Chapter 86: Express Milk
Scene 1
Tara sat at her vanity, one hand scrolling through Instagram while her other arm cradled Aryan. Her baby boy was feeding at her left breast, his tiny hand resting on the curve of her golden skin. Her ivory cotton saree blouse already had two dark circles where milk had leaked, the fabric sticking to her dark, swollen nipples.
Her phone screen scrolled past yet another of Vanitha’s posts... another carefully posed shot of her in saree, another collection of thirsty comments from men and jealous compliments from women. Tara’s jaw tightened. 3 million followers. Tara’s one hundred thousand followers is nothing compared to Vanitha’s, and Vanitha didn’t even work for it. She just existed, and people followed. That’s another source of envy and jealousy for Tara.
Tara closed the app and closed her eyes roll. Summer had air dropped all her lingerie pictures and she intentionally included the cock pics as well. That image of a dark, thick cock framing Summer’s flushed white face. The foreskin pulled back to show the wide, plum-colored head. The shaft so dark against her pale lips.
Disgusting. That‘s what it was. Disgusting.
She told herself again. Disgusting. The word sat heavy in her mouth. A 48 year old man with a 24 year old woman. It was sick. It was wrong. It was...
Aryan pulled back from her nipple with a loud, wet pop. Before Tara could reposition him, her left breast released a forceful jet of milk. The white stream arced across Aryan’s cheek, spattering the front of her open blouse.
“Oops,” she murmured, smiling down at him. “Excited to eat today?”
A second thick stream followed the first, running in a slow, warm line down the underside of her breast. The milk soaked through the thin silk of her blouse, turning it transparent against her dark areola.
Tara wiped Aryan’s cheek with the back of her wrist. She didn’t wipe her own breast. The cool air raised goosebumps across her damp skin, her nipple hardening in response.
Her right breast, still untouched, began to bead with milk. A single drop formed at the tip of her nipple, hanging for a moment before falling to land on her thigh. Another followed, then another, creating a small wet spot on the silk of her saree.
Tara looked back at her phone. Summer‘s tongue just visible at the base of that thick shaft. Her eyes looking up at the camera, bright with challenge and satisfaction.
Tara’s free hand moved to her own breast without seeming to notice. Her fingers brushed the underside, feeling the weight of it, the heat. Another drop of milk formed at her right nipple, falling to join the others on her thigh.
The image changed again with her next swipe. Summer on her back, legs spread, that same dark cock buried inside her. Her face a study in ecstasy, her lips parted, her eyes half-closed.
Tara‘s throat went dry. Her fingers pressed harder into the soft flesh of her breast, not quite massaging, not quite holding. Her right nipple was fully hard now, the areola puckered tight, milk dripping steadily onto her lap.
She swiped again. Another angle of the same position, this one showing the full length of the shaft disappearing into Summer’s pale pussy. The contrast was obscene... his dark skin against her white thighs, his thick cock stretching her open.
Tara’s free hand moved lower, coming to rest on her own thigh just above the gathered wetness of her saree. Her fingers pressed into the silk, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric.
“I shouldn’t be looking at this,” she whispered to Aryan, who had started to fuss, his tiny hands pushing at her breast. “It’s wrong.”
But her thumb kept moving across the screen, pulling up the next image. This one was a close-up... just Summer’s face, her lips stretched around that thick shaft, her eyes looking directly at the camera. You could see everything... the way her jaw had to strain to accommodate his size, the way her lips couldn’t close around his girth.
Tara‘s breath caught. Her hand on her thigh inched higher, fingers curling into the gathered silk of her saree. Her right breast was leaking freely now, milk running in thin stream down the curve of her stomach, soaking into the waistband of her petticoat.
“Disgusting,” she said again, but the word had lost its edge. Her voice came out softer, almost wondering. “Just... disgusting.”
Aryan’s fussing grew louder. Tara shifted him to her right breast, helping him latch on. The sudden pressure made her gasp... her breasts were so sensitive that even the gentle pull of his mouth sent a jolt straight through her core.
Her free hand stayed on her thigh, her fingers now pressing hard enough to leave marks in the silk. The image of that dark cock filled her mind again... the thickness of it, the way it had stretched Summer’s lips, the absolute certainty that it could fill her completely.
Her clit began to throb, a slow, insistent pulse that matched the rhythm of Aryan’s sucking. Between her legs, her pussy was growing warm, liquid heat pooling at her center. She pressed her thighs together, the pressure sending a shock of pleasure through her body.
“I should delete these,” she told Aryan, who had settled into a steady rhythm at her breast. “They’re inappropriate.”
But her thumb hovered over the delete button, not pressing. Her eyes stayed fixed on the screen, on the image of Summer with that thick cock in her mouth. On Selvam’s cock. Vanitha’s father-in-law’s cock.
Tara’s hand moved from her thigh to the waistband of her petticoat. Her fingers slipped beneath the thin fabric, finding the edge of her thong. The silk was already damp, the center of the crotch warm with her arousal.
“This is wrong,” she whispered, but her finger traced the edge of the thong, following the line where it disappeared between her legs. “So wrong.”
Aryan pulled back from her nipple, his little face scrunching up in protest. Milk sprayed from her breast again, catching him on the cheek and chin. Tara laughed, the sound strained. “Always so hungry, baby.”
She repositioned him, helping him latch onto her left breast again. The movement made both breasts bounce, milk dripping from her right nipple to land on the vanity. Her phone screen had gone dark from inactivity, but the image remained burned into her mind... that dark, thick shaft, those pale lips stretched around it.
Her fingers pressed harder against her thong, the thin fabric now completely soaked through. Her clit was throbbing in earnest now, her pussy so wet she could feel it dripping onto the silk of her saree.
“I need to stop this,” she said, but made no move to close the app or put down the phone. Instead, she turned the screen back on, swiping to the first image again... that dark cock framing Summer’s flushed face.
The last of her resistance crumbled. Her hand slipped fully beneath her thong, her fingers finding her swollen clit. The touch made her gasp, her back arching slightly. Aryan made a small sound of protest at the movement, but she barely noticed.
“Disgusting,” she whispered one last time, but the word had no meaning anymore. There was only the image on the screen, the heat between her legs, and the absolute certainty that she wanted to see more.
Scene 2
Selvam ran the quiet Los Gatos streets, the early morning air cool against his bare arms. His grey compression shorts and sleeveless training shirt kept him comfortable despite his pace. His waxed chest and arms caught the low California light, his body a testament to his disciplined routine.
He rounded the corner onto the tree-lined block and his pace dropped without a decision being made. Tara and Mohan’s villa filled his sight line. Terracotta roofline, arched windows throwing back the gold of the sunrise. The olive grove along the left perimeter. The infinity pool glinting just visible beyond the iron gate.
He’d made the offer on the house yesterday. Six million cash, no contingencies. It was more than the property was worth, but he wanted it. Wanted Vanitha to have it. Wanted to be able to see her from his kitchen window, to know she was just steps away.
He clocked the dual kitchen windows on the ground floor. He held the image of Vanitha moving between that kitchen, belonging to both houses, both lives. Her saree floating around her legs, her smile when she caught him watching.
He was about to push back into his stride when the front door opened. Tara stepped out onto the stone path to the mailbox.
She was in the ivory cotton saree, dbangd low on her hips. The sleeveless blouse did nothing to conceal the two spreading damp patches at her chest. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, falling in glossy waves down her back. A thin gold waist chain circled her hips, the tiny bells jingling softly as she walked.
She looked up and their eyes met across the front lawn.
Selvam stopped his run. He knew that look. It was the same one Vanitha had given him that first night... a mixture of shock, hunger, and calculation. He’d seen it on Summer‘s face too, when she’d first taken his cock in her mouth. Women who knew exactly what they wanted and weren’t afraid to get it.
Tara had dressed for this, though she would not say so. The saree was dbangd to emphasize her ass, the blouse cut to reveal the curve of her breasts. The wet patches on her chest were deliberate too... she’d fed Aryan right before coming out, knowing her milk would leak, knowing the effect it would have.
“Good morning, Uncle” she called, her voice carrying the practiced warmth she used for her Instagram stories. “Out for a run?”
Selvam nodded, walking toward her with measured steps. “Morning routine,” he said. “Keeps me sane.”
She smiled, her eyes moving over his chest, arms, and then, unmistakably, dropping to his cock with the same measuring look she gave Vanitha. Except what she found in Selvam stopped that calculus cold.
He stood before her, unhurried, polite, entirely unintimidated. His cock was half-hard from his run, pressing visibly against the thin fabric of his shorts. He made no attempt to hide it, no move to adjust himself or step back. He simply waited, watching as Tara’s eyes widened slightly, her lips parting.
“How’s Aryan?” he asked, his tone conversational. “Vanitha mentioned he was having trouble sleeping through the night.”
Tara opened her mouth to answer, then paused. Her eyes had dropped to his cock again, the outline clear beneath the grey fabric. She looked back up at his face with visible effort.
“He’s... good,” she said finally. “Better. The last two nights...” She laughed, the sound slightly higher than normal. “Sorry, what was the question?”
Selvam smiled, not pushing. “Aryan. How is he sleeping?”
“Right.” Tara nodded quickly. “Better. The last two nights he’s only woken up once.” Her hand moved to adjust her pallu, the loose end of her saree. “We’re thinking of transitioning him to his own room next month.”
The movement made her pallu slip off her left shoulder. She caught it, but not before Selvam’s eyes dropped for a single, controlled beat to the wet fabric plastered against her left breast. The dark shape of her nipple was visible through the soaked cotton, the areola puckered tight from the cool morning air.
He did not react. No raised brow, no held breath, nothing. He simply brought his eyes back to her face and waited.
That non-reaction made her go very still. Her own eyes kept sliding down to the line of his cock under his gym shorts, the thick outline pressing against the grey fabric. She pulled her gaze back up each time with visible effort.
“It’s a beautiful morning,” she said, her voice steadier now. “I always forget how nice it is here before the heat hits.”
“It is,” Selvam agreed. “That’s why I run early. By ten, it’s too much.”
She nodded, her fingers playing with the edge of her pallu. “Smart. I should get Mohan to start running again. He’s been talking about it for months.”
“How is Mohan?” Selvam asked. “Vanitha mentioned he‘s been working long hours.”
The question was innocent enough, but something in Tara’s expression shifted. A flash of something... disappointment, perhaps, or frustration... crossed her face before she smoothed it away.
“He’s good,” she said. “Busy with the new client. He‘s hardly home these days.”
She said it lightly, but Selvam caught the edge beneath the words. A marriage under strain, a wife left alone with an infant. He‘d seen it before... the slow drift apart, the conversations that became transactions, the bed that grew colder by the month.
“It‘s hard,” he said simply. “The first year with a child. You’re both finding your footing.”
Something in Tara’s face softened at that. Her eyes met his, genuine for the first time since she‘d stepped onto the path. “Yes,” she said. “Exactly.”
The moment stretched between them, loaded with possibility. Then Selvam nodded, stepping back slightly. “I should finish my run,” he said. “Good seeing you, Tara.”
“You too,” she replied, her eyes dropping one last time to his cock before meeting his gaze.
“Wait,” Tara said, the word escaping before she could stop it. Her heart hammered against her ribs as Selvam paused, turning back to face her. “Would you... would you like to come in for coffee? I just brewed a fresh pot.”
She hadn’t. The coffeemaker sat empty in her kitchen, the grounds from yesterday still in the filter. But the lie came easily, her mouth forming the words before her brain could catch up.
Selvam’s expression remained neutral, but something shifted in his eyes... a flicker of understanding, perhaps, or curiosity. “Coffee sounds good,” he said. “Thank you.”
Tara led him through the front door, acutely aware of the way her saree whispered against her thighs with each step. The cool marble of the entryway felt good against her bare feet, a welcome relief from the heat building under her skin. She could feel Selvam’s eyes on her back, tracking the sway of her hips, the way the saree clung to her round ass. Her nipples were painfully hard now, the wet patches on her blouse spreading with each beat of her heart.
“Actually, would you like to eat something?” Tara asked, her voice higher than she intended. “I was about to make breakfast. It’s no trouble.”
Selvam paused, his hand on the doorframe. “I thought you said just coffee.”
Her cheeks flushed. “I did. But I’m hungry myself, and it seems rude not to offer.” She gestured toward the kitchen. “Please, stay. I make excellent dosas.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Breakfast would be nice. Thank you.”
The kitchen gleamed with morning light streaming through the arched windows. Tara moved with practiced ease, pulling ingredients from the refrigerator while Selvam settled onto a barstool at the island. Her breasts felt heavy, aching as she reached for the flour. She hadn’t fully fed Aryan, and her body was already responding to the neglect
“Vanitha mentioned you’re from Chennai originally,” she said, mixing the batter with quick, confident motions. “I thought you might appreciate some proper South Indian food.”
“I would.” Selvam watched her hands as they worked the dough. “It’s been a while since I’ve had homemade dosas.”
Tara smiled, pleased at his interest. The batter sizzled as she poured it onto the hot tawa, the familiar scent filling the kitchen. Her breasts throbbed with each movement, milk building uncomfortably inside. She shifted her weight, trying to ease the pressure.
“Would you like something to drink while we wait?” she asked, flipping the dosa with a practiced flick of her wrist. “I have juice, water...”
Her eyes met Selvam’s, and she felt a fresh wave of milk bead at her nipples. “Or perhaps... milk?”
Selvam’s eyes darkened at her words, his gaze dropping briefly to her chest before meeting her eyes again. “Milk,” he repeated, the word carrying a weight that made Tara’s skin flush hot. “That would be... refreshing.”
She turned away, reaching for the refrigerator door to hide her smile. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled out a carton of milk. “I find it’s best when it’s... fresh,” she said, setting the carton on the counter. “Don’t you think?”
“Nothing compares to fresh,” Selvam agreed, his voice dropping to a lower register. “The taste, the warmth... it’s incomparable.”
Tara poured the milk into a glass, deliberately overfilling it so a few drops spilled onto her wrist. She licked them away slowly, watching Selvam over the rim of the glass. “I’ve always had an abundant supply,” she said, handing him the drink. “More than enough to go around.”
Selvam accepted the glass, his fingers brushing against hers. “I’ve heard some women struggle to produce enough. It must be satisfying to know you can... provide.”
“Oh, I provide,” Tara said, turning back to flip the dosa. “Sometimes I produce so much I can’t contain it.” She glanced over her shoulder, catching his eyes on her wet blouse. “It just... spills out. No matter how hard I try to hold it in.”
The kitchen felt suddenly smaller, the air between them charged with something that made Tara’s nipples ache. A drop of milk leaked from her right breast, leaving a dark spot on her blouse. She felt the wetness spreading, the fabric growing heavy against her skin.
Selvam leaned forward, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. “Did you express today, Tara?”
Tara’s hands froze above the dosa batter. The question hung in the air between them, simple yet somehow intimate. She looked at him, genuine confusion crossing her face.
“Express?” she repeated, the word unfamiliar on her tongue. “What do you mean?”
Selvam’s expression softened with understanding. “When your breasts become too full, you can use a pump to remove some milk. It relieves the pressure.”
Tara set the ladle down, her brow furrowing. “I didn’t know that was something you could do.” She glanced down at her chest, at the spreading dark circles on her blouse. “My mother never mentioned it. I moved to the US for college, and by the time Aryan came along...” She shrugged, a flush creeping up her neck. “I just assumed the leaking was normal.”
“It is normal, and it is beautiful if I may add” Selvam said, his voice warm with reassurance. “But it can be uncomfortable. You shouldn’t have to walk around so... full all the time.”
Tara’s chest tightened at his words, at the gentle concern in his voice. No one had ever asked her this before... not Mohan, not her doctor, not the lactation consultant who had shown her how to position Aryan. They all assumed she knew, that her body’s needs were obvious and understood.
“I didn’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I thought... I thought the leaking meant I was a good mother. That I was producing enough.”
“You are a good mother,” Selvam said. “But you don’t have to be uncomfortable.”
Tara looked at him, really looked at him. This man who was supposed to be the enemy, who had come to take her home, was sitting at her kitchen island showing more care for her comfort than her own husband had in months. The realization hit her like a physical blow.
“I could show you,” Selvam offered, his voice gentle. “How to express properly. If you’d like.”
Tara’s breath caught in her throat. The image of his hands on her breasts, helping her relieve the pressure that had built up for months, made her knees weak. Milk leaked from her right nipple in a thin stream, darkening the fabric of her blouse further.
“Would you?” she asked, her voice barely audible. “I... I don’t know how to do it myself.”
Selvam nodded, his expression serious despite the heat in his eyes. “It would be my pleasure to help.”
Tara turned off the stove, her hands trembling. The dosa sat half-cooked on the tawa, forgotten. She led Selvam through the house, up the curved staircase to the master bedroom. The morning light streamed through the tall windows, catching on the gold accents of her vanity, the crystal perfume bottles arranged in a perfect line.
Tara stood in the center of the room, suddenly self-conscious despite her earlier confidence. “I’ve never... done this before.”
“I mean with expressing,” Tara clarified, her voice dropping to a whisper. She stood before him, her golden skin glowing in the morning light. With trembling fingers, she reached for the loose end of her saree and let it fall from her shoulder.
The pallu slipped down her arm, pooling at her feet in a whisper of ivory cotton. Her blouse was now fully visible... the damp patches had spread, the fabric clinging transparent to her swollen breasts. Her dark nipples were visible through the wet silk, hard and beaded with fresh milk.
“I’ve never done this before, Uncle,” she said, her eyes meeting his. “Shown anyone how... full I am.”
Selvam watched her, his expression carefully controlled despite the heat building in his chest. This wasn’t part of Summer’s plan. The house, yes. The flirtation, maybe. But this... Tara standing before him, her breasts heavy with milk, her eyes dark with desire... this was unexpected.
“You don’t have to call me Uncle,” he said, his voice gentle. “We’re both adults.”
Tara’s lips curved into a smile. “But you are my elder, Uncle. Fourteen years older.” She took a step toward him, the gold waist chain jingling softly with her movement. “And so much more... experienced.”
Selvam’s cock hardened further in his shorts. The outline was impossible to hide now, the thick shaft pressing against the grey fabric. He could see Tara’s eyes drop to it, her breath catching at the sight.
“Let me help you,” he said, his voice rough with desire. He stepped closer, his hands hovering just above her shoulders. “Show me how you’ve been suffering.”
Tara’s heart hammered against her ribs as she turned, presenting her self to him. She dropped her pallu to reveal her blouse. “The blouse has front hooks,” she whispered, her voice trembling with anticipation.
Selvam’s fingers found the edge of her blouse, his touch was warm against her cleavage as located the row of small hooks running down her cleavage. With deliberate slowness, he began to unfasten them, one by one.
Tara’s breath caught with each release, the blouse loosening around her body. When the last hook came free, she felt the fabric fall open, exposing her nursing bra. She came closer, her eyes locked on his.
“Help me, Uncle,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I’ve been so full for so long.”
Selvam’s gaze dropped to her nursing bra. His hands moved to the front of the garment, finding the clasp of her nursing bra.
With a soft click, the bra released. Tara’s breasts spilled free, heavy and swollen, her dark nipples standing proud against her golden skin. Milk already beaded at the tips, threatening to spill at the slightest movement.
“Beautiful,” Selvam murmured, his voice rough with appreciation. “You’ve been carrying this weight for too long.”
Tara watched, transfixed, as his large hands came to cup her breasts. The warmth of his palms against her sensitive skin made her gasp. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, and the effect was immediate.
A powerful jet of milk erupted from her right breast, arcing through the air to splash against Selvam’s chest. The white stream caught him full in the face, running down his neck and soaking into his training shirt. More followed, spraying in thick pulses that darkened the grey fabric in seconds.
“Oh!” Tara cried, her back arching at the release. “I didn’t know it could... “
Another gush cut off her words, this one from her left breast. Milk spattered across Selvam’s face, catching in his eyelashes, dripping from his chin. He didn’t flinch, didn’t step back. Instead, his hands continued their gentle massage, working the milk from her swollen breasts with practiced efficiency.
“This is... “ Tara’s words dissolved into a moan as the pressure inside her began to ease. Milk sprayed from her nipples in rhythmic pulses, soaking Selvam’s shirt, his face, his arms. “I’ve never felt anything like this.”
Selvam’s expression remained focused despite the milk streaming down his face. “You’ve been holding back too much,” he said, his voice steady despite the mess. “Your body needs release.”
Without breaking contact with her breasts, he reached down with one hand and pulled his training shirt over his head in one fluid motion. The fabric came away soaked, revealing his chest... smooth and waxed, the dark skin gleaming with milk. His abs were sharply defined, a testament to years of disciplined exercise.
Tara’s eyes widened at the sight. The milk had created a glistening sheen across his chest, highlighting the contours of his muscles. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered, the words escaping before she could stop them.
Selvam’s hands returned to her breasts, his grip firmer now. “Let me help you fully,” he said, his thumbs circling her areolas. “You deserve to be completely empty.”
He pressed deeper into the soft tissue, finding the milk ducts with unerring accuracy. The effect was immediate and overwhelming. Milk erupted from both nipples simultaneously, spraying in wild arcs that caught Selvam across the face, the chest, the stomach. It splattered against the marble floor, creating a growing puddle at their feet.
Tara cried out, her knees buckling at the intensity of the release. Selvam’s hands kept working, drawing out the milk with steady, rhythmic pressure. Her breasts responded with renewed force, the milk coming in thick streams that showed no sign of stopping.
“Look at you,” Selvam said, his voice thick with admiration. “So full, so abundant.”
Tara’s eyes dropped to his chest, to the milk running in rivulets down his abs, pooling in the shallow valley between his muscles. The sight sent a fresh wave of heat through her body, her pussy clenching with sudden, urgent need.
“Maybe,” she said, her voice dropping to a husky whisper, “maybe you should use your mouth.”
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with implication. Selvam’s eyes darkened, his hands stilling on her breasts.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice carefully controlled despite the obvious bulge straining against his shorts.
Tara nodded, unable to form words. The image from Summer’s photos flashed in her mind... that thick, dark cock, the foreskin pulled back to reveal the plum-colored head. She wanted to taste it, to feel it, to know what Summer had experienced.
Selvam lowered his head slowly, his lips parting as he approached her right breast. The first touch of his mouth against her nipple sent a jolt of pleasure so intense that Tara’s legs nearly gave out. He sucked gently, his tongue working in slow circles around the sensitive areola.
Milk flooded into his mouth, the release even more powerful than before. Tara watched, transfixed, as he drank from her, his dark skin a stark contrast against her golden breast. His eyes remained open, locked on hers as he swallowed, the sight of him feeding from her body making her dizzy with desire.
He switched to her left breast, his mouth sealing around the nipple with the same deliberate care. The suction was perfect... strong enough to draw the milk out, gentle enough to avoid pain. Tara’s hand came up to cradle the back of his head, her fingers threading through his salt-and-pepper hair.
“Yes,” she whispered, her hips beginning to rock unconsciously against the empty air. “Just like that.”
Selvam worked both breasts in turn, his hands supporting the heavy weight of her flesh as he drank. The milk came easier now, flowing freely into his mouth, down his chin, across his chest. Tara felt herself growing lighter, the painful pressure in her breasts finally subsiding as Selvam continued to drink.
When he finally pulled back, his lips glistened with milk, his expression one of pure satisfaction. “You taste incredible,” he said, his voice rough with desire.
Tara’s heart raced as she looked at him, this man who had just fed from her body. An idea formed in her mind, sudden and irresistible. She took his hand and led him toward the large bed that dominated the room.
“Come here,” she said softly, sitting on the edge of the mattress. She patted her lap, her eyes meeting his with unmistakable intent. “Lie down with me.”
Selvam hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly. “Tara...”
“Please,” she insisted, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I want to hold you. Like I hold Aryan.”
The request hung in the air between them, loaded with meaning. Selvam’s eyes darkened as he understood what she was asking. Slowly, he moved toward the bed, his movements deliberate as he positioned himself with his head in her lap.
Tara’s breath caught at the sight of him... this powerful man, reduced to vulnerability in her arms. She cradled his head against her breasts , her dark nipples hovering just above his lips. With deliberate slowness, she guided her right breast to his mouth, watching as his lips parted to receive her.
Selvam’s mouth closed around her nipple, and the sensation made Tara’s breath catch. His lips formed a perfect seal, his tongue working in slow, deliberate circles around the areola. The first pull sent a jolt of pleasure straight through her core, her back arching involuntarily as milk flooded into his mouth.
He drank with surprising hunger, his cheeks hollowing with each powerful suck. The sound filled the quiet bedroom... wet, rhythmic, primal. Tara’s fingers tightened in his hair, her body responding to the sight of this grown man feeding from her like a starving infant
“God,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You’re so good at that.
Selvam didn’t respond with words. Instead, his hands came up to cup her breasts, supporting their heavy weight as he continued to drink. His technique was perfect... alternating between gentle suction and firmer pulls, his tongue working constantly to stimulate her milk flow.
After a moment, he pulled back with a soft, wet pop. A strand of milk stretched between his lips and her nipple before breaking.
He moved immediately to her left breast, his mouth closing around her other nipple with the same hungry eagerness. The sensation was even more intense on the left side, which had been fuller.
Tara gasped as he suckled, her body responding to the rhythmic pulls with waves of pleasure that radiated outward from her core.
“That’s it,” she cooed, her voice dropping to the soft, melodic tone she used with Aryan. “Such a hungry boy. Drink it all up.”
Selvam responded to her words with a deep, greedy pull that made her moan. His hands continued to knead her breasts, working the milk down toward her nipples with practiced efficiency. After a few moments, he pulled back with a wet pop, a thin strand of milk stretching between his lips and her nipple before breaking.
“Taste this one again,” Tara said, guiding her right breast back to his mouth. “It’s fuller on this side, isn’t it? You can tell, can’t you? Such a smart boy.”
Selvam’s eyes darkened at her words, but he obeyed, his mouth closing around her right nipple once more. This time, he drank with even greater enthusiasm, his cheeks hollowing dramatically with each powerful suck. The sound was obscene in the quiet bedroom... wet, rhythmic, primal. Milk spilled from the corners of his mouth, running down his chin and onto his chest.
“Look at you,” Tara murmured, her fingers stroking through his hair. “So thirsty for mommy’s milk. Did you miss this? Is that what you’ve been craving?”
She watched, transfixed, as he continued to drink, his eyes half-closed in pleasure. The sight of this powerful, disciplined man reduced to such primal need sent heat flooding through her body. Her pussy was soaked now, the thin fabric of her thong clinging to her swollen lips.
After another minute, she gently pulled her nipple from his mouth with another wet pop. “Switch, baby,” she instructed, guiding his head to her left breast. “We need to empty both sides evenly. Don’t want one to get fuller than the other.”
Selvam moved to her left breast without hesitation, his mouth sealing around the nipple with the same hungry eagerness. Tara gasped at the sensation, her back arching as he began to suckle. His technique was perfect... alternating between gentle, teasing pulls and deeper, more demanding ones that drew the milk out in powerful streams.
“Good boy,” she whispered, her hand cradling the back of his head. “That’s how you do it. Just like that. You’re helping mommy so fast.”
She continued to talk to him as he drank, her words flowing in the same soothing stream she used with Aryan. “You’re doing so well, aren’t you? Such a natural. Look at how much you’ve taken already. Mommy’s breasts are getting lighter because of you.”
Selvam responded to her praise with a deep, satisfied groan, his hands tightening on her hips. The vibration of the sound against her sensitive nipple sent another wave of pleasure through her body.
“Time to switch again,” she said after a moment, gently pulling her nipple from his mouth with another wet pop. “Come back to this side. It’s getting full again.”
She guided him back to her right breast, watching as his lips closed around her nipple. The sensation was different now... less intense, more focused. The milk came easier, flowing freely into his mouth without the initial resistance. She could feel her breast growing lighter, the painful pressure finally subsiding completely.
“You’re emptying me so well,” she murmured, her voice dreamy with pleasure. “Better than the pump could ever do. Your mouth is perfect for this, isn’t it? Made for drinking mommy’s milk.”
She continued to alternate him between her breasts, switching whenever one side began to feel fuller than the other. Each time, she pulled her nipple from his mouth with that same wet pop, the sound becoming a rhythm that matched the beating of her heart. Each time, Selvam moved to the other breast with eager hunger, his mouth working with increasing efficiency as he learned her body’s responses.
“Look at you,” she said, her voice thick with admiration. “You’ve learned exactly how to do it. Just like Aryan, but better. Stronger. More... everything.”
The comparison sent a fresh wave of heat through her body. The thought of this grown man drinking from her with the same primal need as her infant son should have disgusted her, but instead, it only heightened her arousal. Her pussy was dripping now, the wetness soaking through her thong and onto the sheets beneath her.
After nearly twenty minutes, Tara felt a significant change. Her breasts, which had been painfully full just an hour ago, now felt light, empty, completely drained. She pulled Selvam’s head back gently, looking down at him with wonder.
“You did it,” she whispered. “You emptied me completely.”
Selvam’s lips were glistening with milk, his eyes dark with desire. A thin trail of white ran from the corner of his mouth down to his chin. He looked up at her, his expression a mixture of satisfaction and hunger.
“How do you feel?” he asked, his voice rough.
Tara took his hand and placed it on her right breast, guiding his fingers to explore the now-soft flesh. “Feel,” she said. “Completely empty. For the first time since Aryan was born.”
Selvam’s fingers moved over her breast with gentle reverence, feeling the difference. “No more pain?” he asked.
“No more pain!” she whispered.
“Only pleasure?” he asked.
Tara’s heart pounded against her ribs as she watched Selvam’s mouth work at her breast, his strong hands kneading her flesh with expert precision.
The pleasure was overwhelming, but something else was building inside her... a hunger that had nothing to do with milk. Summer’s photos flashed through her mind again... that thick, dark cock stretching those pale lips, the way Summer had looked up at the camera with such satisfaction.
She wanted that. Needed that.
Her hand drifted down from Selvam’s hair, trailing across his shoulder, down his arm. She let her fingers brush against the waistband of his shorts, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. The outline of his cock was unmistakable now... thick and hard, pressing against the thin fabric with obvious urgency.
“Uncle,” she whispered, her voice husky with desire. “You’ve been so good to me. Let me return the favor.”
Selvam’s eyes opened, meeting hers as he continued to suckle. Tara’s fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his shorts, her heart hammering against her ribs. The memory of why she’d invited him over hit her with sudden clarity... not just for the house, not just for the coffee, but for this. For him.
Her hand slid deeper, her fingers brushing against the hot, hard length of his cock. The skin was impossibly smooth, the shaft thick and veined beneath her touch. Selvam’s body went rigid, a low groan rumbling from his chest.
“Mommy,” he grunted against her breast, the word muffled but unmistakable.
Tara’s breath caught at the sound. Her fingers wrapped around his shaft, feeling the weight of it, the heat. It was exactly as Summer’s photos had shown... thick, heavy, the foreskin sliding back to reveal the plum-colored head already beading with pre-cum.
“You like that, don’t you?” she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You like when mommy touches you there?”
Selvam released her nipple with a wet pop, his breathing heavy. “Tara...”
“Don’t stop,” she insisted, her fingers tightening around his shaft. “Keep drinking. I want to feel you coming in my hand while you finish.”
She began to stroke him, her movements slow and deliberate. The foreskin slid back and forth over the sensitive head, the natural lubrication making her grip smooth and easy. Pre-cum beaded at the tip, coating her fingers as she worked him.
Selvam groaned, his mouth returning to her breast with renewed hunger. His sucking grew more intense, his tongue working in rapid circles around her areola. Tara’s hips began to rock unconsciously, her body responding to the dual sensation of his mouth on her breast and her hand on his cock.
“That’s it,” she murmured, her strokes increasing in speed. “Such a good boy,” Tara murmured, her voice dropping to that soft, maternal tone she used with Aryan. “Look at how much you’re enjoying mommy’s milk. Is it sweet? Does it taste good, baby?”
Selvam’s groan vibrated against her breast, his cock twitching in her hand. She smiled, tightening her grip, feeling the thick vein that ran along the underside pulse beneath her fingers.
“You’re so big,” she whispered, her eyes widening with genuine awe. “So much bigger than I expected. Is this what you’ve been hiding under those gym shorts, baby? This beautiful, thick cock?”
She began to stroke him more firmly, her palm sliding over the smooth skin, feeling the weight of him. Pre-cum leaked from the tip, making her movements slick and easy.
“Mommy’s going to take such good care of you,” she promised, her thumb circling the sensitive head. “You’ve been so good, emptying her breasts. Now it’s your turn to feel good.”
Tara shifted her position on the bed, pulling Selvam’s head closer to her chest as her other hand continued its steady rhythm on his cock. The contrast struck her... this powerful, disciplined man reduced to primal need in her arms.
“Look at you,” she cooed, her voice dropping to that soft, maternal tone she used with Aryan. “Such a big, strong boy with such a beautiful cock. Did mommy surprise you? Did you think she wouldn’t notice how hard you’ve been getting?”
Selvam groaned against her breast, his mouth working with renewed hunger. His hands gripped her thighs, fingers digging into her flesh as she stroked him.
“That’s it, baby,” she whispered, her thumb circling the sensitive head of his cock. “Let mommy take care of you. You’ve been so good, emptying mommy’s breasts. Now it’s time for your reward.”
“Mommy,” Selvam groaned, his voice dropping an octave as he thrust deeper. “It feels so good, Mommy.”
The word hung in the air between them, shocking and electric. Tara froze beneath him, her eyes widening. This wasn’t the composed, controlled man who’d entered her home thirty minutes ago. This was someone else entirely... someone primal, unleashed, begging.
“Say that again,” she whispered, her voice husky with desire.
“It feels so good, Mommy,” Selvam groaned again, his voice breaking on the words. His hips bucked against her hand, his cock pulsing with each stroke. “Don’t stop. Please, Mommy.”
Tara’s breath caught in her throat. The word transformed him completely... this powerful man reduced to begging, to vulnerability. She tightened her grip, watching his face contort with pleasure
“That’s right,” she whispered, her voice dropping to that soft, maternal tone. “Mommy’s here. Mommy’s going to make you feel so good.”
She increased her pace, her palm sliding smoothly over his shaft. The foreskin moved back and forth with each stroke, revealing the plum-colored head before covering it again. Pre-cum leaked steadily now, coating her fingers, making her movements slick and easy.
“Look at you,” she cooed, her free hand stroking through his hair.
“Such a big boy with such a beautiful cock. Does it feel good when mommy touches you there?”
Selvam’s hips jerked forward, his cock twitching in her grip. “Yes, Mommy,” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “So good.”
Tara smiled, a surge of power rushing through her. This was what she had wanted... this man, this moment, this complete surrender. She continued stroking him, watching his face contort with pleasure.
“Mommy wants to taste you,” she whispered, her voice dropping lower. “Would you like that, baby? Would you like mommy to put that beautiful cock in her mouth?”
Selvam’s eyes flew open, dark with desire. “Please,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Please, Mommy.”
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