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Once he was gone for the day, I kicked back in my rocking chair while the baby slept and latched the pump onto my still-dripping nipple. The rhythmic sucking sent me into a trance. My eyes fluttered shut and I rode the swelling, cresting waves of pleasure as the milk was drawn from me. I should have finished up as fast as possible and started cleaning up the house, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop. I knew there were dishes in the sink and dust on the window blinds that needed cleaning, but fuck that.
“Yesssss,” I hissed into the cool, dark room as the hind milk started flowing, as it pressed against my nipples all thick and hot and creamy. I imagined a soft mouth latched on, the tongue swirling around my nipples as they told me how good it was, how hot it made them…
Buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz.
My phone went off, pulling me from my fantasy. It was a text from my husband. With shaky fingers, I grabbed my phone and swiped the screen to read it.
—Got you a present, baby. Should be there within the hour :)
A present? What was it? I wondered with a grin as I replied. For all his faults, my husband could be pretty thoughtful when he wanted to be.
—A present? What is it??? Tell me!
—No way. All I’ll say is it’s something you’ve wanted for a while. Talk soon!
I set the phone aside and padded across the room in bare feet, looking for something simple to throw on. If someone’s delivering a gift, I didn’t want to be undressed. I settled on a soft wrap dress. First, I pulled on my nursing bra and clasped the back. It was a soft cotton thing, more utilitarian than anything else, but there was something undeniably erotic about the little flaps you could pull down to expose the nipples. It was as fiddly and intricate as any strappy teddy… something my husband was wild about. If only he liked my nursing bra and its creamy payload as much.
I stood in front of the mirror as I dressed, watching as my big, milky tits disappeared beneath the stretchy cloth. Despite their huge size, they were remarkably buoyant. They stood off my chest beautifully, their swell straining against the cloth so hard I could perfectly see the outline of my nipples. I turned back and forth, admiring the way they poked out all long and hard, how they stood out like bonbons beneath my dress. How my husband could resist them, I’d never know.
An hour passed and I heard a knock at the door. I rushed to answer it, anxious for the special gift my husband had gotten me. I peeked out the side window and saw a young woman standing on our porch. She was petite and curvy with long blond hair down to her ass. She wore her hair in a loose braid that swayed as she stood patiently on the doormat.
Who could that be? I thought as I made my way toward the foyer. She wasn’t carrying any packages or anything. She didn’t look like a delivery person. Maybe she’s lost?
The girl smiled wide as I opened the door. She was wearing a little black dress and sensible shoes, the sort of thing a maid might wear.
“Are you Rochelle La Porte?” asked the girl in a velvety voice. Her eyes were bright blue, flecked with gray.
“Yes… who are you?” Curiosity grabbed hold of me. There was something about the girl. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Her smile flickered and then returned. She seemed confused that I didn’t know who she was.
“My name is Cammy,” the girl smiled wide again and stepped forward, holding out her hand. “I’m the new maid."
II. The Maid
“What do you think of her?” Max asked as he cut his steak. A grin was plastered on his face.
“She’s nice. Seems like a hard worker,” I replied as I pushed my salad around my plate. She did seem nice and she did seem like a hard worker, I just never pictured myself as the type to have a maid. It felt strange having a stranger picking up after me and my family. Still, it was a load off my mind. I was often too exhausted to really clean up after a long day of caring for the baby.
“Well, good. You work so hard, I thought you deserved a little help.”
We ate in silence for a little while, which wasn’t uncommon. Max often sat brooding about work as we ate. I reached over and squeezed his hand.
“Thanks for thinking of me,” I said with a smile. It really was very thoughtful of him.
The day had passed pretty uneventfully. The girl, Cammy, scrubbed and dusted and tidied all day while I took a much-needed bath and watched over the baby. Around mid-afternoon, I settled in to nurse while the girl put away laundry. I settled in and started pumping when the girl came in with an armload of clean cotton nappies.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she said when she saw my huge tits out on display. The one that wasn’t being pumped was dripping like crazy, making a big, creamy wet spot on my lap. She blushed prettily, her soft cheeks glowing bright red. “I didn’t know you were pumping.”
“It’s okay,” I assured her with a laugh as I switched the pump to the other side. It took a second to latch on, but when it did I let out a groan of satisfaction. “I’m almost always pumping.”
She opened the drawer and tucked the clean nappies inside. Her eyes met mine in the reflection of the mirror hanging above the dresser, and I saw her gaze flick down to my breasts before darting away. She was curious, which was only natural… but it sent a strange shooter of pleasure straight to my pussy just having her eyes on me, watching me.
“Doesn’t the baby nurse?” she asked softly as she turned toward me. She tried to look nonchalant, but I could see the discomfort she was feeling in her tense stance. “I mean, it’s none of my business…”
“No, he doesn’t. It happens sometimes. Certain babies just aren’t nursers.”
The pump’s whirring motor filled the quiet as the girl watched, her eyes moving all over my huge, milky tits. I pressed my arms closer to my body, squeezing my tits together to show the deep, silky cleavage between them. I don’t know why I did it, it was just an impulse. The girl’s heart quickened; I could see it in the pulse at the base of her long, slender neck.
“It’s so fascinating,” said the girl with a sense of awe in her voice. She bit her lip as she watched the pump pulling an endless stream of milk into the bottle. “Seems like it would feel really good…”
