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“Would you mind coming in for a minute?” I asked. “I have a question for you about my order.”“Of course you do.” He smiled and I closed the door behind him.He put the bottles and paper bag on the kitchen table. I put the bottles in the refrigerator and kept my back to him long enough for him to appreciate the view. My hair was tied in a ponytail. I have nice shoulders and my low dress back showed just the top of the tattoo I have there. The backs of my stockings had little poodles on them at the top of the calf. My husband had bought them for me. I wondered if the sight of me pleased the milk man. I wondered if he’d noticed that I’d taken care to match the style and era of his truck and his outfit.I closed the refrigerator and turned back to him.“So what can I help you with, miss?”I looked him over. I looked him over again. I thought about the cream and butter he’d brought me and I got that feeling I get.“I have to say, I’m really happy with your quality.”Did he know I wasn’t talking. My wife asha posing with her milky boobs to three of usBy then that boy had come back and was standing nearby her, or watching her, agape. And as he did the pressing around the breast, in no moment drops of milk appeared on the nipple, then suddenly it gushed forward in a jet and drenched that open-mouthed boy’s face, who, on the spur of moment, pulled out his eager tongue to grasp the lactic rain over it, while my lactating wife was hissing in pleasure, tinged with a relief.Seeing the boy’s eagerness for asha’s breast-milk, I asked mushtaq, Kaka, don’t waste her milk, let him straightway suck milk from her breasts my words entitled them. And next moment, Kaka made my wife lie down on the floor on her back, and they seated on her both sides, and simply shared my wife’s pair of milk-oozing breasts between themselves, one each, while I kept onlooking.My aroused wife was heaving, moaning and sighing in pleasure; she looked elated as she was not breast-feeding two stranger hungry mouths.
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