“You didn’t bring Anna?” Jill asked, stepping aside to let Rose in.
“No,” Rose sighed, dropping her bag by the door “she’s colic-y, so I left her with Marko.”
“Hi Rose,” Michael said, looking up from his book as the two women walked through to the living room.
“Hi, Michael,” Rose replied, sitting at the kitchen table with a sigh. “Everything good?” she asked.
“Everything except this book,” Michael chuckled.
“What is it?” Rose asked. “Oh, water for me, thanks,” she said, turning to Jill who was making coffee.
Michael held up his book and Rose screwed up her face.
“God, you should’ve asked me first, I read that last year, it’s fucking awful.” She laughed. “Jesus shitbags it feels good to curse again,” she grinned.
“You’ve been refraining?” Michael asked, cocking a quizzical eyebrow.
“Not round the baby,” she said in a whiny voice, “Marko’s rules, sorry, I shouldn’t bitch, he’s probably right, although I dare say calling her the baby is likely to fuck up her development a lot more than a varied and colourful vocabulary ever will. Holy crap it feels good to converse with an adult I don’t hate.”
“You hate him?” Jill asked, sitting beside her friend at the table.
“Right now? Yes, I want to see him hung, drawn and quartered,” Rose replied.
“Hanged,” Michael corrected from his place on the couch.
“Michael!” Jill snapped.
“People are hanged, Michael,” Rose smirked, toying the tip of her tongue against her left canine, “animals are hung.”
The pair chuckled and Jill rolled her eyes.
“Oh come on Jilly,” Rose sighed, “can’t I bitch and have a bit of fun. I’m not being serious.”
“So how are things really than?” Jill asked.
“I have a four-month-old baby,” Rose replied, “how d’you think things are?”
“Tell me,” Jill said impatiently.
Rose looked sideways at Michael and then gave Jill a definite look.
“Oh, right,” Jill said, catching her drift. “Michael, haven’t you got something to be getting on with in your study or outside or something?”
“Yeah, maybe later,” Michael replied, not looking up from his book.
“She means we’re going to talk about the horror of childbirth and what a wreck it’s made of my body,” Rose said loudly.
“Lovely seeing you again, Rose,” Michael said as he hurried past on his way upstairs.
He slouched on the armchair in his study and continued to read. Below he could hear his wife and her best friend continue to talk, just about. He had no desire to listen to the details of their conversation though, so he reached over and switched on his stereo, relaxing as classical music came on. He didn’t even particularly like it, but it was enough to mask the conversation downstairs.
After half an hour he lifted his coffee cup to his lips and winced as the cold liquid assaulted his sense. He got up and headed back downstairs, carefully. In the kitchen, Jill was leaning out the back door talking to one of their neighbours and Rose sat at the table flipping through a magazine.
“Can I get you anything?” Michael asked.
“I’m fine, thanks,” she replied, then, glancing quickly across at Jill she took the cup of cold coffee from his hand and tipped it back, draining half of it.
“Holy fuck that’s good,” she groaned, “not a word to anyone though,” she said severely.
Michael chuckled quietly while he refilled his cup and headed back up to his study.
A while later he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. His bedroom door opened and closed and then Jill pushed open the door to his study.
“The Barkers want me to have a quick look at their hydrangeas,” she said, “Rose’s pumping milk in our bedroom. OK?”
“No problem,” he nodded, and sipped his coffee.
Ten minutes later he could hear his wife out in the garden talking to their neighbours, and then the odd soft whirring noise from his bedroom stopped and was replaced by Rose’s curses.
Michael got to his feet and walked quietly to the door of his study, wondering what the etiquette was when dealing with new mothers.
On esat escort the landing he crept closer to his bedroom door, listening to the constant stream of muttered curses and profanity issuing from Rose’s mouth.
“Fucking stupid thing,” she grunted to the sound of plastic pieces tapping together, “I’m going to fucking kill him, good for nothing dick bag.”
The floorboard under Michael’s feet creaked and the door swung slowly open to reveal Rose sitting on the edge of his bed, her t-shirt lifted and the cups of her bra twisted down and out the way as she fumbled with her pump.
She looked up and stared back.
“Shit, sorry,” Michael muttered, “I just, I wanted to see if I – if you, needed help.”
“By all means,” Rose said, exasperated, holding out the piece of the pump.
Michael walked it, reaching out for the pieces, his eyes instinctively drawn to Rose’s swollen breasts.
“Sorry, I’ll – uh, I’ll,” Michael turned away and inspected the pieces.
“Oh it’s fine,” Rose laughed, realising why he was blushing, “I’ve been pawed and prodded and probed by so many people over the last year, I’ve lost count.”
Michael, too, fumbled with the pieces.
“Frankly the idea of attention that isn’t about the baby or how fucked my body is, is kind of flattering.”
“You’re body’s not fucked,” Michael replied, struggling with the pump.
“This is though,” he said at last, “it looks like something’s snapped off here, see?” He bent down and pointed at the jagged point of a piece of snapped plastic.
“Shit,” Rose sighed, “shit balls and fuck pops.”
“Do you have a spare” Michael asked.
“At home, yeah, it’s just fucking uncomfortable,” she groaned, “and they leak all the time.”
Michael looked down at her breasts, a droplet of milk hanging from each nipple, and each nipple swollen and erect. In his jeans, his cock began to copy them.
“Can’t you, I don’t know, milk them?” he shrugged.
Rose turned her attention away from her breasts and looked up at him incredulously.
“I thought you were meant to be clever or something,” she said.
“Well… couldn’t you?” he asked.
Rose put her hands around her breasts and squeezed them, sliding her fingers towards her nipples, until she had each pinched lightly between a thumb and forefinger. She winced and the drops hanging on each nipple dripped on to her leggings.
“Fuck!” she cried, “that’s really not going to work, they’re too sensitive to squeeze like that.”
Michael chewed his top lip and looked down past Rose’s anguished face to her breasts.
Outside he could still hear Jill talking to the neighbours, they could talk for days if you let them.
“I – ” he began. “Nah, that’s-“
“What?” Rose asked.
“No, it’s insane,” he said, shaking his head.
“Michael, right now I’ll take any suggestion you’ve got,” she snapped, “don’t fuck with the angry mom.”
“Fine, I was going to say I could… help,” he shrugged non-committally.
“You mean?” Rose asked, her breasts still in her hands, she moved almost imperceptibly as if to offer them to him.
“Um, yeah?” Michael replied, looking away towards the door and praying that Rose wouldn’t notice the growing bulge in his jeans.
“You’d do that?” she asked.
“If it’d help,” he said quietly.
“OK,” she nodded, her tongue toying on her canine again.
Michael sunk slowly to his knees and moved forward as Rose parted her legs to accommodate him. He looked at her breasts, still held in her hands, each dark nipple adorned once again with a creamy droplet of milk. Looking up he met her gaze, anxious but impatient, and without looking away he lowered his mouth.
“This one first?” he asked.
“Please,” Rose nodded, and gasped as his tongue dragged over her nipple. “Gently. Please,” she whimpered.
Michael closed his lips around the nub and felt the warm, fatty milk ooze out on to his tongue as he squeezed gently with his mouth.
“Damnit,” Rose sighed, gritting etimesgut escort her teeth.
“Too hard?” Michael asked, raising his head.
“It hurts, but it’s – it’s good,” Rose replied. She put her hand on the back of his head and guided him back down.
He nursed, slowly and gently as he could, teasing out a constant trickle of sweet milk. Outside he could still hear his wife, chatting with the neighbours in the sunny garden, but inside, in the shade of his bedroom there was only the sound of his sucking and Rose’s occasional gasp when he got carried away, or whimper when he got it just right.
“We, uh, we probably shouldn’t tell Jill about this,” she said at last. “Y’know, it’d be difficult-“
“No, probably best,” Michael agreed.
“Don’t stop,” Rose said urgently, pulling him back to her breast.
Michael nursed again, with renewed vigour, noticing that every time Rose gasped she pushed her breasts forward. His cock was aching, trapped between his jeans and his thigh.
“I think that’s enough on that one,” Rose said, “can you-?” she asked, proffering the other.
“Of course,” Michael replied, “d’you mind if I just stretch a little first, I’m getting a ache in my neck.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Rose said hurriedly, eager to maintain a cordial tone, “maybe a different position would be easier.”
“Yes, I wouldn’t want Jill wondering what I’ve done to hurt myself,” Michael laughed nervously.
“No, Jill is quite a worrier, isn’t she?” Rose added, equally without humour. “Well, perhaps if you lay down and I, err, I’ll be on all fours.”
“Yes, that seems like it’s be more comfortable,” Michael nodded practically.
He got to his feet and moved to lay on his bed, watching Rose as she pulled off her over-sized t-shirt and her bra, her eyes darting briefly to his crotch as she climbed up. She knelt, resting on her hands and knees above and perpendicular to him, then lowered her right breast to his waiting mouth.
“Oh god that’s good,” she breathed as he began suckling once again.
Michael revelled in the taste and sensation of Rose’s milk on his tongue; the new position keeping him swallowing over and over.
“It’s been so long since I’ve been – touched,” she groaned, looking for the right words, “like this.”
Michael gave a harder suck and Rose gasped and arched her back down, pressing both breasts to his face.
“Sorry,” he said quietly.
“Keep going,” Rose begged.
“I didn’t mean to, I just-“
“Plea-ah” she whimpered, gasping suddenly as he sucked harder than before and dragged her nipple between his teeth.
Her hand shot out and grabbed the buckle of his belt, yanking it open and diving inside his jeans to grasp his cock.
Beneath her, Michael sucked harder, eliciting a squirt of her creamy milk and threatening to topple her off the one arm which was still holding her up. She twisted her hand around his cock and stroked it quickly up and down, her knuckles gliding back and forth over his skin where his precum spilled out.
“Seems people can be hung,” she quipped, the grin disappearing from her face as she felt Michael’s fingers brush up her thigh and firmly trace the outline of her pussy through her leggings.
Michael’s other hand reached up and cupped the breast he wasn’t sucking on, taking its weight and gently squeezing it.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Rose muttered, brushing her thumb over the head of his cock, “this is bad.”
“Should I stop?” Michael asked, swirling his tongue around her nipple.
“No, stand up!” Rose replied, hurrying off the bed.
Michael rolled over and got up, briefly puzzled until Rose pulled his jeans down and pushed him backwards to sit on the edge of the bed. She pushed her leggings down and followed him, straddling him quickly and guiding his cock to her pussy.
“Jesus,” he murmured, “I definitely wasn’t expecting this today.”
Rose looked down as she sat on his lap, unconcerned about whether or not he’d expected anything.
“Just suck,” she etlik escort said, pulling his head to her breasts.
His tongue curled across one nipple while his hand returned to cup the other breast.
“You have no idea,” she said, her voice already uneasy, “no-one does. I’m in pain and uncomfortable, I’m sore, tired, and horny as fuck, and the one thing, the one thing that he could do anything about, and he doesn’t.”
Michael turned his head, feeling Rose’s leaking milk smear against the side of his face, but she took a fistful of his hair and pushed him down to lay flat on the bed, quickly holding herself above him on her outstretched arms and letting her breasts hang once more like heavy ripe fruit. He continued suckling and she ground down on his cock.
Jill and the neighbours was still audible outside and in stark contrast to the bright breezy day it was out there, the bedroom was dim with thick, fuggy air.
Michael bent his legs, placing his feet flat on the sheets and lifted his hips, pushing himself into his wife’s friend as she pushed back against him. She lowered her torso further, raising her hips and spreading herself wider as she smothered him with her milky breasts.
He thrust up, feeling her body quiver as he rocked her back and forth above himself. Her breasts mashed up and down against his face, his mouth constantly seeking a nipple to latch on to, her milk leaking continuously, wetting him and herself.
Beneath them the bed creaked, its frame threatening to collapse. Rose grunted as she rode her best friend’s husband, getting the first proper fuck she’d had in a year and intent on enjoying every moment of it.
“Harder,” she ordered, thrusting back against Michael’s cock each time he withdrew.
Apparently unsatisfied with his efforts she sat up, leaving him breathless, his red face anointed with her milk, and began to ride him harder than he could believe was possible. Her big breasts bounced, casting off drops of creamy milk as it leaked from her, her hands reaching back to support her as she thrust her pussy back and forth on him. She grunted with each thrust, the bed inching its way across the floor.
Michael reached a hand up to her breast, his fingertip touching a nipple, a thumb joining it and pinching.
“Uh, fuck!” Rose groaned, throwing her body forward and grabbing him to pull him up to suck again.
Sitting, their bodies writhed together, Rose’s legs stretched out behind Michael, her feet deep in the sheets for leverage as she continued to fuck him; his feet on the floor, his hands on her lower back, pulling her closer; and always, his head tilted and his mouth attached to her breasts.
She pistoned herself back and forth on him, pushing his head back down as he tried to raise it to speak. She was so close.
Michael took one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking on it hard and long, drawing on to his tongue a long creamy squirt of that delicious sweet milk. Rose’s fingernails dug hard into his shoulder blades and her body tensed around him, her legs locking about his waist and her pussy clamping down on his cock. She gasped, softening her grip, then tensed again, whimpering, the only movement between the two of them being Michael’s mouth as he tormented the swollen nub between his lips, desperate to distract his attention from the inevitable.
“Drink my milk,” Rose begged, her voice practically inaudible.
Michael moved his head and swapped breasts again. Rose’s pussy convulsed around him and he erupted inside her, sucking harder and harder as he came over and over, feeling like he’d burst as his cock pumped a thick load into her.
Rose’s thighs shook around him. She pulled his head back and away from her breasts, staring down at him, her mouth hanging open. Another tremble shook her again and she exhaled a whimper.
“That-” Michael began.
But Rose lowered her head and pressed her mouth firmly to his, kissing him slowly, her tongue meeting his and tasting her milk.
Outside Jill was still talking to the neighbours. The bedroom was silent again. Rose pulled back from the kiss, and moved backwards off Michael’s lap to stand beside the bed.
Michael, too, stood up, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.
“That was-” he began.
“Necessary,” Rose interrupted, “very, very necessary.”