasp at the top of each bra cup that she can just unsnap and draw down to reveal her breast and latch on the pump. Such that her breasts are still encased in the framework of the bra, but her heavy breasts are freed. Very often, she can’t help but think that her bosom looks very fetching this way, if only there were someone there to admire it.

Usually, she unclasps one bra cup, pumps, then undoes the other cup before switching sides. Double-sided pumps do exist, but since her baby only nurses from one side at a time (obviously), she wanted to replicate the same feeling when pumping.

So, on this evening, she latched the pump to the right breast—it always seems to fill up first and needs to be relieved first—and since she knew she had to be quick about it, she already had the other side undone. It was likely that, with the limited time, she would only be able to pump half of each side and finish later at the end of shift… or suffer the engorgement until she got home.

The pump’s latch finally on the right breast and the machine doing its work, Leanne slumped back slightly in the club chair, gave out a small sigh of relief, checked her watch (5 minutes each side, she tells herself, maybe 6), then allowed her eyes to close for a moment.

+ + + + +

Just then there was a soft knock at the door. It must be her friend, the manager. There is an unspoken rule that other employees are never to disturb Leanne while she’s in the office—hence the sign “Women at Work”!

Assuming it’s her friend, she called out, “Come in!”

The door opened a crack, which was puzzling because if it was her friend, she would just slip in quickly and close the door behind her for privacy.

A quiet male voice muttered from behind the door, “Uh, Leanne, it’s Kenny. I’m really, really sorry to disturb you, but the manager said to tell you…”

However, with all the noise from the restaurant, she couldn’t make out what he was saying. “What!?! Is that you, Kenny?? I can’t hear you… Just step inside but keep your gaze forward, hon.”

Kenny tentatively stepped inside, and as instructed, kept his line of vision trained in the direction of the hallway and repeated what he was saying, “… to tell you the waitress who missed her bus just made it in and will cover for you. When you come back out, she’ll open her station then. The manager said to take the time you nee…”

He must have forgotten why he was facing the hallway and out of habit (or perhaps because he couldn’t resist peeking), Kenny started to turn his head in Leanne’s direction as he finished his sentence. The sight of the fertile goddess Leanne—because that was exactly how she looked—made him trail off on his last words.

He remained stock still, gazing at Leanne seated in the club chair, with her uniform skirt riding halfway up her thighs (she was, up until then, by herself and not concerned with decorum), the pump attached to her right breast, and her heavy left breast already exposed, waiting for its turn to be pumped.

+ + + + +

Now, Leanne couldn’t have known this, but young Kenny has long revered and worshipped lactating women. We’ll never know if he would have developed this kink on his own, but both of his older sisters breastfed their children and, being crunchy granola types, were never shy about covering up when they did so.

He had absolutely no desire to suckle at his sisters’ breasts, but he never forgot the transition between the intense angst from needing to feed or pump, and the ensuing relief, even ecstasy, once the goal had been achieved. And he always admired the powerful image of the lactating woman, and Bayan Escort more and more, when he perused porn, he might enter the magic keywords “lactation,” “adult breastfeeding,” “ANR,” etc.

Add to this the fact that he already harbored a secret (or not so secret) crush on Leanne, admiring the way her body blossomed as she grew heavy with pregnancy, her already nice bust getting more and more full with each passing day. He knew the women at the restaurant thought he was young and perhaps inexperienced. The truth was he just had very specific tastes. And anyway, these days he only had eyes for Leanne, even though they seemed worlds apart.

He’s pulled on his heavy dick so many nights fantasizing about her, making love to her soft, full body, all the plush curves overfilling his hands and his mouth, running his tongue all over that warm skin, sinking his tongue deep in her pussy, lick her clit and make her cum again and again, and finally sinking his hot cock deep inside the cozy gateway to her womb. Fuck, she’s like a fertility statue come to life.

And once she had the baby, he watched in fascination as her body seemed to magically shrink while her breasts stayed full. He loved admiring her pregnant body, but her MILFY, almost bimbo-like, physique was also very, very appealing—the slim hips with the perky butt, the narrow waist, and fuck yes, the huge milky tits.

His fantasies now turned to perhaps watching her feed her baby, maybe saving a bit of her warm milk for him. Then once the baby drifts off to sleep, he would make slow and very thorough love to her, taking his time to give her body time to produce the next round of milk that, if he was lucky, she’d let him drink from her, and if he’s very, very lucky, let him do this while his cock is deep inside her hot pussy with her in cowgirl, her milky breasts half smothering him and feeding him.

He’s never seen Leanne pump her milk or feed her baby, but he’s seen his sisters do it umpteen times. And he’s never done it (well, maybe he did as a baby, but he wouldn’t remember it), but he would know exactly how to gently suck on a nipple to coax let-down—literally when the breast “lets down” the first drops of sweet milk before the real flow starts.

He’s envisioned this so many times, he can imagine it as if it has happened: with his gentle hand on her breast, just as the first drops of milk start to wink out of the nipple, he’d hold his tongue out, look up at Leanne, then wrap his college-boy lips around it, give the nipple a more insistent suck, much as a baby would. And drink. Long, steady swallows.

Simultaneously, he would move aside whatever clothing she was wearing, start to rub his thumb on her clit, first teasingly, then more insistently. His hand that had been on her breast would then likely move down to his bulge which he would rub and squeeze, getting it ready for her, to pleasure her…

+ + + + +

All this was going through his mind as he was half-turned towards Leanne, standing just inside the door. She noticed his voice had trailed off so looked up. For a second, he was petrified she would be angry that he was casting eyes on her. But she wasn’t. Perhaps she was distracted. Perhaps she was just too surprised. She held his gaze for a second then said quietly, “You want to close that door, hon?”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. He stepped quickly inside, closed the door, and turned the little latch to lock it. His head felt hot, yet he also felt a sense of calm. This was probably as close as he’ll ever get to realizing any part of his fantasies, if only to gaze at her womanly beauty as she did her mother’s business.

He stood there, somewhat transfixed, his eyes never leaving her wonderful bust, the breasts encased in her black nursing bra, with the familiar pyramid-shaped cups lowered, thereby featuring the breasts even more prominently. He could feel his young cock stiffen inside his work chinos, beneath his bar-back apron.

Leanne could see the fascination, appreciation and, yes, desire in his eyes. Not that this has ever happened before, but she bargained that most young men would run screaming if they encountered a woman pumping her breastmilk.

Kenny’s reaction was unexpected, peculiar, and a huge turn-on. And as mentioned, she hasn’t enjoyed a man’s attention or felt a man’s touch in a while. Already she could feel her neglected MILF pussy creaming readily.

“Could you give me a hand, Kenny?” she asked. “Would you take this filled-up bottle and put it in the fridge? I was just going to pump half of each side, but since you tell me I have time, I think I’ll just empty completely. This first one is already full though. I usually fill up 3 bottles between the two sides.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He knew she was only 7-8 years older than him, but he was brought up to address all females older than himself as “ma’am.” He slowly made his way towards her, as if in a trance, just as she was snapping shut the Escort top to the first filled bottle. He gently took it from her, the sensation of the body-warm milk permeating through the container to his fingers making his cock twitch, and he could feel a bead of precum seeping up. His head felt hot, and he was a little light-headed.

He was thankful to have a small chore to do for Leanne as a distraction, the few steps to the little fridge allowing him a small respite from the visual feast that was Leanne and her pendulant breasts and her curvy body. The bottle safely stowed in the fridge, he made his way back to Leanne and asked, “Do you need help with anything else?”

She looked up at him, not missing the bulge behind his apron, and said, “No, I don’t need anything, but I wouldn’t mind some company. I can cover up, if that’s better…?”

“No, you’re fine. My sisters used to breastfeed and pump with me present in the room. I kinda got used to it.” He answered.

She flashed him a small smile. “Did you stare at them, too?” she asked sweetly.

He smiled back sheepishly. “No, ma’am. I didn’t have a crush on my sisters. What they were doing was… biological.”

“Oh? Are you saying you have a crush on me? A single mom?” She asked, in an even more teasing tone.

“Uh, no, ma’am… I just meant I didn’t look at my sisters that way. I mean I was trying not to stare at them. Well, that didn’t come out right…” He trailed off, feeling like he was just putting his foot in it deeper every time he opened his mouth. Also, he found it hard to string two words together, so blindingly sexy was the vision in front of him, and her teasing didn’t help. He felt young. Silly. And incredibly horny.

“I’m just teasing, hon. Look at you, all red in the face. I’m sorry.” She laughed softly and affectionately.

He flushed an even deeper shade of beet red. “Well… to be honest… I’ve had a crush on you since I started here. You are so natural and easy with people, so good at your job, always so nice to me. Well, to everyone… And so pretty, of course.”

“Aw, thanks. At least ’til I got knocked up, right? I kind of wondered if a college boy like you would look at me and think, ‘there goes another townie, barefoot and pregnant.'”

“Oh my gosh, not at all. I’m so in awe of you. Kind of TMI, but my crush turned into a deep infatuation as your pregnancy progressed. You were so beautiful. Well, you are beautiful now, even more so.”

“OK, full confession: I always check when the schedule goes up every week to see when we work at the same time. Sometimes I switch shifts with the other bar-back to work the same nights as you. I have to be cool about it. I wouldn’t want him to figure it out. Although he’s probably too stoned half the time to notice.” He laughs, feeling self-conscious and wondering if he’s babbling.

“Well, aren’t you a sweetheart. You sure know how to make an old lady feel good about herself,” she replied, her eyes gentle, and still mindful of his obvious arousal. In the back of her mind, she thinks she should cover up more, but there is nothing to cover with, and anyway he had told her he was used to it. Or so he said. If she were honest, she would admit she just enjoyed his puppy-dog eyes on her. And his hard-on just a couple of feet from her face.

He chuckled lightly. “You may be older than me, but you’re no old lady. No, ma’am. You are what rude boys would call a M.I.L.F.”

She laughed and shook back her hair flirtatiously, her heavy breasts jiggling as she did so. “And would you?” She asked brazenly.

“Would I…” he repeated hesitantly, straining hard to hold her gaze and not let his gaze slip downward to her beautiful breasts.

“Like to F…” she teased.

“Well, ma’am. It’s not gentlemanly to admit it, but since you mention it. If I were ever lucky even to be given the chance someday. Yes, I would. In a heartbeat.”

“Well… it’s not lady-like to admit it, but maybe I would like you to. And maybe a little sooner than ‘someday.'” She replied shyly.

Kenny could feel his face hot with hopeful lust, or lustful hope, and could only reply, “You only have to say the word, ma’am.”

“Oh, hon, you have got to stop calling me ‘ma’am’. It’s making me feel old now.” She chuckled. She hesitated a moment before adding, “Well, since you asked if you could help me with anything else. There is something… it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Anything at all, ma’am,” he said without thinking, resulting in a quick laugh from both of them.

She continued, “Well, it’s been a while since I’ve gotten attention… from a man… with the baby and all… if you catch my drift. Will you… will you pay some attention to me while I finish pumping…?”

“I would be honored to help you in any way I can, ma’am.” He reached back and started to undo the tie to his apron then draped the uniform garment on the side chair. Slowly he sank to his knees between her half-parted thighs and lightly put his hands on the soft flesh. Leanne let her khaki skirt ride up a little further, while he stared longingly at her naked right breast, with one drop of milk already at the end of the nipple, like a raindrop except for its translucent pearly hue.

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