My breasts throb, swollen and heavy, leaking milk that soaks every shirt I own.
It's a relentless drip, a cruel echo of the baby I lost and the man who vanished with him.
Alone in this hushed suburban house, I ache for hands that know how to ease the pressure - tender yet unyielding, the kind that command surrender without a word.
But who could I ask? No one. Especially not him.
Dad's best friend.
The older man who's been a fixture at our table my whole life, solid as oak, eyes crinkling with that loyal smile.
Until now.
Now those eyes track the wet stains on my chest, darkening with something ruthless.
He shows up unannounced, fixes the sink in our milk-scented kitchen, his callused palms brushing too close.
I catch my breath, hating how my body leans in.
Thunder cracks one stormy night, driving us to the basement shadows.
There, sweat slicks our skin as he pins me against the wall, voice gravel-rough.
"These are mine to empty," he murmurs, fingers claiming my curves, coaxing rhythmic streams of warm milk that trace glistening paths down my skin.
I gasp, defiant whispers turning to bold pleas - wrong, so wrong, but his grip milks me dry, wave after guilty wave crashing through me.
Ecstasy laced with shame, his mouth following where his hands lead, devouring what no one else should touch.
Every stolen session wounds deeper.
He's dad's unbreakable confidant, the protector turned predator in my arms.
One stray droplet on the couch, one stifled cry overheard, and the secret explodes - dad gone forever, my fragile pride in ruins.
Self-respect leaks away like the milk he wrings from me, leaving me hollow, craving more.
How do I stop when his betrayal feels like the only mercy I've known?
A full-length age gap lactation milking taboo dad's best friend erotic romance featuring a desperate young mother and her dad's possessive older friend.
