Adultery Mom became hucow

[samanthasam]

The summer heat settled over Greenfield like a heavy blanket, turning the fields golden and the air thick with the hum of insects. Sarah's days stretched longer now, her body demanding more attention as the changes deepened. Each morning, after sipping from the endless bottle, she felt the warmth spread, her breasts swelling further against her simple cotton tops. They were fuller than ever, heavy orbs that swayed with every step, nipples perpetually sensitive and leaking if she didn't tend to them soon enough. She had taken to wearing loose shawls to hide the damp spots, but at home, with the kids, she let the barriers drop.

One evening, as the sun dipped low and painted the kitchen in oranges, Sarah prepared dinner. The stew simmered on the stove, chunks of potato and carrot bubbling in a broth enriched with her milk. Tim chopped herbs from the garden, his knife strokes careful and precise—he was twelve now, his shoulders broadening from the work, but still so young in his questions. Lily stirred the pot, standing on a stool, her tongue poking out in concentration.

'Mom, why does the stew taste sweeter lately?' Lily asked, sniffing the steam.

Sarah smiled, stirring in a handful of greens. 'It's the special ingredient we talked about. Makes everything better.'

Tim glanced up from his cutting board. 'Your milk? Like the bread?'

'Yes, love. A bit in there. Helps you grow strong.' She watched him nod, accepting it without fuss. The kids had tasted it so often now—mixed in porridge, drizzled on fruit—that it was just part of their meals. No big secret anymore, but still their little world.

After eating, with bellies full and the dishes washed, Sarah felt the familiar ache building. Her breasts throbbed, milk beading at her nipples through the fabric. 'Time to help Mom,' she said softly, settling into the old rocking chair by the fire. The kids knew the routine; they came without prompting, kneeling on the woven rug.

Lily went first, as always, her small hands resting on Sarah's thigh for balance. She lifted the hem of Sarah's blouse, exposing one swollen breast—veins tracing blue lines across the pale skin, the areola wide and dark. Lily latched on gently, her mouth sucking in rhythmic pulls. Milk let down in warm spurts, filling her cheeks as she swallowed. Sarah sighed, the relief washing over her like cool water on a hot day. Lily's tongue flicked occasionally, innocent exploration, drawing out more flow.

'Good girl,' Sarah murmured, stroking her daughter's hair. Lily unlatched after a while, milk dribbling from her lip. 'All gone?'

'Almost. It tastes like vanilla today.' Lily beamed, wiping her mouth on her sleeve.

Tim took his turn, his approach firmer. He cupped the underside of Sarah's breast, lifting its weight as he brought his mouth to the nipple. His sucks were deeper, pulling harder, and Sarah felt a deeper release, milk streaming steadily. The sensation tingled down her spine, pooling warmth between her legs—a subtle throb in her pussy that she ignored for now, focusing on the care in his eyes. He was learning, his hands gentle but curious, thumb brushing the soft skin now and then.

When he finished, both breasts lighter, Sarah pulled her blouse down. 'Thank you, both. Couldn't do it without you.'

They snuggled close for a bit, Tim's head on her shoulder, Lily curled against her side. 'You're like our magic cow,' Tim said sleepily. 'But you hug back.'

Sarah chuckled, the word 'hucow' echoing in her mind from Mr. Rao's hints. She didn't correct him; it felt right in their bubble.

The next few days brought routine chores under the relentless sun. Sarah and the kids tended the garden, harvesting early tomatoes that burst juicy on the tongue. Tim hauled water from the well, his arms straining but succeeding, while Lily weeded the rows, singing little songs. Sarah's body moved differently now—her hips swayed more, her steps measured to accommodate the jiggle of her chest. Sweat beaded on her skin, mixing with stray leaks, but she pressed on, expressing privately in the barn when the kids played nearby.

There, alone with the animals' low moos, she sat on a stool, unbuttoning fully. Her breasts spilled out, larger than hands could hold, nipples erect and dripping. She squeezed rhythmically, milk jetting into a pail below, the sound rhythmic and soothing. Each pull sent jolts through her, her pussy clenching faintly, wetness gathering on her thighs. The magic was shifting her desires, making solitude feel empty.

Mr. Rao's words returned: closeness releases the flow better. She wondered what he meant exactly—more with the kids, or something with him? The thought made her cheeks heat, but she capped the pail and returned to the house.

A week later, the village fair arrived, a rare burst of color in their quiet lives. Stalls lined the square with handmade baskets, spiced nuts, and games for the children. Sarah dressed carefully, binding her chest as best she could under a loose dress, but it did little to hide the curves. Tim and Lily skipped ahead, eyes wide at the sights.

'Look, Mom! Pony rides!' Lily pointed to a fenced area where kids mounted gentle beasts.

'After we get sweets,' Tim said, protective as ever.

Sarah bought candied apples, the sticky treat pulling laughs as juice dripped. They wandered, the crowd thinning near the dairy tents. Mr. Rao's booth was prominent, cheeses displayed like treasures, his truck parked behind with fresh hay bales.

He spotted them, grinning wide. 'Family! Come try the new curd—creamy as fresh cream.' He handed samples on wooden spoons. Lily slurped hers, declaring it the best, while Tim savored slowly.

'Good to see you thriving,' Mr. Rao said to Sarah, his voice dropping as the kids dashed to watch jugglers. 'The fair's lively this year. You... carrying well?'

She nodded, adjusting her shawl. A damp spot bloomed under the fabric, and she crossed her arms. 'More than ever. The bottle... it's potent.'

His eyes lingered on her chest, knowing. 'It is. Made for women like you—turning hardship to abundance. But it builds pressure. Ever think on what I said? Touch, real and deep, eases it all.'

Sarah's pulse quickened, her nipples hardening at the implication. 'With who?'

'Anyone close. Starts simple. The kids help, but more... intimacy stirs the source.' He paused, glancing at Tim and Lily returning with sticky faces. 'Think on it. I'll deliver supplies tomorrow—stop by if you need advice.'

The fair ended with fireworks, bursts of light reflecting in the kids' excited eyes as they walked home. That night, after the usual helping, Sarah lay awake, her hand absently cupping a breast. Milk beaded under her palm, and she squeezed lightly, a spurt soaking the sheet. The throb in her core grew insistent, her pussy slick with need she hadn't felt in years. She slid a finger down, tracing her folds, but stopped—too soon, too alone.

Morning brought Mr. Rao's truck rumbling up the path, earlier than expected. He unloaded crates of feed and a jug of his regular milk. 'For the house,' he called. Tim and Lily ran out to help, carrying small sacks inside.

Sarah met him at the barn, where he stacked hay. 'You came quick.'

'Heard the fair tired folks out. Thought you'd need restock.' He straightened, wiping sweat from his brow, his shirt clinging to a broad chest. 'And to check on you. How's the flow?'

She hesitated, then led him to the corner where her pail sat half-full from dawn. 'Like this. Endless.'

He peered in, nodding approval. 'Rich stuff. Prime for the family.' His hand brushed her arm as he turned. 'Let me show you a trick—old way to stimulate without strain.'

Before she could respond, the kids called from the house—breakfast ready. He smiled. 'Later, perhaps. No hurry.'

The day unfolded with his help lingering: fixing a fence post while Tim watched and learned, showing Lily how to milk the village goat they'd borrowed. Sarah worked nearby, feeling his gaze, the air charged. By afternoon, as he prepared to leave, he pulled her aside behind the barn.

'Feel that pull?' he asked softly. 'The magic wants more. Let me massage—eases the ache, boosts the yield.'

Her breath hitched, but she nodded, curiosity winning. The kids napped inside after lunch. In the shaded barn, she sat on the stool, blouse open. Mr. Rao knelt, his rough hands warm on her skin. He cupped one breast, thumb circling the nipple gently, then squeezed base to tip. Milk arced out in strong streams, stronger than her own efforts.

'Like that,' he murmured. 'Firm but kind. Builds the let-down.' His touch lingered, kneading the flesh, sending sparks straight to her clit. She bit her lip, pussy clenching as wetness soaked her undergarments.

It lasted minutes, both breasts emptied fully, her body humming. 'Thank you,' she whispered, dressing.

'Anytime. It's just starting.' He left with a wink, the truck fading down the road.

That evening, the kids noticed her glow. 'You look happy, Mom,' Lily said over dinner.

'I am. Things are getting better.' And as they helped later, their mouths on her refreshed breasts, Sarah felt the magic weave tighter, pulling her family—and perhaps more—into its endless flow.