Read Online Milked To The Max (MMF Threesome Lactation Sex) by Lyla Luray - Free Book Online
Authors: Lyla Luray
Tags: threesome, cuckold, infidelity, milking, lactation, male/female/male, mmf threesome, cuckold husband, lactation sex, mfm threesome, milking sex, forced milking, lactation threesome
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Milked To The Max
by Lyla Luray
Copyright 2013 by Lyla Luray
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved. All characters depicted
in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.
"Is that Stewart kid coming over already?" My
husband paused in the middle of pouring cream into his coffee and
squinted out the kitchen window.
I suppressed the shiver of sexual excitement
that ran through me. "I asked Kyle if he could look at the rocking
chair," I said casually. "It's been wobbling a little bit and it
makes Oscar cranky when I nurse him."
Martin grunted, already distracted by his
iPhone. His salt and pepper hair was all I could see of him as he
turned away from me.
"I'll just go meet Kyle at the door," I said,
still ultra-casual. "Don't want the doorbell to wake Oscar up."
I ran my hands over my breasts and hips as I
hurried to the foyer. I hadn't had time to dress yet because Oscar,
my five month old, had been fussy all night and I'd only just
gotten him settled for a morning nap. I was only wearing a short
silky robe over a pair of panties. My breasts, huge and swollen
with milk, threatened to spill out of the robe's loose plunging
neckline. It was a pretty skimpy outfit even for breakfast, not to
mention for supervising the hired help.
Not that Martin had noticed.
Not that you need him to notice
anymore .
I opened the front door just in time to see
Kyle coming up the porch steps. My breath caught.
Even now, weeks into what could only be
called Our Torrid and Scandalous Affair, it still amazed me how
gorgeous Kyle Stewart had become. He was only fifteen when I first
married Martin Jameson and moved in next door to Kyle's family. Now
he was eighteen, getting ready for college in the fall, and he
looked like a young man just hitting the prime of his life: tall
and slim and strong, eager for new experiences.
And he was only a few years younger than me.
A married housewife with a baby and a much older husband.
Kyle's brown eyes crinkled as he grinned at
me. "I know I'm early," he said, "but I just couldn't wait to see
you." He kept his voice low, but I felt a shock of fear about
Martin possibly overhearing, which was wildly thrilling.
"It's okay," I told him, a little
breathlessly. "Mr. Jameson's just finishing breakfast, then he'll
be off to work. Come up to the nursery—you're supposed to be
'fixing' the rocking chair."
I led the way upstairs, aware of Kyle
following close behind, his hungry gaze focused on me the whole
time, almost physical in its intensity.
As soon as we got inside the nursery he shut
the door and leaned on it, pulling me back against him. His big
hands slid inside my robe to cup my full, aching breasts. My
nipples perked to life as I ground my bottom against his crotch—I
could tell through his khaki shorts that he was already
half-hard.
Kyle groaned and bent his head to kiss the
side of my neck. "Holy shit, Lana," he whispered. "I always miss
your tits so much. Last night I ached for you for hours. Basically
rubbed my dick raw, I jerked off so many times."
I giggled and arched my back, thrusting my
breasts more firmly into his hands. My nipples were already peaked,
and they dragged deliciously against Kyle's palms. "I hope you left
something for me to play with today," I teased him.
"No worries about that—you'll always get me
going."
It was one of the benefits of Kyle being a
young guy. Compared to Martin, who at age fifty was almost thirty
years older than me, Kyle never had trouble getting hard or making
love to me for hours at a time, even if I demanded consecutive
sessions.
My sex life with Martin used to be pretty
fantastic: before I got pregnant I had a young, hot body which he
just couldn't get enough of. I know the gossip around the
neighborhood is that I'm one of those young gold diggers, but
outside of the bedroom I really do love Martin. And in spite of the
distance between us lately, I know he loves me as well. He does his
best to keep up with my sexual
by Lyla Luray
Copyright 2013 by Lyla Luray
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved. All characters depicted
in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.
"Is that Stewart kid coming over already?" My
husband paused in the middle of pouring cream into his coffee and
squinted out the kitchen window.
I suppressed the shiver of sexual excitement
that ran through me. "I asked Kyle if he could look at the rocking
chair," I said casually. "It's been wobbling a little bit and it
makes Oscar cranky when I nurse him."
Martin grunted, already distracted by his
iPhone. His salt and pepper hair was all I could see of him as he
turned away from me.
"I'll just go meet Kyle at the door," I said,
still ultra-casual. "Don't want the doorbell to wake Oscar up."
I ran my hands over my breasts and hips as I
hurried to the foyer. I hadn't had time to dress yet because Oscar,
my five month old, had been fussy all night and I'd only just
gotten him settled for a morning nap. I was only wearing a short
silky robe over a pair of panties. My breasts, huge and swollen
with milk, threatened to spill out of the robe's loose plunging
neckline. It was a pretty skimpy outfit even for breakfast, not to
mention for supervising the hired help.
Not that Martin had noticed.
Not that you need him to notice
anymore .
I opened the front door just in time to see
Kyle coming up the porch steps. My breath caught.
Even now, weeks into what could only be
called Our Torrid and Scandalous Affair, it still amazed me how
gorgeous Kyle Stewart had become. He was only fifteen when I first
married Martin Jameson and moved in next door to Kyle's family. Now
he was eighteen, getting ready for college in the fall, and he
looked like a young man just hitting the prime of his life: tall
and slim and strong, eager for new experiences.
And he was only a few years younger than me.
A married housewife with a baby and a much older husband.
Kyle's brown eyes crinkled as he grinned at
me. "I know I'm early," he said, "but I just couldn't wait to see
you." He kept his voice low, but I felt a shock of fear about
Martin possibly overhearing, which was wildly thrilling.
"It's okay," I told him, a little
breathlessly. "Mr. Jameson's just finishing breakfast, then he'll
be off to work. Come up to the nursery—you're supposed to be
'fixing' the rocking chair."
I led the way upstairs, aware of Kyle
following close behind, his hungry gaze focused on me the whole
time, almost physical in its intensity.
As soon as we got inside the nursery he shut
the door and leaned on it, pulling me back against him. His big
hands slid inside my robe to cup my full, aching breasts. My
nipples perked to life as I ground my bottom against his crotch—I
could tell through his khaki shorts that he was already
half-hard.
Kyle groaned and bent his head to kiss the
side of my neck. "Holy shit, Lana," he whispered. "I always miss
your tits so much. Last night I ached for you for hours. Basically
rubbed my dick raw, I jerked off so many times."
I giggled and arched my back, thrusting my
breasts more firmly into his hands. My nipples were already peaked,
and they dragged deliciously against Kyle's palms. "I hope you left
something for me to play with today," I teased him.
"No worries about that—you'll always get me
going."
It was one of the benefits of Kyle being a
young guy. Compared to Martin, who at age fifty was almost thirty
years older than me, Kyle never had trouble getting hard or making
love to me for hours at a time, even if I demanded consecutive
sessions.
My sex life with Martin used to be pretty
fantastic: before I got pregnant I had a young, hot body which he
just couldn't get enough of. I know the gossip around the
neighborhood is that I'm one of those young gold diggers, but
outside of the bedroom I really do love Martin. And in spite of the
distance between us lately, I know he loves me as well. He does his
best to keep up with my sexual
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