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CHAPTER 5
Eli
My cock is as hard as the steel bars on the milking stalls in the dairy barn.
Watching her dance in that field had me cataloging every movement and translating it to how she would feel under my massive body, dancing a different sort of dance.
The muscles in my cheeks grind to life as I smile. Something I rarely do but when it’s happened, it’s always with Ruby. But, tonight, I’m smiling for a different reason.
A devious one. The devil in me has risen and I no longer care about praying him away.
Ruby is inside the front door before I’m out of my truck and I know why. Her tits must be painful by now. She skipped her second pumping earlier and even if she’d taken the time, she would have found out my secret.
I follow through the front door of the crooked farmhouse that we call home. She makes it a home, I should say. It’s not the wood or the fireplace or the quilts or the canned tomatoes on the shelves.
It’s Ruby. Her light and life have saved me and created a life I never imagined possible. She never looks at me like I’m a freak. She looks up to me and asks me for help and advice like I’m a scholar or some guru.
Being a father was never in my plan. Or having a woman. But with her, I want both and the shame and sin of it all has kept me bound in its chains for too long.
She doesn’t think I’m strange for sewing and cooking and refusing to capitulate to the norms of society. She believes in me and the idea of anyone else ever touching her sends jagged blades into my heart.
I have lived according to my own set of rules, why should that stop when it comes to Ruby? My most precious possession.
And that is what she is. My possession.
I pull the tea kettle to the sink, filling it and clicking on the gas burner, watching the blue flame burst to life.
I’ve made tea and cookies for Ruby for years. What she doesn’t know is since I found out about her making milk, my obsession has turned into near psychosis.
I think about it day and night. I wonder if her breasts are warm. If her nipples tingle and if she ever drinks from herself.
I battle back the groan that feels like rusty nails scraping up my throat.
Milk.
Milk.
Milk.
Her full, creamy breasts beckon to me and tonight, I take what’s mine.
“Uncle Eli!” she calls, right on cue.
“Yes?” I answer, lowering the kettle onto the burner, taking a scoop of the special tea I’ve blended into the infuser and lowering it into an empty porcelain cup.
“There is a little problem.” She emerges from the hallway that leads to our bedrooms with the little pink and white machine in one hand and the tubes and bottles in the other, her blouse open down to her navel as the creamy flesh of her tits billows out.
“What’s the problem?” I ask, trying to hide the lie in my voice.
I know exactly what’s wrong. The pump’s motor burned out due to me zapping it with a blowtorch earlier today.
“It won’t turn on.” Her little voice cracks and I know she’s uncomfortable and I should be sorry, but sometimes there is pain before pleasure.
“Let me see.” I take the machine from her and set it on the counter, opening the back, pretending to inspect the insides as I shake my head. “Motor is fried.”
“So…” Her fingers twiddle over the top flesh of her chest. “You can’t fix it?” Her voice trembles as I shake my head and she looks to me for help. “But, I’m hurting, what do I do? Use my hands? That will take forever and they hurt, Uncle Eli.”
There’s pleading in her voice and a stab of guilt stings in my gut, but I quickly override it as my cock leaks against the front of my jeans.
“No, squeezing will only take a small amount of milk out.” I clear my throat. “Come here. I know you are hurting, I can see it in your eyes. I will help, but there’s only one way.”
I should stop this now. Reason clashes with lust inside my chest as the little girl I raised into a young woman stands in front of me, looking for help.
Am I such a bastard that not only have I been feeding her my homemade lactation cookies and tea brewed with my special blend of fenugreek, fennel, anise, coriander, and blessed thistle, but I’ve broken her breast pump so that she will have no choice but to let me suckle her and then, oh then, I know her sweet, dripping pussy will be mine.
A father shouldn’t want these things. She may not be my niece by blood, but I’ve been the only father in her life and now, all I want to do is hold her down on the kitchen table with a mouth full of milky tit while I rail into her raw, with every inch of my greedy dick.
