Page 41 of Milk & Cookie

“It probably falls under the frustration category,” I say with a sigh. “I miss you, and I can’t stop thinking about what I did to you and what may be happening inside you. Every thought I have is interrupted by God, is she pregnant? I fucking hope so. I think I’m going to cry. Or laugh. Or run screaming through the streets, shaking every person I know until they understand how fucking excited I am.

“I keep thinking, If Fred’s pregnant… next time I pick her up and cuddle her, I’ll be holding two beautiful souls. How soon will Fred’s belly grow round? What will it feel like in my hands. Will our baby have pretty blue eyes like her mama? Will the girls have a new brother? What will they think of that? And how frickin’ cute are they all going to look in the fucking minivan I just bought?”

A loud clang in the background sounds like she dropped a pan. “You bought a minivan?” she asks.

“Well, yeah. We can’t keep cramming babies into that bicycle trailer of yours. And how will we all go on road trips, so they can meet their Nan and Pops and all their cousins?” I scratch my head. “We’ll probably need two minivans by the time I’m done breeding you,” I rumble.

She inhales sharply, and then makes a humming sound that sends another a rush of blood to my dick.

“What was that, Angel?” I whisper.

“You. Being delicious.” She makes a few more banging sounds. “If you were here, we could be working out this frustration in a more productive manner. I have to say, I never thought I’d be the kind of girl who’d find having a minivan hot, but you’re selling it, babe.”

“God, I wish I had you in my arms. I want to love on you so bad right now.”

“I want that too,” she says softly. “It’s hard, not being able to see you.”

“And the days feel so long, Angel.”

“Probably because we keep having these entertaining conversations so early in the morning,” she says with a smile in her voice.

I smile too. “You’re probably right.”

I’ve been telling her everything that comes to mind, except for the mystery I’m actually trying to solve. She doesn’t need to think about that — especially when we’ve been using these baking-time chats to plan our future and all the things we want to do together. These talks end with phone sex every time.

“Thanks for calling my random thoughts and stories entertaining.” I glance at the pile of information about her parents on my desk, and then turn the other way.

Fred chuckles. “Thank you for listening to me moan about Mom’s current fixation with uprooting us again. She’s too scared to give you a real chance, but my feet are firmly planted. She’ll come around in time,” she says. “And thank you for making my bakery chores go so fast,” she adds with another clang of her baking pans. “Just finished the last of the dishes.”

I lie back on my bed, feeling useless and far away. “I wish I were there to help.”

“I wish you were here to cuddle me, and then fuck me in the break room as a reward for my hard work,” she counters.

“So do I,” I say with a moan, as my cock astutely detects what time it is. “Do you have your pumps with you?” I ask, stroking myself.

“Mm-hm. Getting them ready as we speak. I’m so full, Vince. I can barely wrap my hands halfway around my breasts; they’re so big.”

“God, I love speakerphone.” My cock strains in my hand, and I sit up to better arrange my pillows. “Do you need to milk yourself a little first, to get the pumps suctioned on right?”

She utters a soft gasp and mumbles a strained yes.

“Mmm… They’re tight. Aren’t they, Angel? I’d suckle nice and gentle, until you started to flow. That’s when it starts to feel good, isn’t it, baby girl? You turned to putty in my hands and relaxed that pretty cunt enough for me to stretch it right open. I love when your sweet milk pours into my mouth. I want to suck you so hard, I can hardly control my thirst.”

She whimpers on the other end of the line, and I grip the head of my cock tightly, the way her pussy would. “Are you getting wet, Angel? Check for me.”

A soft yes hits my ears, but I want more. “Let me hear it, beautiful. Fuck those fingers hard and fast.”

The rhythmical sounds coming through the phone get louder and wetter, and my balls are already throbbing with the urge to rut and come. “You need some more stretching. You were so tight. I’ll have to push hard, to get inside you again. You’re going to be sore again after.”

“I’m still sore.”

I press my head back into the pillows, arching my back with the surge of excitement that sends my cock into a wild jerk. “It’s been days, beautiful. You can still feel where I’ve been?”

“Mm-hmm. And it’s exactly where I want to feel you when you get back.”

“Fuck.” I smear a streak of pre-cum over my tip. “What are you going to do about it?”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

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