LACTOGENESIS XX:  THE EXAMINATION, PART TWO

     Sheila stood up and looked down at her dripping breasts.  "Look, I'm
like you now."  She began moving back up toward Chris's heaving chest. 
"You should be pretty relaxed now."
     Chris felt like the skin covering her bosom would split from the
pressure inside it.  "Yes, oh, yes," she intoned.  "Drink from me.  Taste
me..."  At that, thick streams of white liquid began welling up from
Chris's nipples, spilling down over the sides of her monumental mounds to
form growing puddles under each armpit.  Sheila fell upon Chris's breasts,
licking and sucking as if it were her last meal.  Milk ran freely down
Chris's body, off the edge of the examining table, and began pooling on
the floor.  Sheila continued drinking, but there was more than she could
consume.  All Chris wanted to do was to keep squirting, keep squirting
until there were no more fluids in her body at all.  The fact that she
couldn't use her arms or legs only intensified the feelings in other parts
of her body.  She came again solely from Sheila's manipulations of her
breasts, and this time she heard the splashes from her cunt strike the
hard floor.  Her entire world was concentrated in her brimming boobs...or
was it?  What was that new hardness between her legs?  Chris looked down
at Sheila; both her hands were accounted for.  She looked further down and
gasped aloud.  There, expertly positioned between her splayed gams, with a
firm, healthy erection poised at her gaping hole, was none other than her
trusted physician Dr. Frankenmuth, looking thoroughly unprofessional with
his pants gathered at his ankles and the reservoir tip of a condom
dangling from the tip of his cock.
     "My goodness, Christine, how you've filled out since you left us," he
growled lustily, as he slowly began pushing his way inside.  "God, Sheila,
I could've sworn those tapes you showed me were doctored, but now I know. 
Our little Christine is a true wonder."  As he penetrated her fully, his
expression changed to one of pure bliss.  "And she's as fantastic inside
as she is out."  He began pumping, using long, deliberate strokes.
     A crowd of conflicting emotions chased each other through Chris's
head.  Surprise at Frankenmuth's sudden appearance.  Panic in that now it
was two on one, and she had no chance of escape.  Renewed lust in that she
had fantasized about Frankenmuth ever since he and she accidentally
discovered her ejaculatory talents those months ago, and here he was,
inserting his penis into her.  Chris knew somewhere in the back of her
mind that this could be thought of as rape, but she was so far gone from
the combination of Sheila's talented fingers and tongue that she actually
found herself welcoming Frankenmuth's hard cock within her.  Her vagina
sucked him deeper inside, until his glans was kissing her cervix at the
bottom of each stroke.  Frankenmuth's eyes betrayed his amazement.  The
struggle to postpone ejaculation was beginning to show on his face.  It
was a losing proposition.
     "No!  Not yet!  Not so soon!" he cried, but Chris's cunt would have
none of it.  Like a separate living entity, it squeezed and milked and
sucked at this invader, determined to extract its very essence. 
Frankenmuth stumbled backward, pulling out at the same moment that the
condom was filling with his spunk.  "Damn it!  I came too soon!"  Indeed,
it couldn't have been two minutes since Frankenmuth, who had been tipped
off to Sheila's plan by Sheila herself earlier that day, made his
surreptitious entrance, surveyed the scene, and decided to join the party.
     Sheila giggled at Frankenmuth's frustration.  "Aww, poor baby.  Here,
let mama kiss it and make it better."  She extricated herself from Chris's
bosom and padded over to where Frankenmuth stood, frantically stripping
off the sodden condom and almost taking the skin of his penis off with it.
 She immediately dropped to her knees, extended her prehensile tongue, and
began swirling it up, down, and around Frankenmuth's limp, semen-soaked
organ.  Under attack from all sides, his dick had no choice but to defend
itself.  Slowly it began to rise to meet the challenge.  He began humming
a tuneless sound as his growing erection disappeared into Sheila's mouth.
     Chris struggled to get herself into a position where she could see
what was going on, but could not.  Being so abruptly abandoned was
frustrating for her, as hot as she currently was.  Her body was telling
her that there were still more orgasms available, more milk to be loosed. 
Again she began straining against her restraints.  She heard Sheila's
frantic slurping and Frankenmuth's humming, and was being slowly driven
crazy by it.  "Mmm, Sheila, he sounds delicious," she said.  "Can I share
him with you?"
     "No, you stay put.  He's all mine," Sheila said between sucks.
     Frankenmuth, however, had other plans.  Clearly he wanted a second
shot at Chris.  With Sheila still connected to his cock, he leaned over to
the table and released one of Chris's wrist restraints.  Chris quickly
used her free hand to unfasten the other three straps.  When she swung her
legs around and stood up, several small puddles of milk that had pooled on
her upper body ran down her tummy, pussy, and legs.  Frankenmuth shook his
head in disbelief at the sight.  Chris walked up behind Sheila's kneeling
form, placed herself so that her knees touched Sheila's shoulder blades,
and looked deeply into Frankenmuth's eyes, saying "Here I am.  What's your
pleasure?" without using words.  He placed a hand on each of her
shoulders, bent his head, and began to suck on Chris's nipples.  He went
from one to the other with amazing speed, so that it felt to Chris like he
was sucking both breasts at once.  Her mammaries responded with a renewed
flow of milk.  Frankenmuth would suck hard once or twice, prompting a
strong jet from her rock-hard nipple, swallow, switch breasts, and be back
in time to renew the stream just before it slowed to a trickle.
     "I don't know what's going on up there," came Sheila's muffled voice
from below, "but you've just doubled in size, darling.  Keep it up,
Chris."
     Chris began rubbing her cunt with one hand, then used the other to
replace it with one of Frankenmuth's.  "Remember that day in the
hospital?" she reminded him.  "Do it like you did it then."  He took the
hint, turned his hand over, and used his thumb to begin stroking Chris's
clit.  The angle wasn't the same as when she'd been sitting on the edge of
the hospital bed, but the effect was.  Chris's legs began trembling, and
her knees buckled.  The motion forced Sheila's body forward, causing her
to swallow Frankenmuth's cock to the hilt.  He and Chris came
simultaneously.  Sheila was hit with a double deluge -- one from above, as
Chris's come cascaded down into her hair, and the other from inside, as
Frankenmuth's second load blasted against her uvula.  Unlike with Chris,
she was unprepared for this.  She began choking as her gag reflex was
tripped.
     Frankenmuth brought Sheila to her feet and held her while she
struggled to clear his come from her throat.  "You OK, Sheila?" he asked. 
He felt her nod against his chest.  "Good, 'cause I'm still hard, and
there's one more orifice I wish to explore tonight."  He led Sheila over
to the examining table, where he lay her down and immediately mounted her.
 She responded immediately, bringing her hips up to meet his strokes.  It
wasn't long before they, incredibly, forgot Chris was even in the room.
     For a few seconds, Chris considered joining them, but decided against
it, seeing how small the table was.  This conscious decision was enough to
disconnect her libido from her thinking brain, and a rational, sexually
satiated Christine emerged.  It began to dawn on her that she was standing
in the middle of an MRI laboratory, naked and covered with bodily fluids
of several types, mostly her own, with probably a pint of her milk
scattered around the room, and two people she barely knew locked in a
carnal embrace on an examining table, completely oblivious to her
presence.
     It was suddenly too weird for her.  In that moment she knew she had
to get out of there, as quickly as possible, and not look back.  She spied
a table along one wall containing some basic medical supplies.  She
grabbed a handful of wipes and used them to towel herself off.  She ran
behind the screen and began dressing as fast as she could.  She heard
Sheila and Frankenmuth's moaning becoming more heated.  She knew they'd be
done soon, and they'd be looking for her.  She made a dash for the door
and was almost there when a flashing light caught her eye.  She noticed
that the "start" button on the MRI unit's control panel was illuminated. 
The machine was under power!  A wicked thought crossed her mind, and she
walked over to the panel.  Her hand poised over the button as she looked
through the glass at the two doctors lost in lust.
     She began to feel the effects of having been hoodwinked by these two.
 As the afterglow (they had been a terrific sexual experience) faded
completely, it began to be replaced by a sting of humiliation.  Her trip
down here hadn't been a waste of her time, but she had been brought here
under false pretenses.  She had, after all, been used as a tool to ignite
Sheila and Frankenmuth's passion for each other and then discarded while
still taken up in the heat of the moment.  These two should pay some small
price for that.  She looked down at the flashing button, and up again at
the MRI unit.  The opening in that cylinder looked awfully tight...
     She slammed her hand down on the "start" button, which illuminated
several others.  Chris found the one marked "transport" and punched it. 
To her satisfaction, the table began moving toward the cylinder.  The two
madly fucking people on it didn't even notice.  Frankenmuth and Sheila
were completely intertwined in each other, as close together as they could
get.  A very propitious thing, since they just barely cleared the opening
of the cylinder as the table disappeared into it.  It was going to be very
difficult for them to get out of there.
     Chris clenched a fist in a silent "yes!" gesture and made a beeline
for the door.  It was just swinging closed behind her when she started
hearing surprised yells coming from the lab:  "Ouch!  Hey!  What the
hell?!  Chris?  Where are you?  What'd you do?  Chris?!  This isn't funny,
move the table back out!  Chris!!"
     She had made it to the main doors to the building when the shouting
started getting frantic.  "Help, somebody!  Get us out of here!"
     She saw a maintenance man running toward her down the corridor. 
Working hard to keep a straight face, she hooked a thumb over her shoulder
in the general direction of the lab.  The man nodded and kept running. 
Chris walked slowly and purposefully out to her car.  Once inside its safe
confines, she started laughing, and didn't stop until she got home.  I'd
like to be a fly on the wall at the next hospital staff meeting, she
thought.
     She never saw Sheila Ellis or Dr. Frankenmuth again.

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?"

LACTOGENESIS XXII:  THE HALLOWEEN PARTY, PART ONE

     "Hello?"
     "Hi, Sherri.  Chris.  How's the costume coming?"
     "All done.  Will you be ready to leave in, say, fifteen minutes?"
     "I need a little help getting the last bit of makeup on.  Can you
give me a hand?"
     "No prob.  Be there in two shakes of a cow's tail."
     Chris hung up the phone and returned to the task of getting into
costume for Sherri's friend Jeremy's Halloween party-slash-orgy which was
scheduled to begin within the hour.  She had racked her brain all the
previous week, trying to decide on a costume which would fit Jeremy's
requirement that it reflect some unique aspect of her sexuality.  In both
Chris's and Sherri's cases lactation was the obvious choice, but choosing
an appropriate costume had been less obvious.  Sherri had chosen to go
with self-effacing humor and dress as a dairy cow, but Chris wanted
something more subtle.  Her inspiration had come just a couple of nights
before, as she was viewing a late-night showing of the film "A Clockwork
Orange" on cable -- specifically, a scene in which Alex and his droogs are
relaxing in a futuristic bar, drinking glasses of milk laced with
hallucinogenic drugs.  They refilled their glasses from the spouting
breasts of white plastic sculptures of nude women with exaggerated figures
and wild hair.  Perfect, Chris had thought.  The reference is a little
obscure, but that will make for a good conversation-starter.  The man at
the costume shop was a little puzzled when Chris bought practically his
entire supply of Clown White stage makeup and an outrageously voluminous
white wig, but he knew better than to ask questions, especially at
Halloween.  The only other thing she'd needed to complete the costume was
a white bikini bottom -- Chris wasn't about to go to the party
*completely* nude, just mostly so.  The act of smearing her body, and
particularly her breasts, with the thick white makeup cream had given her
a slight sexual buzz, just enough to increase her level of anticipation
for the coming events of the evening and dissipate what was left of her
fear of the unknown.  She covered herself in white makeup from head to
foot, which gave her the illusion that she was actually wearing something
when in fact her only clothing was the bikini bottom.  She had finished
adjusting the huge white wig and was putting on some overexaggerated false
eyelashes when Sherri arrived.
     "Jesus, you look like the ghost of Dolly Parton," she quipped.
     "And you look like Elsie herself," Chris retorted, laughing. 
Sherri's costume was of black and white cloth, in the pattern of a prime
Guernsey, complete with tail, ears, and six breasts which served as an
udder.  The top pair were Sherri's own, protruding from holes in the
fabric and painted to match the two fake pairs immediately below.  Sherri
was chewing a large wad of gum, obviously intended to simulate cud.
     Once the two finished complimenting each other on their choices of
costumes, Sherri helped Chris put makeup on the part of her back she
hadn't been able to reach.  She finished by dusting Chris with powder that
set the makeup so it wouldn't readily rub off.  Chris then donned an old
long coat and white sandals that she didn't mind getting messy; and they
were off, driving carefully so as not to get pulled over.  Chris didn't
want to have to explain her costume, or lack thereof, to a cop.  Sherri
didn't bother to cover herself; she got a kick out of flashing her
"udders" at passing motorists all the way out to Jeremy's place.
     "Some pad, isn't it?" Sherri asked as they pulled up to the house.
     "Estate would be more like it," Chris commented.  Indeed, Jeremy's
digs were absolutely palatial compared to Chris's humble abode.  The house
was of white stone, a contemporary design, 5000 square feet easy.  It sat
in the middle of a plot of land so large that the next door neighbors
could not be seen.  Manicured hedges and a small reflecting pool with a
fountain (a Venus figure with water flowing from her breasts, Chris noted)
complimented the cobblestone paths leading to a huge double door, which
was illuminated with a blacklight.  A suit of armor with glowing red eyes
in the visor stood guard.
     Sherri rang the doorbell, then giggled when a recording of a
bloodcurdling scream replaced the expected "ding-dong".  Suddenly the two
were bathed in blood-red light from overhead floods, and the doors opened
inward on very squeaky hinges, in classic haunted-house style.  There was
no one in the doorway.  Instead, a recording of a fairly good Bela Lugosi
imitation bade them enter.  The entrance foyer and the hallway leading
away from it were darkened, illuminated only with a few meager candles. 
Fake cobwebs brushed at them as they moved slowly down the hall.  At the
far end, a robotic skeleton was beckoning to them, pointing at another
door.  Chris could hear music and the hum of voices in conversation behind
it.
     "This must be the place," Sherri said.  "Ready?"
     Chris steeled herself.  Another step on the journey, she told
herself.  How's this for self-discovery?  I'm about to enter a room full
of strangers, clad in nothing but white makeup, and most likely have sex
with at least one of them.  A year ago, who'da thunk it?  Her id won the
battle with her superego:  she removed her coat and stood there in her
brilliant white, almost-naked glory.  Her nipples instantly responded to
the slight autumn chill in the air.  In the unsteady light of the hallway,
she looked eerily magnificent.  She draped the coat over the skeleton's
outstretched hand and said, "Let's do it."
     Sherri knocked on the door.  After a few seconds it opened to reveal
their host.  Jeremy was as Sherri had described him:  short but muscular,
chiseled good looks, and quite hirsute.  He had a Kirk Douglas-like dimple
in his chin.  It was hard to tell where his own body hair stopped and that
of his costume started.  He was dressed as a satyr.  Thick brown "fur" ran
in a stripe down his back and spread out to cover his lower torso and
legs.  He had painted his exposed skin brown.  Prosthetic horns sprouted
from his forehead, his ears were pointed Spock-style, and makeshift hooves
were on his feet.  He held a drink in one hand and a panpipe in the other.
 Chris noticed none of this, however.  Her eyes were riveted on his penis,
which hung freely down a good length of his furry thighs.  It began to
stir as Jeremy beheld his two new guests.  He had painted it brown as
well.
     He stepped back and scanned Sherri up and down.  He grinned broadly
as he said to her, "That's great.  I love it.  What a stitch."  He leaned
closer and added, "I hope you're prepared to show us why you're dressed
like that."
     Sherri smiled back.  "Pervert," she said.  She indicated Chris. 
"Jeremy, I'd like you to meet my friend Christine."
     He took Chris's hand and kissed it.  His eyes shone mischeviously as
he looked up into her face.  His erection was becoming more noticable. 
"Of course, the fair milkmaid," he said.  "I have been waiting a long time
to meet you.  Sherri tells me you're one of a kind."  Chris could think of
no response.  Jeremy gave her a much longer visual examination than he had
Sherri.  Chris felt her nipples stiffen even more under his penetrating
gaze.  Finally he said, "Let me guess.  Clockwork Orange, right?"
     Chris sent a surprised look at Sherri.  "Told you he'd know it,"
Sherri said.
     Jeremy stepped behind them and ushered them through the door.  He
touched a button on the wall which muted the music and caused the other
guests to look in his direction.  "Everyone," he announced, "this is
Sherri and Christine.  They're here to make sure that you all have your
minimum daily requirement of dairy products."  A few chuckles from those
who had gotten a good look at Sherri's costume.  Most didn't understand
his reference, so Jeremy continued, "Never mind.  I'm sure you'll find out
for yourselves later.  Everybody is here now, so let the games begin!"
     Chris leaned close to Sherri and hissed into her ear, "Oh, great. 
Why not tell the world?  I don't want these people grabbing my boobs and
trying to milk them."
     "Yes, you do, or you wouldn't have dressed like that," Sherri
whispered back.  Chris was shocked, not because of what Sherri'd said, but
because she realized that she was right.  When will I stop surprising
myself? she thought.
     Jeremy placed himself between Sherri and Chris, put each arm around a
waist, and guided them toward the bar.  Halfway there a woman in a black
leather B&D outfit sauntered up to Jeremy and without warning pinched the
head of his penis between black-nailed fingers.  He didn't flinch.
     "Well, Jeremy love, I guess we all know who *your* favorite is," she
said, and walked on.  Chris wasn't sure what she meant until she glanced
downward.  Jeremy was now sporting a tremendous erection that was brushing
the hair on his belly.  When she was finally able to look up again, she
saw Jeremy wearing an ever-so-slight grin and arching one eyebrow as if to
say, "What did you expect?"
     She glanced over to Sherri, who was also wearing an enigmatic smile,
only hers seemed to say, "He's all yours if you want him."  She stole
another look at Jeremy's impressive manhood, and suddenly found herself
wondering if the body paint covering it would come off inside her. 
Another movie cliche flashed through her mind:  Bette Davis on a stairway
saying, "Fasten your seat belts.  It's going to be a bumpy ride."

LACTOGENESIS XXIII:  THE HALLOWEEN PARTY, PART TWO

     Jeremy made no attempt to conceal his erection, which was so engorged
that it was almost purple beneath the brown body paint.  Chris was almost
embarrassed for him, but at the same time she could not deny that his
obvious arousal and the fact that she had brought it on were combining to
cause some erectile tissue on her body to become active as well.  She was
almost alarmed at how horny she suddenly was.  She consciously tried to
turn down her inner fire somewhat; after all, she had only just arrived.  
There would be plenty of time for sex later.  Right now she wanted to take
a look around.
     Her first stop was the bar, which was manned by a hired bartender.  
The woman's standard-issue uniform made her look completely out of place
in this venue.  Chris ordered a raspberry ginger ale; after all, she was
the designated driver -- and she didn't want her senses dulled by alcohol.
 Not tonight.  She looked around for Sherri and noted wryly that she had
already left the room.  Jeremy, however, was hovering nearby, unable to
leave Chris's side.  She was amused to think that she had him completely
under her control.  After pretending to ignore him for several minutes,
Chris finally took his hand and said, "Come on.  Introduce me."  They
began to mingle.
     When Chris had chosen her costume, she was afraid that the degree of
nakedness it entailed would be too bold for Jeremy's friends.  She saw now
that she had been mistaken.  Several of the women were in comparable
states of undress.  There was the inevitable Lady Godiva, but what made
her different was that her date was dressed as the horse.  She rode his
back for a good part of the evening, clad in nothing but a very long blond
wig and high heels, which she repeatedly dug into her mount's sides.  The
guy's definitely a masochist, Chris thought.
     There was a Cleopatra, complete with a large, live boa constrictor
which served as a drape across a broad, deep chest sporting two
doubly-pierced nipples.  When questioned about the snake, "Cleo" frankly
told Chris that she used it to masturbate with.  Chris spent a few minutes
trying to figure out how.
     She then met "Irina", a woman of at least 50 who was naked except for
black leather gloves, knee-high boots, and face mask.  She had a Doberman
pinscher with a studded collar on a short leash.  The woman wore three
large dabs of peanut butter on her pancake boobs and very hairy pussy.  At
one point during her conversation with Chris she sat on the floor and let
the dog lick her clean.  Chris could swear the woman had an orgasm during
this, all the while keeping up her end of the conversation.  Chris was
amazed.  Where does Jeremy find these people, she thought.
     Jeremy then introduced Chris to a fellow who was obviously a
bodybuilder.  He had come as the Incredible Hulk.  The bulge in his pants
which appeared as he stared at Chris showed that his musculature wasn't
the only thing incredible about him.  Unfortunately, about all he could
say was, "So you're a milker, huh?"  Not the most brilliant man she had
ever met, but that body...Chris felt her crotch begin to tingle as her
eyes traced his pecs, his lats, his delts, his glutes, his pubes...
     As Jeremy introduced her to more and more people, Chris began getting
used to not making eye contact with any of the male guests.  To a one,
they could not take their eyes off of Chris's body, resplendent in its
ghost-white makeup; perfectly shaped breasts with their upturned,
stiffened nipples; long, flat tummy; curvy, almost hemispherical ass; and
muscular, toned legs.  She had never received so much visual admiration at
one time before, and it excited her.  The excitement caused her already
high hormone levels to rise even further.  She could feel them working on
both body and mind, stripping away inhibitions more effectively than any
exogenous drug and kicking her milk production into high gear.  She felt
her nipples reaching maximum extension and the warmth and pressure in her
breasts that hovered just below discomfort.  She knew from experience that
her bustline had temporarily increased in size by more than an inch just
in the last few minutes.  It wouldn't be long before she would have to
grab the nearest man, jump his bones, and soak him down.
     Her prurient plans were thwarted when Jeremy decided to take Chris on
the "nickel tour" of the lower level.  The main rec room, where the bulk
of the partyers was located, was connected by branching corridors to
several smaller rooms, most of which had closed and locked doors.  Sounds
of passion emanated from behind each.  Chris smiled inwardly when she
recognized Sherri's moans coming from one.  Jeremy made a special point of
showing Chris one available bedroom which had obviously been waterproofed;
plastic covered everything.  "This one's for later," was all he would say
about it.
     A little further on they came upon a room whose sole furnishing was a
large round table with chairs.  Several people were seated there, playing
a board game.  Jeremy explained that the game was patterned after
Monopoly, except that sexual favors were traded instead of real estate.  A
new game was just beginning, and one chair was available.  Jeremy seated
Chris in it and left the room, saying something about going to look for
Sherri.  His erection was still waving proudly as he walked out.
     "Poor dear's going to get blue balls," a woman in a cat costume
immediately to Chris's left said.  "When are you going to stop teasing
him?"
     "Soon.  I'm enjoying the attention," Chris replied.
     "I'm jealous.  Usually he circulates a lot more than this.  He can't
seem to stay away from you."
     "It's probably just the costume."
     "I seriously doubt it."  A beat, then, "Since you're a newcomer, why
don't you go first?"
     Chris's token, appropriately shaped like a pair of breasts, landed on
a space which directed her to pick a card from one of the stacks and read
it aloud.  Most of the spaces were like that, she noted.  "'For the next
sixty seconds, do something sexual that you think no one else in the room
can do'," she read.  She glanced at the people around her, noting the look
of anticipation on their faces, and suddenly it dawned on her.  This has
to be a set-up, she thought.  Jeremy had, after all, announced in a
backhanded fashion upon her and Sherri's arrival that both of them were
lactating.  In retrospect, she realized that Jeremy had obviously steered
her to this room.  It was suddenly clear that the people in it had been
hand-selected by him, and that they had been awaiting her arrival.  It was
also clear that everyone at the table wanted a demonstration of Chris's
special talents.  On top of all this, her hormones were practically
screaming that she provide one.
     Far be it from me to disappoint my fans, Chris said to herself.

LACTOGENESIS XXIV:  THE HALLOWEEN PARTY, PART THREE

     Christine gave herself over to the situation.  She smiled and scooted
her chair back away from the table.  She slid down into it, spreading her
legs slightly.  With the tip of her index finger, she began to draw light
circles around each of her nipples.  The circles widened until they
circumnavigated each breast.  She then opened her hands, pressing inward
on her bosom and stroking downward toward the nipples.  Over a dozen thin
streams of milk erupted forth as a result, spraying across the width of
the table.  The men at the table groaned lustily in response; the women
squealed in delight.  She tugged her nipples into inch-long erections,
each tug producing a fresh deluge of milk.  As she milked herself, Chris
pivoted in her chair so as to make sure each and every person was hit by
the blasts.  To her mild surprise, not one tried to escape getting wet.  
On the contrary, they jostled each other for position, *trying* to catch
the streams on their bodies.  They turned to each other, licking droplets
off each others' faces and smacking their lips.
     "Sixty seconds.  Time's up," she heard someone say, but the voice
seemed distant, strangely muted by the roar of the blood in her ears.  
There was a collective moan of disappointment.  "Like hell," she
responded, and a ragged cheer went up.  Chris stood up, walked to the
nearest man, and guided his head to her still-flowing breast.  With no
prompting, he began to suckle her deeply.  The stimulation completed
Chris's transformation into an unthinking, purely sensual being.  With a
growl that rumbled deep in her chest, she took the man's shoulders and
took him to the floor.  His costume, that of a Roman gladiator, had an
easily removed codpiece which Chris tossed to one side to reveal a long,
thin cock already sporting a bright green condom.  These people had come
prepared.  Chris was running on pure instinct, adrenalin, and oxytocin
now.  She pulled her bikini bottom to one side and unceremoniously
engulfed the man's erection with her soaking wet pussy.  She began to ride
him, spurred on by the encouragements of the crowd around her, her head
tossed back, her eyes closed, her nipples still dripping milk onto the
man's chest, her voice grunting like a gorilla in heat.
     She felt a pair of hands grab her head and guide it to a second,
thicker cock, which protruded from a Starfleet uniform belonging to a man
who looked very much like "Star Trek"'s Commander Data.  Without a thought
she took it into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the head and
plunging it deep into her throat.  She felt soft lips (female?) encircle
each breast, sucking furiously, trying in vain to drain her dry.  She
stroked the backs of the women suckling her as they struggled to doff
their costumes (the cat and her companion, a mouse) without breaking
contact.  Her hands, however, were soon taken away and placed on two more
stiff pricks protruding from the pants of an "alien" (who had glued a
second, almost identically sized plastic prick above his own) and a man in
a Hannibal Lecter mask.  Chris awkwardly began jacking them off, trying to
stay in rhythm with the "gladiator"'s cock buried in her pussy.  Six
people were making love to her simultaneously, and still she wanted more.  
She could feel the best orgasm of her life building, but it seemed
distant, unwilling to burst forth under anything but the most intense
stimulation.
     She had her answer seconds later, as she felt a blunt, wet, throbbing
object probing her anus.  She had never been penetrated anally before, but
that realization never reached her conscious mind.  Upon that first touch,
she leaned forward, thrusting her ass outward, relaxing her sphincter for
the coming onslaught.  The man who entered her, "Napoleon", felt huge.  He
had slathered a condom with K-Y jelly, but his first stroke still elicited
a yelp of pain from Chris.  He began to pull out, but Chris shouted "No!"  
She relaxed a little more, feeling both cocks sliding in and out of her,
rubbing each other through the thin barrier separating rectum and vagina.  
She began rolling her hips up and back so that one penis was on a
downstroke while the other was on an upstroke.  The cat and mouse began to
nibble at her nipples, tugging at them with their teeth.  The cocks in her
hands grew harder; the one in her mouth began pulsing with the
inevitability of ejaculation.
     The men began coming.  Hundreds of millions of spermatozoa ran down
Chris's arms as she finished jacking off "Hannibal" and the "alien".  
Chris let go of "Data"'s cock just as it erupted, blasting a thick stream
of cum across her cheek to drip from one ear.  The gladiator and
"Napoleon" followed only seconds later.  Their penises seemed to swell
inside her just before exploding.  She could feel the intensity of their
spurts even through the condoms they wore, and that was enough to bring
her distant orgasm raging to the forefront.  She burst forth, spraying
cunt juice and milk everywhere as she gasped for air.  The women suckling
her fell back, overcome by the sheer volume of fluid Chris was putting
forth.  The gladiator's costume was ruined, soaked completely through.  
Red dye mixed with Chris's juices and smeared the poor man's legs.
     The intensity of Chris's orgasm drained every ounce of strength she
had.  She collapsed forward, only semi-conscious.  She felt several strong
hands guiding her to the floor, others stroking her hot skin tenderly.  
She opened her eyes to see seven faces, five male, two female, smiling
down at her.  They all looked up in response to applause that suddenly had
begun from the door.
     Chris turned her head to see Jeremy and Sherri standing in the
doorway, applauding the show they'd just witnessed.  Jeremy's erection was
finally gone.  His limp dick was devoid of the body paint, and it shone
wetly.  Sherri's costume was mostly gone; she wore only black panties and
the headdress portion.  Her huge breasts, a different color from the rest
of her skin and looking very weird without the rest of the costume,
jiggled as she applauded; the nipples had drops of milk on them.  It was
obvious what they had just been doing.
     Jeremy made a quick gesture with his head, and without a word "Data",
"Napoleon", "Hannibal", the alien, the gladiator, the cat, and the mouse
left the room.  Sherri quickly crossed to Chris's prone, semen-covered,
sweaty, white-streaked form, helped her shakingly to her feet, and
embraced her.
     "School's out, hon.  My little girl's all grown up now," Sherri said
into Chris's neck.  There was pride in her voice.  Chris, for her part,
was only slowly beginning to get her senses back.  The enormity of what
had just transpired was beginning to dawn on her.  She had transcended yet
another level of sexual awareness.  She tuned in on her ravished body; she
felt her pulse in her cunt and ass, the cramping of the muscles in her
fingers, the teeth marks in her nipples, the taste of cum on her tongue,
the fatigue in her legs, the trickle of fluids down her skin.  They were
delicious feelings, the feelings of complete release, of the complete
giving over of oneself to pleasure.  She liked it.  She would have it
again.  Maybe even still tonight.  She looked up at her host, tossed the
fake hair out of her eyes (how *had* that wig stayed on?), and extended
her hand to him.  The look on Jeremy's face was a mixture of adoration and
blind lust as he led both women out of the room and down the hallway, in
the direction of the waterproofed bedroom, leaving badly stained carpeting
behind.  His satyr's cock was beginning to stir again.

LACTOGENESIS XXV:  THE SHARING

     Jeremy led Chris and Sherri back down the long hallway to the
"waterproof" room.  Sherri left Jeremy's side to turn on lights, turn down
the bed, and close the door.  Chris did not want to break contact with
Jeremy and hung on him even as they squeezed through the doorway.  She was
still riding the wave of primal sensations that had resulted from her
having taken on, and satisfied, seven of Jeremy's party guests at once,
mere minutes before.  Her skin, showing through now in places where the
white makeup had been rubbed off, still ran with a mixture of bodily
fluids that included saliva, semen, sweat, breast milk, and perhaps even
tears.  Her white bikini bottom had disappeared, leaving an outline where
no makeup had been applied.  Her whole body felt accelerated into a new
level of activity; it was one all-encompassing erogenous zone, with every
nerve ending tuned for sensuality.  She wondered if this is what those lab
rats with electrodes implanted in their pleasure centers must feel like as
they stimulate themselves continuously by pressing a switch over and over,
forsaking even food for non-stop sexual gratification, eventually dying of
hunger and thirst without even knowing they were starving.  Jeremy's body
was her sole source of fulfillment now, and she wasn't going to let go of
it even to climb onto the bed.
     Sherri was sitting Indian-style on the bed.  Jeremy, with one smooth
motion, swept Chris off her feet and placed her gently on the bed, placing
her head in the cradle formed by Sherri's crossed legs.  He followed her
down, suspending himself a fraction of an inch above Chris's body,
deliberately not touching her but close enough so they could feel each
other's heat.  He used his lips and tongue to tease an earlobe, working
slowly downward and over to Chris's panting mouth, which he covered with
his own.  She sucked his tongue hungrily into her mouth, entwining it with
her own, mashing her lips hard against his.  Her breath sounded loudly
from her nostrils as Sherri caressed their heads and necks, cooing softly.
 Jeremy broke off the kiss and continued down Chris's neck and collarbone,
planting kisses as he went.  He then pursed his lips and touched one
nipple oh so lightly, barely enough to register in Chris's brain.  The
next touch, coming only milliseconds later, was incrementally harder, as
was the next, until Jeremy had an entire mouthful of Chris's tit and was
sucking as if he would pull it right off her ribcage.  Chris started
making a keening noise as the pleasure and pain of this contact combined
in a new sensation.  Jeremy suddenly released the breast, which bounced
back to its normal position and immediately unleashed a fountain of milk
skyward, catching Jeremy in the chest.  Sherri oohed and aahed at the
spectacle, and immediately grabbed Chris's breasts, milking them expertly,
rolling the nipples between her fingers and leaning forward to catch the
multiple streams in her wide-open mouth.  Her pendulous breasts brushed
Chris's lips as she did so, and Chris latched on to the distended nipple
blindly, like a newborn puppy.  She felt Sherri's hot, sweet milk cascade
into her mouth and down her throat, filling her with new energy.
    Jeremy had now positioned himself between Chris's legs, propped up on
his muscular arms.  The coarse "fur" of his satyr costume provided a sharp
contrast to the smooth nakedness of Chris's mound.  She hissed through
clenched teeth, Sherri's pulsing, shooting nipple between them, as he
rubbed his aching cock, back to full erection, against the inside of her
thighs, stopping its upward motion just short of dividing her labia.  He
hovered briefly at the gates of heaven, then plunged forward, entering her
effortlessly.  She immediately contracted on him, almost stopping him in
mid-stroke with the intensity of the pressure she applied.  He groaned
loudly in response.  His cock felt as if in the grip of an iron fist
coated with hot honey.  He pumped slowly, almost afraid that she would
push him out of her on the out-stroke -- she was that tight.  He reached
behind him and grabbed Chris's legs, placing one on each shoulder.  She
responded by lifting her ass off the bed and pulling him even farther into
her.  He felt his balls slapping against the crack of her ass as he moved.
 Sherri leaned further forward, abandoning Chris's breasts for her cunt.  
She massaged Chris's clit and touched Jeremy's cock when it appeared from
the recesses of Chris's womb on each stroke.  Chris's pussy lips enfolded
Sherri's finger just as her other lips encircled Sherri's nipple.  Sherri
bent her finger slightly so that her fingernail just barely ran across
Chris's clit.  At that, Chris let go of Sherri's nipple, screamed out her
pleasure, and came in a gush that sprayed out around the entire
circumference of Jeremy's cock.  Chris's back arched as her orgasm
continued, her pussy sucking wetly at Jeremy's pounding prick, liquid
pulsing out around him at each contraction.  One orgasm flowed seamlessly
into the next as Jeremy's hips accelerated, their motion sending pussy
juice flying in all directions.  He felt his own cum rising, so he pulled
out of Chris and fell backwards at the foot of the bed, his pulsating
erection pointed skyward.  Chris and Sherri fell upon it together, licking
and sucking as if on a shared candy cane.  Their tongues met and swirled
together as they ran up and down the length of Jeremy's rod.  Periodically
one or the other of them would raise up just enough to spray down their
prize with milk, like topping on a sundae.  They finished Jeremy off by
alternating deep throat sucks, coordinating their plunges onto him like
railroad workers driving a spike.  He exploded with a cry like that of a
wild animal, sending a geyser of spunk upward to coat the lips of both
women.
     Sherri snarled something about not letting him get away so soon.  She
grabbed Jeremy's penis at the base and squeezed, trapping the blood and
not letting his erection deflate.  She mounted him deftly, heedless of his
cries to take it easy, and began grinding her hips back and forth.  Chris
moved up on her knees and straddled Jeremy's head, lowering her
still-dripping pussy onto his face.  She and Sherri reached for their
breasts simultaneously and began spraying each other with milk.  Seeming
gallons of white nectar sailed through the air in well-timed bursts, to
end as a myriad of pearly droplets along the faces, necks, and bodies of
the two women.  Chris could feel Jeremy's tongue working wonders on her
clit, and knew she was close to coming again.  She studied Sherri's face,
knowing from their times together when she was also close.  Seeing Sherri
heading inexorably toward orgasm was enough to trigger her own, and they
came together, their cries merging into a sound the likes of which the
planet had never experienced.
     Poor Jeremy chose that moment to try to inhale, only to be inundated
by another tidal wave from Chris's cunt.  He began coughing
uncontrollably.  Chris and Sherri immediately jumped off of him and rolled
him on his side so that he could more easily clear his throat.  His ragged
coughs soon turned into spasms of laughter as he choked out, "What a way
to die!"  The two women joined him, and soon all three were giggling
helplessly.
     "You want to drown?  There's more than one way, you know," Sherri
said.  She rolled Jeremy back over on his back and began milking herself
into his mouth.  Chris joined her, and soon it was all Jeremy could do to
keep swallowing fast enough to keep up with the downpour of milk.  He
began making unintelligible sounds as he drank, and his penis rose to full
staff once again.  Clearly he was finally living a lifelong fantasy.  
Suddenly he reached out, took one breast of each woman, and shoved both
nipples into his mouth, sucking on both Chris and Sherri simultaneously.  
They felt their nipples rub together in Jeremy's mouth, and felt the jets
of their milk intermingle.  The feeling was indescribable, and so erotic
that both women's hands went to their pussies.  They masturbated urgently,
coming again within moments.  Jeremy erupted once more as well, without
any manual manipulation whatsoever.  Even with their sexual fires finally
extinguished by all the liquids they'd secreted, Jeremy continued to
suckle, first on Sherri and then on Chris, for several minutes, until they
were finally emptied.
     For a short while it looked as if Jeremy had gone to sleep.  Finally
he sat up slowly, groaned slightly, wiped his mouth, and belched loudly.  
Chris giggled; Sherri shook her finger at him in mock admonition.  Jeremy
merely patted his slightly distended stomach and grinned like a Cheshire
cat.
     Chris happened to glance at an ornate clock on one wall; it read
3:30. Had she really been at this party for almost seven hours?  She had
never undertaken such sustained sexual activity before, and it was finally
beginning to take its toll.  She suddenly realized how sore her asshole
was, how thirsty and drained she felt.  She looked at her companions and
suddenly realized how comical they all looked in the remnants of their
Halloween costumes.  They laughed all through the shower they took
together and fell asleep in a heap on the huge circular bed in the master
bedroom, oblivious to the party which continued on around them until well
past dawn.


LACTOGENESIS XXVI:  THE PILLOW TALK

        "Could you move a little, honey?  My arm's falling asleep."
        "Sorry, babe.  That better?"
        "Much.  Thanks.  Mmmm, I'd forgotten how nice snuggling can be
after a no-holds-barred session of lovemaking."
        "The post-coital conversation.  Definitely a must.  Sure beats
just rolling over and going to sleep."
        "You don't do that, do you?"
        "How could I with somebody like you next to me?"
        "I bet you say that to all the girls."
        "You probably won't believe this, but there haven't been all that
many.  Certainly none as unique as you."
        "Jeremy, I want you to be honest with me."
        "Uh oh, I don't like the sound of that."
        "Don't worry.  I promise I won't kick you out of bed, regardless
of what your answer might be."
        "Fair enough.  Ask away."
        "Would we be doing this if I weren't lactating?"
        "To be honest, probably not.  Sherri would probably never have
mentioned you to me if you weren't, and I therefore never would have met
you.  Even if she had mentioned you, I probably wouldn't have been
intrigued enough to have invited you to the party."
        "I wanted you to be honest, but not brutally so."
        "Sorry."
        "'S okay.  I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.  Or should
I say, gift tits?  You're right, I would never have met you if it weren't
for these 'talents' of mine.  I should try to find the driver of the car
that hit me so I can thank him."
        "Come on, Chris, you could have any man in the world, the way you
look, the things you can do, how sweet a person you are.  There's nothing
special about me."
        "Oh, yes, there is.  After The Accident, after I came to accept my
new body and new sexuality, I vainly assumed the male world would beat a
path to my door.  Truth was, the men I met were turned off by the fact
that I had milk.  Made me seem too matronly, I guess.  Hey, don't laugh!  
Anyhow, you're different.  I can't get over how much you get into it.  
You're a breath of fresh air, you are.  And not only are you the best lay
I've had in recent memory, you're actually a lot of fun out of bed, too.  
I've missed that.  A lot."
        "Stop!  You're going to give me a swelled head."
        "I'd rather something else be swollen at the moment."
        "You'll get your chance.  You know I can't get enough of you."
        "I'm surprised the milk bank hasn't called, wondering why my
donations have dropped off so drastically."
        "I can't help it.  Nectar of the gods, and all that.  It's like a
drug to me.  I never feel so good, so relaxed, as when I'm drinking from
you.  Say, all this talk is making me thirsty again..."
        "Mmmm.  Ohhhh, your mouth feels so good on me.  I just want to
squirt forever when you do that."
        "I haven't drained you dry, have I?"
        "Oh, no.  There's plenty more in there.  Just keep that up.  Ooh,
yeah, just like that.  I can feel the letdown starting."
        "What's that like?"
        "It's about the most wonderful feeling in the world, next to
coming.  I get all tingly inside, like tiny pins and needles, and the
warmth...but there's more, too.  It feels so peaceful, so relaxing,
so...what's the word I'm looking for?  Nurturing?  I don't know.  I never
feel such tenderness toward you as when you're nursing from me.  I can't
quite explain it -- maybe it's my maternal instincts kicking in."
        "Just as long as you don't make me wear a diaper and talk baby
talk."
        "Don't get kinky."
        "You don't think wet-nursing a grown man is kinky?"
        "No, somehow I really don't.  This feels infinitely right to me."
        "Me, too.  God, you're so beautiful.  I'm so lucky to be able to
experience you on so many sensual levels.  Not only do I enjoy you with
sight, sound, touch, and smell, but with taste, too.  Your milk is so
sweet and warm..."
        "And here it comes."
        "Mmmmm, God, so good..."
        "Drink of me, Jeremy.  Drink deep.  It's all for you.  I'm your
milkmaid.  As much as you want.  There'll always be more."
        "Mmmm.  Ohh.  I could die right now."
        "Shhh, sweetheart, just drink.  That's it.  Nobody does that like
you.  It feels so good..."
        <<Jeremy suckles for several minutes, Chris quietly stroking his
hair>>
        "Tell me, Jeremy.  If a lactating lady is all you crave, why
didn't you stay with Sherri?"
        "Your milk tastes better."
        "I'm serious."
        "You must be -- you just dried up on me."
        "Am I just a dairy cow to you?"
        "That's a hell of a question, and one I hope I'll ever be asked
again as long as I live."
        "Are you going to answer it?"
        "Chris, honey, what do I have to do to convince you that you are a
waking dream to me?  I can't get over how lucky I am to be here with you.  
Believe me, I don't take our time together lightly, and I will do my
damndest to keep you with me.  You are so special, so unique, not only
physically but in every other way as well.  I'm not just saying this in
the heat of passion, although the way you look right now, with your
perfect body glistening like...whew!  But believe me, Christine, at this
point in my life, you are everything I could ever want.  What else do I
have to say?"
        "I'm sorry.  'Once bitten, twice shy', you know."
        "So you've told me.  I hope I never meet this Carl guy.  I'll only
end up cutting my knuckles on his teeth."
        "You haven't answered my original question.  Why didn't you stay
with Sherri?"
        "I'll admit that I originally went after her because of her body
and because she was pretty blatant about the fact that she was lactating.  
And she was great, a lot of fun.  She's just so...brash.  And loud.  I
could tell early on that she only liked me because she'd never had anybody
with as much body hair as me.  I was a new toy.  We were good in bed
together, but that was all.  That's not all I want from a relationship, or
haven't you guessed by now?"
        "Okay, okay.  I'm sorry if I've turned this into 'True
Confessions'.  Why don't you just kiss me."
        "Where?"
        "Everywhere."
        "Okay, why don't I start...here?"
        "You know, I don't believe anyone has ever kissed my big toe
before.  I like that."
        "How about...here?"
        "The inside of my knee?  Yes, but not quite like that.  It
tickles."
        "Does this tickle?"
        "Now that you mention it, you could use a shave, oh hirsute one."
        "Speaking of which, have I ever told you how much I love the fact
that you shave down there?"
        "Don't tell me.  Show me."
        "You're so smooth.  I can feel everything.  I can taste..."
        "Ssssss!  Easy, darling.  I feel especially sensitive tonight."
        "You taste especially wonderful."
        "Oh, God, is that your tongue?  How do you *do* that?  Ohhhhh,
oooh, you're making me so wet!  Ah, ah, ah, yes, yes, ohhhhh yeahhh.  Oh,
my God...how many fingers do you have in there?  Feels like your whole
hand...no, don't stop, it feels fantastic...like you have two
tongues...oh, oh, ohhhh, mmmmm, God, I feel like I'm going to come
already...lick harder...harder...yes, yes, like that!  Ohh!  Ohhh!  
OhhhhhaaaaaaAAAAAAHHHHH!  AAAAAAIIIIEEEEEAAAHHHH!  Oh, OH, OH!  God, stop,
stop!  I can't take it, it's too much, ooh, mmmm, mmmmmm, oooohh.  Oh,
man.  Where did you learn to eat pussy like that?"
        "I took a course in college.  Where did you learn to come like
that? I feel like I should wear scuba gear when I go down on you."
        "Does it bother you?"
        "Are you kidding?  Next to your milk, this is like taking a bath
in the finest ambrosia."
        "You've only primed the pump.  Get on up here, you.  I want you
inside of me."
        "You have only but to wiggle that adorable butt of yours.  Oh. My.
God.  You feel like paradise itself."
        "Oh, lord, you feel absolutely huge!  I *love* it!"
        "Move your ass.  I love it when you move your ass around."
        "I want to take all of you.  Go deep.  Like that.  Ohh, yes."
        "You are so hot.  And tight."
        "Suck my tits, Jeremy.  Suck them!"
        "You're like a human flood, gushing, squirting...God, it's so
unreal.  So *primal*!"
        "Our juices, our life's blood, mixing, mingling..."
        "Covering me with your essence, giving yourself over..."
        "Yes.  Split me in half.  Bury yourself in me.  Become me..."
        "Your milk.  The water of life itself..."
        "Your cum.  The stuff of life as well...give it to me..."
        "We exchange life when we fuck..."
        "Fuck.  Oh, yes, fuck.  Fuck me!"
        "Oh, Chris...oh, baby..."
        "I want to melt into you.  My milk, my cum, I'm becoming liquid,
melting into you...oh, faster, baby, make me melt..."
        "Uunnh...unnhhhh..."
        "Don't hold back.  I want it!  Oh, God, I'm coming...!"
        "Aaah!  Aaah!  Ohh!  Ohhohoho, yessss!!"
        "Now!  Now!  Yes!  Oh my gooooohhhhhAAAAHHHHHH!"
        <<<They collapse together in a lake of milk, pussy juice, and cum
-- a long period while they catch their breath>>>
        "Oh, boy, I am soaked!"
        "MMMmmm, Jeremy, that was faaan-tastic."
        "You really bring out the best in me.  You are beyond belief."
        "Care to go for three?"
        "By all means.  Just give me a couple of minutes.  You know, I
could never do that before.  That should tell you something about how
special you are."
        "Why don't we try the shower this time?"
        "Capital suggestion.  Then let's change these sheets.  You really
should consider Scotchgarding them.  These dropcloths can get slippery."
        "Jeremy?"
        "Yes, hon?"
        "I don't want this to end."
        "I don't see any reason why it should."
        "You mean that?"
        "With all my heart.  I know it's only been a couple of weeks,
but...I think there's a real chance that we could become soulmates as well
as bedmates."
        "I'd like to think so, too, but...let's not rush anything, okay?"
        "Okay.  Sorry, I'm still caught up in the afterglow."
        "It just might take me a little while, that's all."
        "I understand.  I think I'm going to enjoy wooing you."
        "Wooing.  That's a word I haven't heard in a long time.  Sounds
nice."
        "Come on, kiddo.  I'll scrub your back.  By the way, how big is
your water heater?"


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."


LACTOGENESIS XXIX:  THE FIRST CLIENT, PART TWO

        When Jeremy rang the doorbell, the very chimes of Big Ben sounded
deep within the gigantic abode that housed Bill and Eleanor Overstreet,
his and Chris's first client.   One of the double doors creaked open to
reveal a severe looking but not altogether unattractive woman in her early
thirties -- Eleanor, Chris figured.  She was dressed smartly but casually
in a cerise silk blouse and tight white slacks -- tight enough to reveal
the remnants of a tummy which had held a baby not two months before.  Her
dark blonde hair was pulled back so tightly that her skin was pulled taut
across her cheekbones, and she wore too much makeup.  She wore a
conspicuously gaudy pearl-and-diamond necklace, and sported a wedding ring
that had to be five carats.
        She fixed Jeremy with a displeased scowl.  "You're a half hour
late," she scolded.  "Poor little Thad is practically starving."  Indeed,
in the recesses of the hallways behind her, the yowlings of a hungry baby
were barely audible.
        "A thousand pardons.  We were...unavoidably delayed," he replied,
with a knowing look in Chris's direction.  For her part, Chris's cunt was
still moist from the aftermath of the quickie she and Jeremy had shared
only a few minutes before.  She hoped the clouds of Obsession she had
sprayed over herself were sufficient to mask the smell of sex.
        Eleanor turned her laser-like glance to Chris.  For a few moments,
Chris felt vaguely like a slave girl on the auction block, being subjected
to the probing stares of prospective buyers.  She felt Eleanor's eyes
scanning her up and down, stopping, of course, at Chris's bustline.  Chris
tried in vain to suppress the erection of her nipples as she realized
where Eleanor's eyes had rested.  Dammit, she thought.  If she tells me to
turn around, I'm out of here.  Oh, well, caveat emptor, I guess.
        Without taking her eyes off Chris's tits, Eleanor said, "Well, she
certainly looks healthy and...qualified."  Not even a hello, Chris
thought.  Well fuck you too.  She extended her hand.  "My name is
Christine, Mrs. Overstreet.  I'm happy to meet you."  Eleanor's response
was to shift her gaze to meet Chris's eyes.  She did not take her hand.
        Jeremy interposed quickly, handing Eleanor a folder.  "Speaking of
healthy, here are the medical records you requested.  Flying colors all
around.  A nutritional analysis of the sample is also in there.  You
couldn't ask for better."
        What the hell? Chris wondered.  Medical records?  Mine, of course.
 How did he...?  Jeremy must have more connections than he lets on.  And
what sample?  Did he milk me while I was asleep or something?  Chris felt
slightly creepy at these new developments, but a slight buzzing in her
pussy told her she could still have fun here.  Onward into the breach,
dear friends...
        Without a word, Eleanor led them deep into the huge house to a
large family room, done completely in white.  The increased volume of the
baby's cries indicated he was in an adjoining room.  Rising from an
overstuffed chair to meet them was a very tall, very thin, mustachioed,
slightly balding man with a big smile, huge teeth, and graying temples.  
"Jeremy, how the hell are you?" he boomed, pumping Jeremy's hand
enthusiastically.  "Thanks for arranging this.  I'm sure both Eleanor and
Thad will appreciate it a lot."  He turned to Chris.  Unlike his wife,
Bill Overstreet's attitude was warm and friendly.  He took Chris's hand to
kiss it.  "Chris.  Hi.  Jeremy's told us all about you.  We're so glad
you've decided to help us out."  He bent to kiss her hand but stopped
short when he felt his wife's icy gaze on him.
        "Shall we get on with it?" Eleanor asked tersely.  "Did Jeremy
tell you about our conditions?"  Chris just nodded.  "Good.  Are you able
to feed the baby now?"  Another nod.  "Excellent.  I'll be right back with
him."  She turned on her heel and marched into the nursery.
        After a few seconds of silence, Bill said softly, "I apologize for
Eleanor.  Even though she really wants to stop nursing, I think she's
going to miss it more than she realizes.  I think she's a little engorged
right now, and it's made her a little grouchy.  She's really a very sweet
lady, and a hell of a mother."  He seemed about to say more, but just then
Eleanor returned, carrying little Thad.
        Chris rose to look inside the little bundle in Eleanor's arms, and
instantly fell in love.  Thad was seven weeks old.  He had a perfectly
round face, chubby cheeks, clear blue eyes presently swimming in tears of
hunger, and a full head of dark hair.  He also had a loud clear voice,
which he was using to express his displeasure at being made to wait to
have dinner.  Chris found herself unconsciously reaching to take him.  
Eleanor reluctantly let her.  As the baby settled into Chris's arms, she
felt a sudden rush of tenderness toward the child.  She was momentarily
surprised at her emotionality until she remembered reading that the
hormones that regulate lactation also act to encourage feelings of
nurturing.  She also felt another kind of rush as her breasts suddenly
swelled with a burst of milk production.  It was almost as if they were
independently responding to the purpose for which they evolved, feeding a
baby.  It was all Chris could do to suppress a letdown reflex that would
have brought the house down.
        She looked down at the baby in her arms.  Well, little fellow,
this is the moment of truth.  Are you gonna buy me a new car or not?  Thad
took a few seconds to focus on the strange face above him, but when he
did, he smiled a big toothless smile, cooed softly, and tried to snuggle
against Chris's warm bosom.
        Eleanor's demeanor changed in that instant.  She smiled almost
sadly, rested a hand on Chris's shoulder, and said, "This is going to
work.  I'm so glad."  She then guided Chris to sit with Thad in a
high-backed chair with a small footstool in front of it.  This was clearly
the place where she had been feeding Thad, and she was clearly unhappy to
be giving it up to Chris.  She looked forlornly at Bill, whose loving look
seemed to be saying, It's okay honey, this will be over soon, and you'll
be back at your bridge club in no time.
        Chris looked helplessly at Jeremy, then Eleanor.  "I...I don't
know how to do this..." she stammered, embarrassed.
        "Jeremy told us," Bill said soothingly.  "Don't be upset.  We
wouldn't want anything to interfere with your...comfort.  Eleanor will
show you what you need to do."  He fell silent, his hands folded in his
lap.  It was soon clear that both he and Jeremy intended to stay and
watch.
        Chris suddenly realized that she hadn't dressed properly for this;
her top did not button down the front.  She would have to pull the whole
thing off over her head, which would leave her naked from the waist up.  
Eleanor understood this as well, and took Thad back while Chris removed
her top.  As her incredible breasts bounced into view, she heard a quick
intake of breath from Bill's direction.  She glanced at him and was almost
disappointed to see a lack of reaction on his face.  No wait, his nostrils
are definitely flaring, and he does seem to be fidgeting a bit...
        Eleanor was also trying to remain cool, but it was clear that she
was impressed with Chris's outstanding assets.  Under her breath she
muttered, "And I was worried about ruining my figure."
        Chris heard her.  She said, "It's not too late to change your
mind.  Breastfeeding is a great way to get back in shape after having a
baby, and all that stuff about your breasts shriveling away is a myth."  
She looked at Jeremy and was surprised to see him staring murderously at
her.
        He relaxed visibly when Bill said, "No, we've decided.  Eleanor
would have to spend too much time close to home.  That's just not
compatible with our lifestyle."
        So why have the kid in the first place, Chris thought, but stayed
silent.  Eleanor had removed the baby's outer wrap and placed him back in
her arms.  The feel of his smooth warm skin against hers renewed those
nurturing feelings, and she felt her nipples become distended with warm
milk.  A white droplet appeared at the tip of each.
        Eleanor showed Chris how to position the baby so that he could get
a good shot at her nipple.  As she moved it close, Thad seemed to smell
the milk, for he rooted in the direction of Chris's breast, found it, and
latched on with a vengeance.
        Chris yelped in pain and surprise at such ferocity from such a
little guy.  Eleanor immediately stepped forward.  "He doesn't have enough
of your nipple in his mouth," she said.  "He needs to be able to get part
of the areola in as well so that the flow can go unimpeded.  Here, let me
help you."  She deftly inserted her finger in the corner of the baby's
mouth, breaking the suction.  As she removed her finger, Chris could swear
she felt it briefly caress her swollen nipple, sending an electric shock
through her tingling breast.
        "Let's try again," Eleanor said.
        Chris felt the pressure of the milk building behind her areolae
and quickly said, "Could I have a towel, first?"  Bill instantly produced
one from the bar which Eleanor draped across Chris's lap.
        Chris was convinced that her nipple was far too big and long for
little Thad to take the whole thing in his mouth, but on the second try,
he did just that, shoving it far back into his tiny throat.  Chris's eyes
went wide as the baby began to suckle.  She was totally unprepared for the
sucking power that little body contained.  It was even harder than
Jeremy's in his most passionate moments.  A flood of pleasure/pain coursed
over her, and she literally gasped.  Eleanor only smiled knowingly.
        Chris's body responded with alacrity to this onslaught.  She felt
cunt juice begin to trickle into the maxi-pad she was wearing while her
letdown reflex exploded in full force.  A jet of milk sprayed from her
open breast, past the towel, and across the carpeting.  Bill and Jeremy
both almost jumped out of their chairs.  "Whoa!" Bill yelled.  Eleanor
immediately picked up the towel and draped it over Chris's spouting boob.  
Thad, incredibly, was equal to the task, gurgling and swallowing rapidly,
happily keeping up with the torrent of good milk Chris was providing.
        Chris was overwhelmed by the intensity of this experience.  Her
moment of guilt at experiencing sexual arousal from the suckling of a baby
vanished quickly.  This seemed the most natural thing in the world; why
shouldn't it be pleasurable?  Babies would have starved to death if God
hadn't made nursing feel good.  She remembered reading Masters and
Johnson, where they'd documented that some women achieved orgasm while
breastfeeding.
        She knew in that second that she was going to join that elite
group.  Her breathing began coming faster; she felt the maxi-pad swelling,
trying in vain to contain the coming flood.  Her juices were pushing past
it, seeping around the edges of her panties, dampening her slacks.  She
looked up with confusion and lust, and in that moment her eyes locked with
Bill's.  She fixed on them, seeing his excitement, almost hearing him
telepathically urging her on to orgasm.  He and Jeremy both had visible
erections.  She knew she was going to come soon.
        Come on, come on, come on, come on, Bill's eyes told her.
        With a whimper, Chris shut her eyes tight and came like a freight
train.  Forcing herself to refrain from screaming and thrashing about with
the baby in her lap only served to intensify the orgasm.  She snorted
through wide-open nostrils, panting furiously, riding it out, while Thad
kept suckling, totally oblivious to his nursemaid's plight.  A dark stain
spread outward across Chris's lap, around, and down into the chair.  The
realization that she must be making a hell of a mess was sufficient to
snap her out of it, and she recovered quickly.
        "Oh, my God, I'm sorry," she blurted out.  "I had no idea that
would happen."
        "That's quite all right.  I'm sure it happens all the time," Bill
reassured her.  "If it makes you feel any better, it happened to me, too."
 Indeed, there was a wet spot on his pants as well.
        "If that had happened to me, I never would have decided to quit,"
Eleanor said.
        "Are you sure it didn't, honey?" Bill asked.
        "What do you mean?"
        "Well, look at yourself."
        Eleanor glanced down at herself.  Sure enough, the entire front of
her blouse was soaked through.  Watching Chris's arousal had triggered her
own letdown reflex, and it had been sufficiently strong to soak right
through her clothing.
        "Oh, shit!" she cried, in most unladylike fashion.  "This blouse
is ruined!  Oh!"  She dabbed at it with the towel before realizing it was
also soaking wet.  She threw it on the floor in disgust.  She plucked at
her dripping wet front and said frantically, "You're hired.  Please finish
feeding Thad while I go change.  Bill will finish up with the particulars
while I'm gone, won't you, darling?"  Without waiting for an answer, she
hurried off down the hallway.
        Bill smiled his toothy smile.  "Sweetheart," he said to Chris.  
"If you promise to do this more than just this one time, I'll double
whatever Eleanor has decided to pay you."
        Chris looked at Jeremy, then down at the baby.  He had detached
himself from her breast, so she placed him at the other one, and
immediately felt him latch on and begin draining her again.  As she felt
another orgasm beginning, she said huskily, "Mr. Overstreet, I shall
consider it."