Page 64 of Dallas
“Should I open one of the books and read aloud from one of the sections you highlighted?”
She gasps. “No, Sir. Please don’t.” Her cheeks turn bright pink.
“Would you like to see what’s in the gift bag, baby?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”
I kiss her neck and whisper into her ear. “I think you do.” I trail my fingers down to her bottom and then lower until I can stroke through her folds. She’s soaked. If she weren’t, I wouldn’t pursue this. But she is, and she moans as I tease her wet opening.
When I pull my fingers away, I make a big production out of sucking them clean before reaching into the bag. “Consider it a wedding gift.”
“Whatever’s in that bag, I don’t think it’s a common wedding gift.”
I chuckle. “I bet it’s not very uncommon in my family.” I lift out the simple breast pump. It’s not the expensive kind we will need after she gives birth. For what I have in mind, we don’t need that kind of power. I just want enough suction for Arianna to experience the sensation of being milked.
She rocks backward.
I stop her with a swat to her bottom. “Stay on all fours, baby. The heroines in your books like to be pumped in this position.” I set the pump under her tits before standing between her spread legs so I can slide my palms up and cup her heavy breasts. If I’m not mistaken, the thought of me attaching this pump to her is making her breasts swell.
I squeeze the globes and pinch her nipples, tugging on them when she squirms.
“Dallas…” Her tone is breathy.
I lean over her back and nibble on her ear. “You’re curious.”
“I’m nervous. It’s so…filthy.”
“We’re kind of kinky, aren’t we?”
“Mostly you,” she mutters.
I laugh. “All I do is plant ideas. You’re the one who gets turned on every time I suggest something.”
“Dallas…”
I twist and pull on her nipples. “You want to know what it will feel like for me to milk you, Arianna. So curious that you bought books that made you horny.”
My girl moans loudly.
I squeeze her tits again, roughly this time. “Pretend these are filled with milk. Pretend I just fed our son a bottle and tucked him back into his crib without bringing him to your breast. Your tits are aching and full. You’re desperate to have your milk extracted. I’ve made you wait. I’ve been pumping them after every feeding for weeks, so they’re producing far more than necessary, which makes them doubly tight and hard when I don’t let you nurse.”
Arianna is panting. Her body is rocking back and forth as much as I’ll allow. After all, I’m between her legs. My hands are wrapped around her globes. She can do little besides rock her bottom against my chest.
Her reaction is so intense that I continue, “Do you know what will happen to your udders when they aren’t milked regularly?”
She’s breathing heavily as she shakes her head.
“Milk will start leaking out of them. You won’t be able to stop it. Sometimes, I’ll tie you to the headboard, legs wide, breasts hanging heavily, white cream dripping from your teats.” I’m pulling these extra filthy words from the hucow book she’s reading. It didn’t take me long to look it up and figure out what might turn her on.
“Oh, God…” She bucks her body, but I don’t give her much room.
I set my lips directly on her ear and whisper. “I’ll make you beg me to milk you, baby.”
She arches, a long groan escaping her lips.
“Do it,” I continue. “Ask me to milk your teats, Arianna.” I only planned the first part of this—arranging her on all fours before setting the gift next to her. I’m taking every cue from her now. She’s so horny she probably can’t focus.
“Please…” she murmurs.
