Daddy's Only: Milk & Nipple Bliss

The rain hammered against the windows of the guest bedroom, a relentless rhythm that mirrored the frantic beat of my heart. Mark was already there, perched on the edge of the bed, his dark eyes burning into me with an intensity that both thrilled and terrified. We’d been at this for months, this strange, messy, utterly consuming exploration of our primal instincts. Breastfeeding, it turned out, wasn’t just about nourishment; it was about connection, vulnerability, and a raw, animalistic desire that we both seemed desperate to indulge.

Tonight, the anticipation hung thick in the air, scented with the lingering warmth of our previous encounter. My breasts felt heavy, swollen, and exquisitely sensitive, a constant reminder of the pleasure we’d shared. I’d spent the last hour meticulously applying a generous layer of coconut oil, letting it soak into my skin, enhancing the texture and making my nipples even more enticing. It felt like an offering, a deliberate invitation to the man who held me captive with his gaze.

“My boobies are swollen only for you,” I whispered, my voice a husky rasp, as I shifted closer to him. “My pink nipples are only for daddy Mark to see and suck on.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them, fueled by a potent mix of lust and nervousness. I knew he was already on edge, his body coiled tight, ready to unleash the pent-up energy that had been building between us.

His reaction was immediate and overwhelming. The first suckle was tentative, a hesitant exploration, but it quickly escalated into a full-blown assault. His grip tightened, his jaw clenched, and the raw power in his muscles became palpable. As he dug deeper, my body began to tremble, a delicious shiver that radiated from my core to my extremities. I moaned, a primal sound of pleasure that echoed in the small room, and he responded in kind, a guttural rumble that vibrated through my very being.

His cock, previously firm and rigid, began to swell, taking on a deeper shade of purple as he pushed harder, his focus entirely consumed by my nipples. The sensation was exquisite, a burning, tingling pleasure that threatened to overwhelm me. My pussy, too, began to respond, throbbing with anticipation, slick with a warm, milky fluid. The sight of it, glistening in the dim light, sent a fresh wave of heat through me.

As he continued his relentless assault, I instinctively began to run my hands through his hair, pulling at the strands, feeling the coarse texture against my fingertips. It was a grounding act, a way to maintain control amidst the chaos of my own arousal. I desperately wanted him inside of me, craved his warmth, his power, his touch. I could feel his desire mirroring my own, a silent acknowledgment of the intense connection we shared.

Finally, he rose from the bed, pulling me up with him, positioning himself between my legs. He leaned back, giving me a full view of my pussy, a silent challenge, an unspoken invitation. The air crackled with electricity, the tension almost unbearable.

“This pussy is just for you too—only Mark can touch it and squeeze and kiss and lick on it,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, my lips parted in anticipation. It was a declaration, a reminder of the exclusivity of our shared experience.

Without hesitation, he launched himself at me, a blur of motion and raw desire. His thrusts were frantic, relentless, fueled by an insatiable hunger. I screamed, a primal cry of pleasure that ripped through the silence of the room. The heat built, intensifying with each penetration, pushing me closer and closer to the brink. I clung to the sheets, digging my nails into the fabric, desperate to maintain some semblance of control.

“This is Mark’s pussy,” I moaned, my voice choked with ecstasy, as I clung to him, my body arched in submission. The feeling of his cock slamming into my pussy was overwhelming, a torrent of sensation that left me breathless and gasping. It was exquisite agony, a perfect blend of pleasure and pain.

As I neared climax, I felt a sudden letdown, a sharp dip in sensation that threatened to break the spell. Milk began to squirt from my nipples, a sticky, warm deluge that coated my chest. Mark, sensing my distress, quickened his pace, his movements becoming even more aggressive, determined to push me past the point of no return. We climaxed simultaneously, a violent eruption of pleasure that left us both shaking and breathless.

The aftermath was a tangled mess of limbs and sheets, a testament to the raw, unbridled passion that had consumed us. Mark lay spooning me, catching his breath, his body rigid with exhaustion. I propped myself up on one elbow, gazing down at his throbbing cock, still slick with milk. It was a powerful image, a symbol of the dominance and submission that characterized our relationship.

We spent the next few hours lost in a hazy, post-coital stupor, drifting in and out of consciousness. Eventually, we rose to shower together, the warm water washing away the sweat and the lingering scent of arousal. The steam filled the small bathroom, creating an intimate atmosphere that only amplified our desires.

As we stood beneath the shower, the water cascading over our bodies, I felt a familiar surge of lust building within me. The rain continued to beat against the windows, but I barely noticed. My thoughts were consumed by Mark, by the intoxicating pleasure of our shared experience. I wanted him, needed him, craved his touch.

It was then, as I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the wet mirror, that I realized something profound: breastfeeding wasn’t just a physical act; it was a form of worship, a way of expressing my devotion to the man who held me captive in his arms. And as I leaned in to kiss him, savoring the taste of his lips, I knew that this strange, messy, utterly consuming exploration of our primal instincts was just the beginning. The thought sent shivers of anticipation down my spine, and I couldn't wait to see what we would discover next. The rain kept falling, a constant reminder of the wild, untamed desires that bound us together, and I smiled, knowing that this was just the start of something truly extraordinary.

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