continued, putting out his cigarette.
A reason? I almost rolled my eyes.
“A few years ago, when I was starting my
business, I worked myself to the bone. I was
constantly entertaining clients, drinking way
too much.
دو
He glanced at my covered chest and licked
his lips.
I instinctively clutched my cardigan, grateful
for its coverage. But my hand brushed
against my nipple, sending a jolt of
awareness through me.
I tried to remain composed, but my blush
betrayed me.
He noticed, but didn’t comment, earning him
another point in my book.
“It wrecked my stomach. I’ve seen countless
doctors, but nothing seems to help.”
He sighed. “Then, a holistic doctor suggested
breast milk. Apparently, it contains
compounds that can heal the gut.
وو
He looked at me pleadingly. “Sarah, please.
Just think of it as medicine. Help me.
وو
His expression was pained, and I hesitated.
I didn’t want to cheat on David, to risk my
marriage, my family.
<
“Sarah, I promise, I won’t make any
advances. Yesterday won’t happen again. I
just want to get better. My stomach has been
killing me. Just take pity on me.”
“I’ll compensate you generously. $300, or
more if you’d like.”
His vulnerability was disarming. I wavered,
then gave in.
“Okay,” I said softly. “But you can’t… touch
me.”
He frowned. “How am I supposed to drink
it?”
“I’ll pump into a bottle. You can warm it up,” I
mumbled, avoiding his gaze.
The thought of a grown man drinking my milk
was strange.
But the thought of this man drinking my milk
sent a thrill through me.
Seeing my resolve, he nodded. “Alright. Could you pump a lot, please?”
L
sent a thrill through me.
Seeing my resolve, he nodded. “Alright. Could
you pump a lot, please?”
His eyes remained fixed on my chest.
Each look sent shivers down my spine.
His gaze was predatory, reminding me of a
hungry wolf.
I squeezed my legs together, the familiar
warmth spreading through me. My mind
flashed back to yesterday, to his touch, his
mouth…
For the next few days, I pumped into a glass
bottle, and Mr. Smith drank it warm. I’d pump
extra and store it in the fridge for his
nighttime stomach pains.
He kept his word, behaving like a perfect
gentleman. He even turned away while I
pumped.
I relaxed, no longer feeling the need to dress
so conservatively.
L
I thought things would continue like this.
Breastfeeding limited my wardrobe options,
and most of my nursing tops were quite
revealing. That morning, faced with a pile of
milk–stained clothes, I opted for a thin
camisole.
Since I couldn’t wear a bra, my nipples were
quite prominent.
“Oh well,” I thought, “maybe he won’t be
home today.”
I arrived, fed the baby, and pumped, all
without seeing Mr. Smith. Just as I felt a pang
of disappointment, he walked in, slightly
drunk.
His eyes locked on my chest, a smirk playing
on his lips.
The same look, the same smirk as that first
day…
My heart leaped into my throat, nearly
dropping the bottle.
<
Saran, yoU TOOK Deautiful,
ne murmurea, mis
gaze lingering on my exposed cleavage. He
licked his lips.
I quickly pulled my top down, regretting
sending the nanny home.
“Mr. Smith, have you been drinking? I just
pumped a fresh bottle. Why don’t you have
some and rest?” I was less nervous around
him now, but his lustful gaze still unnerved
- me.
“I want to feel your softness, experience your
warmth,” he whispered, sitting beside me.
The scent of wine and cologne filled the air,
intoxicating me.
“Mr. Smith, you promised…” I reminded him.
He leaned closer, his warm breath on my
neck. “I know you want this too, Sarah. And I
want you. Trust me, I’m not like other men.”
His arms wrapped around my waist, and I
melted into his embrace.
It had been
It had been so long… I gasped, my breasts heaving.
I struggled to find my voice.
“Mr. Smith, the baby’s asleep, the milk is ready… I should go.”
I tried to stand, but he pulled me onto his lap. “Stay. Let me hold you. I truly care for you. Just give me this…”
I didn’t resist, settling into his embrace,
craving his warmth and closeness.
I forgot about shame, about David, about
everything.
He rested his chin on my shoulder, his eyes
fixed on my cleavage.
I closed my eyes, whispering, “Mr. Smith,
you…”
“Don’t be shy, Sarah. This is your most
beautiful part. Don’t hide it.”
He nibbled my ear, his tongue tracing its
delicate curves. A wave of pleasure washed
over me, a feeling I hadn’t experienced in so
long.
I surrendered, lost in the moment…
Afterward, guilt consumed me.
Three years of dating, two years of marriage,
and I’d succumbed to temptation.
Every time I looked at David, I felt a pang of
remorse. I tried to make it up to him,
showering him with affection.
But seeing Mr. Smith during the day still
stirred my desire..
Caught in this cycle of guilt and lust, our
affair continued.
