Page 19 of Milky

We opt not to have verbal vows, as that is some bullshit for Herb. He’s a vacuum, obviously he can’t talk.

Instead, we stare longingly while the harp is played, and we mind melt like in Star Trek. It feels right, and it gets my privates tingling, so I roll with it.

Then after a few minutes, we’re wearing rings and kissing, and Herb’s obviously still just sitting there. We pat him though and he will eat me out later.

I look around the bookstore, shelves upon shelves of stories, rejected by some, adored by others. Such a mix, and that’s how I’d define our relationship. It’s either weird or it’s pure, and is there anything wrong with doing what makes you feel good? We aren’t hurting anyone. Herb loves us back. What else would he do?

Sit in a fucking garage and get covered in spider sacks and deflated sports balls and random, half drank water bottles? Hmm?

I’m giving him my pussy and my milk, and if he has a soul, obviously its happier with me. If he has energy, a presence, a space in the universe as a manufactured item—I’d like to believe he’s better off sucking my husbands cock and licking up his cum than cleaning a shitty gutter and vacuuming vomit in a toddler’s room.

This is truly the perfect place for us to have met and marry.

“Did Story leave?” he whispers, ready to fuck. I want that too. I can’t wait. My breasts are swollen with the need to be drained. I’m at the point where I make milk on demand for his whimpers, so I overly produce.

“Yes,” I tell him. “The bookstore is all ours for tonight.” On the wall, I turn off the lights and step on a switch on the floor, turning on the Christmas lights strewn over the shelves. The room is glaringly bright but Amazon was out of twinkle lights.

“Get naked,” he says, already completely nude.

12

Chip

I lay her down, spread her legs, and bring Herb’s mouth to her pussy. Sinking my palm into her groin with my opposite hand, I let Herb do his thing.

Listening to her scream and watching her squirm for us is so incredibly arousing. I really don’t want to end thingsprematurely tonight, but I’m sweaty in a lot of places and have been “holding it” for a while already. She just does that to me.

I press my cock between her thigh and Herb’s tube, sliding in and out of my personal heaven. Leche screams as Herb pleasures her, and I think it means more to her tonight after almost losing him. Because I’m only a few thrusts in and she’s already unraveling, her legs shaking, toes curling.

“Are you coming for our guy already?” I ask with a groan, eyeing her swollen lips and hungry little hole. Her clit is being demolished but everything else is… neglected.

A terrible, delicious, perfect idea hits. “We’re gonna take you over the edge together,” I tell her, sinking my cock deep inside her. Her eyes pop open as I sink in to the hilt, Herb’s eager mouth still humming on her clit.

“My guys,” she whispers through a moan. “Yes, make me cum, please, boys, please,” she moans, taking her breasts in her palms. Her head falls back as her cunt spasms around my cock, milking me for a change, sending me into instant orgasm.

She comes all around me, and I come in hot ripples inside of her, filling her with my cum. I’ve never experienced a real life cream pie. Sure, I’ve masturbated to one on my phone with the shower running while my mom made spaghetti in the next room, and I’ve woken up to messy sheets after dreaming about one, and I’ve even paid a cam girl $347 dollars (plus transaction fees!) to have her describe what one feels like.

But living one.

I shake my head, letting out a low whistle as I look past Herb’s mouth to where I’m inside Leche.

The trunk of my cock jerks with each rope of cum that pulses out of me, flooding her. “Leche,” I breathe, “this is where I’m meant to be. Right here, dumping my hot loads of cum inside your womb.”

She nods. “Exactly what I was gonna say.”

I smile, pulling Herb off of her when she grows too sensitive. He never knows when to quit. Bit of a sadist if you ask me.

“Thank you for marrying us,” she says, out of breath from her big cum session. Why don’t people call it that? It’s really what it is. A cum sesh. Sounds better than fuck fest in my opinion. She lowers Herb to the floor and sits up, coasting her palm tenderly along my cheek. “What are you thinking about?”

“Just… why do we call sex a fuck fest and not a cum sesh?” I stare into her eyes, finding our connection in the ways hers glitter.

“You’re so smart,” she says. “I’m so glad I fell in love with someone who checks all the boxes.”

I grab my clothes and hers, and we redress as Herb just sits there. He’s the strong, silent type, you know?

“What were your boxes?” I ask her as I slip into my favorite comfortable pair of overalls. I’m so glad I have all my clothes to our place. Both boxes were delivered today. I tipped the guy $2. We brought a bag of overnight clothes to the ceremony because we’re planners.

“Loves to drink my milk straight from the tap,” she says, pretending to check a box in the air. “Super good with fashion,” she says, eyeing my overalls. Stepping toward me, she unhooks one of the straps and tosses it over my shoulder. “Perfect.” I can’t help but grin. “And loves Herb.”

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