Page 187 of Wanting What's Wrong

I just know my body is his playground now.

My milk is his obsession.

And I’m the luckiest, dirtiest girl alive.

Epilogue

Jenna

Two years later

The shop’s closed for lunch like it is every day when Cal and I work together, the CLOSED sign swinging lazily in the window. It’s quiet. Peaceful. Our one-year-old Emily is asleep in her crib in the back office, the monitor sitting on the counter next to the register, her soft little breathing mixing with the filthy sounds Cal and I are making.

I’m perched on Cal’s lap behind the counter, moaning. He has one hand on my belly where our second baby kicks, his mouth latched on tight to my left breast as he finger fucks me under my skirt.

“Spread your fucking legs,” he mumbles. “Put your foot up on that shelf, I want in this sloppy little cunt deep. I want my knuckles banging on that pubic bone. Spread, now.”

“I’m leaking all over the register,” I pant, lifting my foot tosecure it on the shelf under the counter, widening my knees while holding the weight of my other breast as his hand makes sloppy slapping sounds moving in and out of my other dripping body part.

“Suck your tit. Feed yourself while you feed me. Get that nipple in your mouth.”

I groan as I bend my head down, the back of my neck straining as I push the weight of my breast upward, the milk spraying over my nose in a tickling pre-emptive strike as I latch onto myself and start to suck.

I’m bombarded with sensations. Cal drawing on me, my nipple practically tickling his tonsils as he latches on so hard, his fingers working my pussy, thumb grinding circles on my clit, and my own lips around my areola, pulling the warm sweet milk over my tongue.

It tastes so good. I understand why babies and Cal are so greedy about it. It’s true liquid gold, as he always tells me.

The world has adjusted to our relationship for the most part. Small towns are gossip farms and as if our age difference wasn’t enough, the fact that Cal was married to my mother makes it fodder for the old bitties of the town to scowl as we walk by.

Cal doesn’t care. When anyone stares, he grabs my ass or my tit, lifting me up to carry me facing him down the street with his tongue down my throat. You love who you love, as he says, and I love him more than I knew was possible.

My neck starts to ache from the angle as the orgasm builds from Cal’s fingers. He knows me so well, he pops off one nipple, nudging me away from the other one where I’m latched on with the side of his head.

“Come, baby. I love how hard you squirt when you come for me. From both places.”

He switches sides, tugging my nipple into his mouth and groaning again when a fresh stream hits his tongue, releasing fora breath as I arch my neck back, looking up at the ceiling fan doing lazy turns above.

“Fuck, baby. It just gets sweeter every time. I’m going eat your pussy out after. Then you’re going to pour some of your pumped milk on your cunt while I’m licking you. I want that sweet on sweet.”

He draws down again and that tingling let down hits every time as he takes that deep first draw.

I’m squirming on his lap, desperate for more. I know how hard he is, I feel every inch of him pressing into my ass.

He adds another finger to my pussy and the pad of his thumb strums hard, back and forth over my swollen clit. I’m bucking and twisting, the orgasm gathering in the backs of my legs then shooting up and outward, sending curse words from my lips as Cal’s teeth pinch at my nipple, sending shockwaves through my nervous system.

“Daddy!” I scream, so loud I’m sure they can hear me down at the courthouse.

White light sprinkles behind my closed lids as my toes curl. Cal’s mouth moves again, adding teeth to the side of my breast, and this time all I can think about is how soon he’s gonna bend me over the ammo cabinet and fuck me with the scent of milk and my pussy filling the air of the shop.

Cal noticed an uptick in sales since I came here. He’s kicked out more than a handful of male customers for putting their eyes on me, and even sent poor Dick Brunner to the hospital with a dislocated jaw for calling me ‘sugar’.

The world bleeds into softness around the edges of my vision as the orgasm ebbs. Cal’s massive hand cups the back of my head, pulling me down into a milky kiss, sharing the last draw from my breast as has become our tradition.

But then there’s a knock on the glass from the front of the shop and I startle, pulling my shirt over my exposed breasts, Cal’s fingers still stuffed into my pulsing opening.

“Relax,” he murmurs. “It’s your sister.”

Sure enough, Renae is standing at the window, waving with a smirk.

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