Page 140 of Yearn
Here was a piece of her body I could command to change with nothing but my mouth.
The more I sucked, the more responsive she became, her nipple stiffening, darkening, straining against my hold as though begging to release.
Oh yes. One day milk will come and I will feast on her every fucking day.
Power surged through me.
I gave the other nipple everything—suction deep enough to ache, tongue strokes to mimic the rhythm of an infant, pressure at the areola to trick her body into responding.
Come on, Mommy. Feed me. I’m so hungry.
My balls responded, tightening, drawing up hard against my body. They already knew they’d be emptying into her soon and continued to fucking wait.
Yes, Mommy. Start making milk for your filthy boy. I want to drink and pump you with my cock at the same time.
The epididymis swelled.
The seminal vesicles contracted.
It was clinical, biological, inevitable.
She moaned, “Oh God. . .yes. . . right there. Don’t stop.”
Her other hand threaded into my hair. Her nails lightly scraped my scalp, urging me closer. “So filthy. I fucking love it.”
My Mommy is so horny right now.
Groaning, I latched down harder, sucking greedily at her nipple until she gasped and her fingers clenched.
“You’re so filthy, baby.” She rocked her hips and I knew that pussy was soaking for me. “Fuck. I might come just from your sucking.”
Her praise broke something inside me.
I growled low, the vibration humming against her breast.
“Oh. My Filthy Boy.”
Those words set off a rush of dopamine so sharp I almost came.
Fuck yeah. I love being your Filthy Boy.
I sucked more, deepening my latch the way every guide described—mouth sealed wide, lips flanged, tongue rolling over the base of her nipple to stimulate the ducts hidden beneath the areola.
Mimicking the rooting reflex, the suck-swallow pattern that triggered let-down.
Programming her body to obey me.
“That’s it, baby.”
Brutal lust vibrated through every cell.
“Keep sucking.”
Oh fuck! How did I get so lucky?
More pre-cum dripped slow and steady from the tip of my swollen cock, soaking my jeans. The wet heat seeped through, and it didn’t feel like a gentle leak. It was a steady excretion my body produced for only her—a more than normal amount of white fluid gathering at my cock’s slit and sliding down the length until the wet spot of my pants spread wider.
Never had I wet myself like this for any other woman that I’d been with.
