No one seems to appreciate a tall, creamy glass of milk anymore. Milk comes in every variety you can think of: no-fat, low-fat, lactose-free, and don’t get me started on that almond shit. Me, I want it straight from the source.
Sometimes, I keep myself awake in bed before my Monday morning delivery of fresh milk. It’s that thick creamy splendor that gets delivered to my door from a local cooperative. The hum of the V-6 engine lets me know that my dairy delight is on the way.
Beth was fetching the milk from the back of the truck when I arrived at the front door in my bathrobe. If I’m being honest with myself, she probably has something to do with those sleepless nights.
“Need a hand?” I yelled.
“I got it. Thanks, Mr. Thompson.”
Her black leggings pulled snug over her gorgeous ass as leaned into the back of the truck. The morning sun exposed her blue panties through her stretched fabric. The panty-lines curved perfectly over her ass.
Fuck, I wanted to give her more than a hand.
Beth’s a new mom, and she was finally trying to squeeze back into all her petite clothes from her old life. Her ripe breasts barely fit into a flannel shirt that was open three buttons down. Her breasts were held tightly together, bursting out of a bra that was visible as she made her way up the stairs.
Beth handed over the clanging crate of milk and tried to catch her breath.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I should have…”
“No, no, it’s good for me,” she said.
Beth had icy blue eyes that often seemed sad, but I thought I had a way of helping thaw them out. You’re probably thinking I’m full of shit. Sure, I gave her generous tips and fawned over her dairy products. But we always had this weird connection, and it was about to get weirder.
“How are you?” I said.
“Besides being out of shape, getting no sleep, and having no sex, I’d say I’m doing all right.”
“Well, I know of those things is not true,” I said.
Beth pulled her frizzy bangs out of her eyes, which wrinkled with a big smile.
“Looks very fresh,” I said.
“Only the best jugs for you, Mr. Thompson.” Her eyebrow and lips curved like she intended to be awkward, but I laughed it off.
Beth seemed more distracted than usual. She kept peering down her chest.
“Everything OK?” I said.
She slid her hand under her bra. “Oh, fuck!” she said.
She hurried past me into the house. I followed behind with the milk crate and found her in the kitchen. She was already in front of the sink and seemed to be rubbing a stain off her shirt or something. “Do you have any more paper towels?” she said.
I set the milk crate down on the kitchen island and grabbed another roll of towels from the cupboard. As I approached, she turned to face me. Her shirt was unbuttoned all the way down. The cups of her bra were pulled under her breasts, which she was clamping with paper towels.
“Oh my God, where are my manners?” she said. “I just have a little situation here. I forgot to pump this morning.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Beth.”
She reached for the fresh roll of towels, and I wasn’t able to look away before seeing her throbbing nipple.
“It’s OK, Mr. Thompson. You’ve never seen a tit before?” The wink gave me permission to laugh.
I stood by preparing fresh towels as she dabbed them on her oversized breasts. The tight skin of her tits seemed to shine. It looked painful.
“Does it hurt?” I said.
“It’s feeling better,” she said. She held the towels under her stretched-out nipples. There were tiny indents at the top where white droplets were collecting and dripping onto the paper towels.
“Have you ever tasted it?” she said.
“I mean, it’s been a while.”
We both laughed.
“It’s sweeter than you’d think.”
Beth collected some milk on her finger and quickly poked it with her tongue. She dabbed another drop on her finger.
“Do you want to try?” she said.
“Ummm, I, uh.”
“Oh, come on,” she said. “It’s just milk.
She held it up to my lips. I opened my mouth and slid her finger over my tongue.
I resisted comparing the consistency to skimmed milk, which I thought might be offensive. “You’re right, it’s really sweet,” I said.
“Listen, I got a truck full of orders to deliver before noon and I can’t wait this out,” she said. “Maybe you can do me a favor?”
“Sure, anything,” I said.
“You know what I’m asking, right?”
Her eyes focused on mine as she squished the heels of her palms into her breasts, swelling them outwards as milked leaked down and trickled into the little pockets of wrinkled skin on her tummy. Beth pulled off her shirt and dropped it to the floor. She reached back to unclip her bra and let it fall off. She took a few steps back to the island counter, pulling my hands to her waist.
“Help me up?” she said.
I felt the top of her soft ass as I propped her up on the counter. I was nearly face-to-face with her leaky breasts.
She put her hand on my shoulder and guided me to her left tit, which was sloppy with sweetness. My hands grasped her breasts firmly, increasing the flow of milk. It took me by surprise and I let up to ease the intake.
I sucked and licked my way across her breasts in a frenzy. My hands and face became covered with her milk.
“Easy, easy,” she said. “Focus now.” She clamped me onto her right tit.
I had lost myself in a milky bliss when I noticed her hand was tensing up on my neck. Her fingernails gripped into my skin and her breathing was picking up. She moaned sweetly.
I took a hand off her breast and slowly found my way to the waistline of her leggings. I dropped my hand to her thigh and moved it down and inwards until I felt her fleshy mound. She let her legs open wider as I pressed two fingers deeper into the depression of her slit. I felt a hint of wetness, that got me excited — a little too excited.
“Slower,” she said. “Gentle.”
I continued to take in her milk and massage her clit through her leggings. She seemed to like it enough that I crept my hand up to her waistline and stuck my hand down her pants.
She pulled my hand behind her and let me slip it under be leggings and underwear over the soft skin of her ass. “I’m still a bit of a mess down there,” she said.
Still, she liked the idea. I could feel her hand going down past me. I didn’t see where it went but I could hear the sound of squishing wet skin.
My dick was desperately seeking to rise out of my flannel pajama pants and boxer shorts. I leaned in slightly and pressed myself forward until I felt the knobs of her hands, which were moving really slow, against my shaft.
“Hmmmmmmm,” she said.
She pulled me into a squished breast. “Bite me!” she demanded. “Squeeze my big titties. Yes, yessss.”
The flow was getting out of control, and I kept as much as I could from running down her stomach.
“Ohh, gawd,” she screamed. “I’m coming, I’m coming!”
As she ascended, she pulled me into a headlock, nearly suffocating me in her big bosom. She leaned all her weight back against the counter as her squirming body collapsed toward the center. For a second, I thought my neck might break.
I was desperately out of breath when she released me from her breasts. Her legs were twitchy by my side, and she couldn’t be touched. Her hand was shaking as she pulled it out of her pants.
I took her hand and kissed it. Two of her fingers were sloppy fingers and I slowly kissed my way towards them until they were in my mouth. I licked and sucked until I could only taste my spit.
“You taste good everywhere,” I said.
Beth laughed and slowly sat herself up. She grabbed a milk container from the crate and popped it open. After three generous sips, she handed me the bottle. “You can finish the rest,” she said.
My head was tipped back when I felt her hand against my stomach. She slid her hand under my boxers as she tugged my pants down. She took my cock in one hand and grabbed my ass with the other.
“I guess I’m not the only leaky one,” she said, as she milked the pre-cum out of me and collected it in her curled fingers. As I leaned in to kiss her, she turned her face and kind of bit at my ear.
“It feels good to hold a man,” she said. “Mr. Thompson, you’re so hard.”
Her whispers sent me over the edge, and I felt the tingling at the base of my cock grow stronger. As she tugged at it, wet spots dotted around her belly button. Her tits jiggled as she jerked me and I saw that her nipples still throbbed with milk.
I knew I didn’t have much more time. This might be my last chance to get a taste of her.
I pinched and started to squeeze her nipples, and was surprised for some reason by the spray in my face. She giggled and wiped the wet spots over my eyelids, so I could open my eyes again. I directed the milky spray down towards my mouth, moaning as her motherly milk trickled to the back of my tongue.
“Fuck, I’m coming,” I said.
“Shit,” she said.
She grabbed the empty milk container from the counter and pushed my dick into the tippy-top of the bottle. The tight fit delayed the explosion just for a moment, and I screamed as it finally splattered into the bottles in waves.
When I was empty, I collapsed into her naked shoulder. She released my dick and put the milk container on the counter.
“You might not want to recycle that one,” she said.
She leaned into me, gently nudging me off her. “I’m way behind schedule,” she said. “Can I wash up?”
“There’s a bathroom…just around the corner,” I said, in between breaths.
She picked her shirt and bra and held them away from her sticky breasts. She was probably in the bathroom for 10 minutes and came out looking as pretty as can be.
“I’m heading out, Mr. Thompson,” she called from the hallway.
“OK, Beth, thank you.”
The door shut behind her and I heard the truck pull away. I sat at the counter and downed two containers of milk wondering what the fuck just happened. Eventually, I found the motivation to take a shower.
My face was still covered with the stick and smell of her. I let the hot water strike against my chest, as I jerked off thinking about her encounter. When the steam had finally made her scent disappear, I scrubbed my face and body with soap and cleaned my dick of any remnant of cum.
I didn’t get any sleep before that next Monday morning. I’m sure I was a mess when I met her at the front door. She was wearing a puffy sweatshirt, which I obviously thought was intentional. She was pleasant but her face was pink with embarrassment. She left the crate at the door and didn’t linger.
“See you next week,” she said.
I was at the counter, drinking my milk alone again when I spotted something in the crate. It was an envelope. Inside I found a thank-you card with white and black cow patches. A gift certificate fell out for $20 to the co-op store, and there was a handwritten note.
“Mr. Thompson, thanks for helping me out last week. You really saved my ass. I think I still owe you a favor? Anyway, you know where to find me.”
The note was not signed with her name but sealed with a bright pink print of her luscious lips. I took a long sip of milk and wiped off my milk mustache.
It was fresh, I thought, but just missing a drop or two of sweetness.