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Amber was winding up another long day. Utility clients were so much work; the code was so old and she had to review it line by line. Not the most exciting work she ever did, but the pay was great and the contract was long and open-ended – just what an IT consultant looked for in a client, she smiled.
At 43, she was the oldest in the entire IT department. She had been hired for her knowledge of ancient languages – COBAL, Basic – more than her ability to write for newer platforms. Amber had gotten into computers when she was just nine – long before programmers made six-figure salaries, long before computers were cool. It was precisely this “ancient” knowledge for which she was so well-paid today.
Something caught her eye; there was a strange recurring pattern going on here that made no sense. It was not a redundancy of any sort – the pattern was the same, but the code had no operational function. It was like ….an envelope within the code lines. The opening and closing was the same – the pattern she had noticed – but the “contents” between were different. It looked cryptographic … but that made no sense in the middle of a customer database. Curious, Amber pulled out a CD with some cryptographic algorithms she used sometimes for secure communications with clients. Since Don, the CIO, was the only one with access to this code, Amber thought she may have discovered some communications he may have had with a previous consultant.
It took all of 10 seconds of number-crunching to break the code. As she read, she realized she was going far beyond the bounds of her consulting contract. “This is Don’s diary”, Amber thought. Reading further, Amber began to blush… “My eyes can’t leave her swaying hips… she knows I am watching and loves it”….”She wants me to fuck her full breasts… she knows she is giving me a look at her huge tits every time she comes in to ask a question”… “the idea of jacking off in my private bathroom while she waits for me is exciting”…..
Beginning to feel like he had written this about her, Amber checked the exact time and date the entries were made – hmmm… over a year ago. Ahhhh, so “she” wasn’t her….Who was it, then? Who was it that had him so hot? What woman had him so enthralled, so distracted that he had to record his feelings?
“If I could just find someone like her, I’d spend everything I had – every hour, every dime, every waking moment on her….thinking of her, pleasing her, pleasing me….” “Soooo… she isn’t real”, Amber thought. “This perfect woman of his is a fantasy character, a figment of his imagination.”
Of course it was. No woman was that perfect for ANY guy. One day he would wake up and smell the coffee. They always did. “Too bad Jenny Thompson is still married to that jerk. She’s the one – she would have been perfect” …. It must have been his high school reunion; yes, he was 38. He probably saw her at a reunion and ….
“I know she’s out there – I just need to get specific about what I am looking for. What did that corporate coach say? (Amber chuckled “Corporate coach…this guy makes waaaaaay too much money”) ‘Visualize it – Expect it – Welcome it.'” Amber shifted in her seat, stifling a grin.
The next entry was a ….a project proposal? “Fantasy affair”. The idea of couching a fantasy in engineering terms seemed so…..cold. Something, however, was oddly arousing about approaching such a personal matter in such an organized way. “It’s weird”, Amber thought, “but I understand it…..probably why I have such a hard time with the whole “feelings” thing.
His fantasy was simple: an affair with a co-worker Of course it had to be the perfect affair (he was a computer guy) – one no one would suspect, one in which there was no “losing party”, as he so artfully put it. “Parameters – (1) Mutually and equally vulnerable” (2) “Mutually critical needs for discretion” (“My god, he even writes his fantasies like an engineer”, Amber mused). “Necessary Tools”, “Budget Resources”, “Level 2 and Level 3 expectations” (“Please don’t tell me he wrote a mission statement”, she cringed). A romantic geek….
Don’s necessary tools included lavishly expensive lingerie – no choices from Victoria’s Secret. “House of Dior”. Mmmm, Amber thought, now those are MY kind of tools. Amber loved lingerie. Maybe it was the dry nature of her work that made her so conscious of what she wore that no one else ever saw. But Dior…..their silks were mere wisps. Just thinking about such delicacies (they were tactile delicacies) brushing her skin made her flush a bit and do a bit of fantasizing of her own.
What if I started doing some of these things?, she thought. Would he even notice? He said he would….
That evening on her way home from work, Amber stopped for some Italian take-out. Although she ate alone regularly, there was still something about sitting down in a nice restaurant alone that seemed more than just … by herself. Walking out the door with her penne pesto in one hand, tricky masseur porno the lingerie specialty store across the street caught her eye. “Exactly where ‘she’ would shop”, Amber thought.
Dinner and two glasses of red wine later, Amber’s thoughts returned to her discovery. Lounging in her robe after her bath, she began to wonder what Don was doing tonight. Her thoughts wandered to what he would be doing if he were with his ….his….what should she call her? Maybe she should name her. What is the perfect name for the perfect woman in a perfect affair? She took a large swallow of glass number three, holding it in her mouth while she thought. She began to notice the way the taste of the wine changed as it warmed in her mouth. She sensed the velvet texture of the garnet-colored liquid lolling on her tongue. As she reclined on the couch, she did a sense-check, noticing the golden glow of the candlelight, the gauzy sounds of Sade, the warm yeasty aroma of the breadsticks, the finish of the pinot noir she had just savored, and the light/heaviness of her silk-lined terry robe. She observed the pale flesh of her thigh where the folds of the heather gray robe parted….She was …at this very moment, lusciously ready to be picked. Loosening the sash, she let her fingers explore her full breasts.
She was overdue for expression, she knew. The warmth of her shower merely relaxed her, brought her milk down easier. Her brown nipples were relaxed. Her hands moved easily over her skin, enjoying the silky touch she gave herself twice a day. Sitting up a bit, Amber began the slow, rhythmic stroking of her left breast, rolling the fullness down to her nipples. She loved the weight of her breasts when they were so full…Mmmmmm.
A spray of milk surprised her with its volume and distance, droplets falling to her robe and thigh. Wow, she thought, it is really coming in. Reaching for the clean wine glass reserved for this purpose, she began to express her milk into it. Creamy droplets, yes, but also a surprising amount. Her nipple hardened with the continued gentle attention it received. Looking down as she massaged, she felt a true surge of pride as she beheld her breasts. They were full and lovely, the slight tracings of the blue veins on her pale skin complementing the rich brownness of her aureolae. Each nipple was distended and firm.
Setting the glass aside for a moment, Amber considered her reasons for inducing lactation at her age. It was a crazy idea that came out of the blue one day at work….
Marcy Young, a junior-level programmer in her section, had just returned to work after the birth of her twin boys. Marcy had decided to continue breastfeeding the boys; as a result, she found it necessary to express herself three times a day at work. The men knew there could be no joking or teasing; none wanted a sexual harassment complaint in their file. The women who had children treated it as if Marcy was merely picking up a loaf of bread at the supermarket, discussing their own experiences with a surprising openness. Amber had been … what was it? … cautiously curious. Marcy’s ordinarily C-cupped bust had expanded to at least a double D. Her slim figure had returned just 8 weeks after the birth (“that lucky bitch” her female coworkers had all laughed), but her breasts retained their fullness. Marcy tried to be discreet, retiring to a stall for the pumping. Soon, it had become so ordinary that the quiet drone of the battery-operated breast pumps was almost like Muzak in the women’s restroom.
One afternoon as she walked in the restroom, Amber was startled to find Marcy standing in front of the mirror with her blouse open. The breast pump sat silently on the vanity top next to an empty container, like the three other full ones in the break room refrigerator . Marcy was holding her left breast in her left palm as she rhythmically….hmmm… “carressed” is not the right word, but “squeezed” sounds like orange juice…..molded her upper breast toward her nipple.
“oh….oh, I’m sorry, Marcy. I did not mean to….to….”
“No big deal, Amber. I am the one who should apologize. The damn batteries went dead. If it didn’t hurt so much if I don’t express, I would have just waited until I left for the day. I hope I haven’t embarassed you.”
“Embarassed me? Oh, no – I am totally cool with ..ummmm….it.” I said. At the same time, I could feel the color shooting into my cheeks and the flush of …embarassment and…..something else?…spreading down my neck to my upper chest.
“Thanks, Amber.” Marcy’s left hand moved to pick up the container as she lightly took her scarlet hued nipple between her right thumb and fingertips. A cream-colored pearl appeared and fell into the waiting vessel. She began a rhythmic stroking and pulling as spray after spray of milk squrted into the bottle. Amber was fascinated by the fullness of Marcy’s breasts, the size of her crinkled türbanlı porno aureoleae, the plump length of her firm nipple….
Amber realized she had been staring, and quickly turned away, murmuring another soft apology. Marcy smiled and quietly said “Amber, it’s OK. Really. I don’t mind. It’s kinda cool, isn’t it? I mean, all our adult lives, guys have been hungry for a look or feel. Now, it’s like the have taken on a whole new purpose. I never really thought about nursing or milk before the boys, but I love it. So does Jack.”
“Really?” I had met Jack at the baby shower; he seemed like a regular kind of guy. Marcy continued to milk her left breast while talking, in the same way a person might peel a potato while conversing with a friend.
“Oh yeah – he loves it. I have to remind him sometimes to leave some for the boys”, Marcy said with a grin. “I like it, too. My nipples have become so much more sensitive since I got pregnant. At first, I was embarassed, but I talked with a few of my friends and some had the same experience. It’s crazy, but I’ve even gotten where I enjoy the pump.” Her conversation rattled on like we were standing in line at the cafeteria downstairs.
Setting down the bottle, Marcy lifted her left breast into her bra and released the right without missing a beat. She began a firm massage – ah ha!…THAT was the right word…..of the full roundness until a bead of milk appeared. tweaking her nipple, Marcy produced a large spray which she caught in the half-full bottle. “Wow, I was sure ready! I think I’m gonna need the other bottle. Could you get it out of my purse, Amber?”
“Surely – what’s a friend for?” I laughed somewhat nervously. As I rummaged through the small suitcase Marcy had started carrying, I fumbled across a long, slender silver…..vibrator???…. which was stuck inside the bottle I was looking for. Pulling the bottle out, the silver cylinder hit the floor with a loud clink.
“Ooops, sorry”, we both said simultaneously. We each laughed as I picked up the vibrator and hid it in her purse. Now it was Marcy who was blushing.
“I…ummm…well, like I was saying, my nipples have gotten so sensitive that I sometimes get…well, you know….let’s just say I need a little relief. The pump in one hand and BOB in the other”, Marcy shyly grinned.
“Bob? Who’s Bob? I thought his name was Jack.” Confusion clouded Amber’s face.
Now Marcy was the one laughing. “BOB. B-O-B. Battery Operated Boyfriend.” As she moved to switch bottles, Amber lifted the empty one, prepared to take the full one. A few drops fell on the back of Amber’s hand as Marcy released the brimming bottle to take the other. Amber froze, staring at the cream-colored wetness on the back of her hand.
“Go on. It’s OK – you can taste it”, Marcy whispered softly. “It feels weird to say, but I love the taste, actually. So does Jack. I like the level of intimacy I feel when I share it.” Amber looked at her now-trembling hand and raised it slowly. Her tongue darted out quickly and touched the four heavy drops. A hint of cream, a sweet richness teased her tastebuds. Amber suddenly became aware of her tingling clit and soaked panties. A full bladder also reminded her of why she had come in the first place.
“Umm….I ….uhhh…I need to …. I’ll go to another floor….let you have some privacy.” Amber dashed out, hearing Marcy’s apologies behind her. Quickly finding the staircase, Amber fairly flew up the stairs to the executive floor and quickly ducked into the “ladies room”. Smiling at the irony of a “ladies room” on a floor populated mostly by men, she opened the carved, full length wooden door to one of the stalls – though it was more like a nice closet. Panties hit the floor quickly – a silent sigh of thanks that she wore sockings instead of pantyhose. After she finished, Amber again noted her swollen clit and wet lips. She couldn’t shake the image of Marcy’s milk-filled breasts, the taste of the breast milk, Marcy’s obvious enjoyment… Only a deadline interrupted her thoughts.
AT the end of the day, Marcy came to Amber’s office door. Knocking lightly, she murmurred “Gotta minute?” Amber turned and stood, arching her back and stretching. “Of course. Have a seat.”
“Mind if I close the door? It’s kind of personal.” Pulling it closed behind her, Marcy walked over to the desk and sat in one of the claret-colored leather chairs facing Amber. Amber surprised her – and herself – by coming out from behind the carved wood to sit in the other chair. Turning the chair to face Marcy, Amber sat, smiled and waited. She had guessed Marcy would apologize for this afternoon, so Amber already had a little speech prepared.
“Amber…about this afternoon…”
“Marcy, I thought you would come apologize and I want you to know….” Amber stopped as Marcy interrupted her.
“Apologize? Oh…well….ummm….no, that’s not why I came…but if I…well…no, I didn’t think I needed to. I was going to share türk porno something with you if you were interested.” A puzzled look crossed Amber’s face as Marcy continued “Of course, if you are not …..”
“No, Marcy. I – I….well I just….well, I am just glad you…you… don’t feel like you need to apologize. And of course, I am interested. How can I help you?”
Marcy smiled a soft, knowing smile. “Well, it is more along the lines of how I may be able to help you. Stop me if I’m wrong, but you seemed really interested in my breasts and breast milk this afternoon … Well, I couldn’t help but notice you have lovely breasts, too. When you were wearing that white sleeveless shell the other day – you know, the one with the pearl beading around the V? – well, I was standing at your desk while you were sitting, and I could see….” Watching Amber shift uncomfortably as she began to toy with her neckline, Marcy continued “I could see you were well blessed yourself and this afternoon, the stuff about my milk and all….well, have you ever thought about inducing your own milk?”
Marcy’s words hit her like a warm-yet-not-unpleasant slap – the kind Amber liked when be taken from behind, mmmmm……”hey, wait….where is this going?” Amber thought to herself. Snapping back to the present, “Inducing my own milk?” she asked out loud.
“Yes…I saw the way you looked at my….and when you tasted my milk. I have to tell you I was really wet.” Marcy chuckled, “I am glad BOB was there, so I could get back to work”
“Inducing my own milk? How?”
“Well this woman I met at the hospital told me that I ought to be ready to contact a wet nurse in case I didn’t have enough milk for both boys. I didn’t have that problem, but I called them anyway. The sweetest woman about my mom’s age came out to see me and we talked all about lactation and how great it was for the kids and all. Then she told me how she hadn’t had any kids, but had induced her own milk by stimulation and some herbal stuff and…”
” ‘Stimulation’? Playing with her nipples?” Amber thought quizzically. If that was all it took, she’d be spraying like Old Faithful….
“No” Amber laughed. “It takes sucking stimulation…two or three times a day…every day… for about 15-20 minutes. She said you also have to try to express for about 20-30 minutes each time. Anyway, she kept talking about how her cup size had gone up from a B to a D, and then she just pulled up her shirt.”
Amber stifled an outburst of laughter as Marcy continued: “Amber, she had the boobs of a 20 year-old. I could have sworn they were fake, but she started telling me about how the milk and stimulation had firmed them up. It felt a little weird to be talking to a half-naked stranger about her breasts, but I was so interested in how she had done it and why, I found myself strangely at ease. She began to express for me and suddenly sprayed my shirt.”
Amber squirmed again, but not from discomfort. “Damn, I am getting wet again” she thought. And as outlandish as it sounded, she knew she would be trying this….
Smiling at the memory, Amber bent her head to her uplifted nipple. Taking her nipple in her own lips, she gently sucked it, feeling a bit of milk on her palate. She inhaled sharply through her nose, at the feel of being suckled and the taste of her sweet milk. The first time she did this, she had felt … awkward, as if tasting her own milk was something she should not do. The fact was, she had liked the way her own lips teased her nipples. Releasing her left nipple, Amber moved to her right breast and began the process again. By the time she was finished, she had about four warm ounces, a large amount for her. She wished she had someone with whom to share, but for now….well, she smiled at her intended use.
Tonight, however, Amber was very still very aroused. Rising from the softness of the sofa, she walked silently through the house, turning off the lights, blowing out candles, checking the doors. Carrying her goblet of breast milk with her, she walked into the near darkness of her bedroom, pausing to set the milk on her nightstand. The bright lights of the bathroom momentarily broke her mood, but she softened it by turning on the small makeup mirror and extinguishing the overhead light. Ahhhh, now the room light was more …amber… she realized with a smile. After brushing and flossing her teeth and removing the bit of makeup she wore, she took the smooth glass bottle of her favorite fragrance – it was still Obsession – and lightly touched each wrist. Touching her index finger, then her middle finger, she lightly trailed one between her breasts and touched the skin just above the beginning of her lower lips – beneath her pubic hair – with the other. Her image greeted her in the large mirror and tonight (perhaps it was the 3rd glass of wine) she did not criticize. It was more than the wine, she knew; it was the new-found knowledge she had of her boss. Feeling …hmmm… prepared?, she thought, she chose a light cotton camisole and tap pants… and one of her beige bath towels. It was fluffy and thick; the soft loops felt wonderful on her ass, she smiled to herself. Turning off the mirror, she walked into her most private of places.
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