[Superior Seed] Mutual milking.

You take her by the hand, walking her to the couch. In the daze afforded by your presence, she allows it. "Ophelia... are you afraid of having another baby?"

She doesn't reply right away, and it isn't until you're sitting on the couch that she responds, looking down at you over the horizon of her own massive cleavage. "I am... I'm..." Tears well in her eyes. "... he doesn't trust hospital, so we... we had the baby here, with a mid-wife and... it just hurt so much, and taking care of one baby is so much work..."

You tap the couch on either side of you. She tries to sit to your right, but you put your hand out to stop her. "It'll be hard to drink, won't it? Just sit on my lap and face me..." Her brow twitches, and you realize whatever spell you've put her under is threatening to break. "Just seems easier that way for us both, is all... please, tell me more." After fidgeting in place, she finally starts to move onto you, and the couch creeks under the focused weight in its center. Only now that her breasts loom so near your face, and her wide hips engulf your legs, do you realize how big this girl is. She's a few inches shorter than you, and not heavy-set like {if Diana_slave = true}Diana{else@}a few girls you know{endif}, but the sheer volume of attractive flesh almost overwhelms you. Her nipples, huge from afar, now stuck out at you like spongy thumbs. A single droplet of semi-translucent white trembles on the tip of her right, and you unconsciously lick your lips. "So... he put you through that, and he won't let you avoid doing it all again," you breath, as you near it.

"That's... that's not the ri-hngh!" Her words fall short as you cover that massive areola with your lips, as far as they will go and nearly engulfing it all. You suck and squeeze the flesh that fills your mouth, and are rewarded with a flood that nearly causes you to ****. The taste is... bizarrely good. It's sweet and pleasant, and far thicker than you expected... but when combined with her soft moan and exhales, and the perversion of this act, its welcome flavor creates a new dimension of arousal for which you aren't quite ready. You work to drain her while she tries to speak. "He... He doesn't... the church said birth control was wrong, or it did when I was growing up... but the will of God has changed, and he-eep! ... he doesn't want to change with the church. He still thinks it's wrong..."

You take a few more greedy gulps and, when your mouth empties, a few generous licks around the entire quarter of her breast that your tongue can reach. Devi told you your saliva, too, was laden with your pheromones; you do your best to cover the flesh of her right breast before withdrawing. You look up at her... and see how red her face has gotten. Given that she's a mother and a wife, it's surprising to see such a naked display of embarrassed arousal... and suddenly your original worry for her happiness seems very far away. You try to latch back onto it, staying on topic despite how devastatingly hard you are with this teenage MILF on top of you. "But if God is fine with it, why shouldn't you?"

"Mr. Peck..." She looks away, upset. She fidgets on your lap, but you continue pushing her.

"I know he's your husband, but that shouldn't be the end of your own will." You try to not think about the hypocrisy.

"Mr. Peck..."

"No, Mrs. Cross! You're your own woman, and you-"

She reaches down to where your crotches meet, and daintily presses on the rigid outline of your cock in your pants. An outline that vanishes beneath and against her hot pants. You see now that her expression might only be partially due to your mouth; you've been dry-humping her clit for the past minute. "Mr. Peck, why are you... like this...?" She sounds a bit upset... and you respond by taking her other tit into your mouth, slathering it generously before taking in more milk. She moans under your attack, and tries desperately to stay focused. "If you're... like this, Mr. Peck," she groans, still too embarrassed to describe your erect prick, "then what we're doing... is... is..." She shudders, and you feel moisture spread against your glans... only to realize it isn't hers. Perhaps it's your ever-evolving cum that's to blame, but your pre-cum now has volume comparable to a full ejaculation by any other man's measure. She shifts around on your driveshaft, unconsciously digging her hotpants into your seed, soiling her vagina as it seeps through all the cloth between you... and, at last realizing her own arousal and the growing mess in her panties, she suddenly ejects from danger, pulling her top over those swollen, dripping obsessions of yours.

You lick your lips clean; you could get used to the flavor of her cream. You imagine life would be better with a taste of it every morning, but that fantasy falls to the background as you watch your "catch" slowly realize the bait.

As she daintily touches her own crotch, now soaked in some pittance of your seed, you try to conjure the best excuse you can. "That's... this is... just a... medical condition?"

"Medical condition? You're..." She touches the matching damp patch at the end of your erection... soaking her finger in your pre-cum, and causing your body to tremble. Her anger melts into worry, and she bends over to look more closely at your crotch. "Well... it does look very unhealthy..."

What is that supposed to mean?! "If you don't mind... can you take it out for me?" She looks back to your face, wide-eyed. "I-It just hurts more if I try to relieve the pressure myself." She bites her thumb as she contemplates your request... accidentally letting the moisture there touch her tongue. You try to hold back the screaming in your head - Yes! Yes! Take it in! - to keep up the appearance of suffering.

She nods and, with the deftness of a wife, she undoes your pants and, daintily, peels your boxers away until your weapon flicks out, fully engorged with a trembling droplet of moisture caught in its mouth. She inhales sharply in surprise. "Dear... Lord!" She marvels at your shaft, her eyes dissecting it as you had her silhouette earlier. "It's so swollen!" Well she isn't wrong, but... "It must hurt so much, I- I'm sorry I sat on it!" What? She continues looking it up and down, licking her lips in a way that doesn't match her sincere concern. "I just didn't think they could become so distended... and large, and yet still shaped properly it... it must be so painful. I'm so sorry!"

Oh. OH. So Mr. Cross' insecurity is revealed... though it hardly justifies what he's done to her. What he is still doing, you remind yourself. It's this noble goal that you use to excuse your next statement:

"I... I didn't know it got this bad, either... I don't think I can get to the hospital in time."

"Hospital?!" Guilt gnaws on your heart as she's terrified for you, but your mission (and arousal) prevail. "E-E-Even if we call 911?"

"I... I mean, there's an emergency procedure, but it requires suction, and I can't... I can't reach myself with my own mouth." You look to her, pleading with your eyes. Inside, you plead with God to keep up her gullibility, or the effect of your seed on her, or both. "I know it's gross... you probably don't even want to look at it, much less help suck out the-"

Her face drifts from terror, to confusion, to disgust, to pity... and then, with a "hmpf!" exhaled through her nose, to determination. You fall silent as she closes in, pulling her hair back and away from her face. This can't be working... or so you tell yourself. It almost falls apart when she draws close, wrinkling her nose and brow as she second-guesses her decision to save you from some yet-unnamed disease. The question in her mind, somewhat sharp but under-educated, almost cuts through the pheromones and the tidbit of your semen that coated her tongue from her thumb... until her tongue touches you, and laps up the droplet it finds.

Her glare softens, and her grimace turns into an "O" as she engulfs your head.

Thank the Lord for that, because you've been teetering on the edge for a full minute now. You sigh the relief of a man whose life was just saved, and she looks up, surprised... only to receive a warm and voluminous gift in her mouth. "Don't let it spill-" you manage as you ejaculate down her throat, your hands flying to grip her hair at the roots to keep her mouth anchored. Her eyes are wide at first, and her own hands jump up to push off of you... but the poison is already seeping into her mouth and throat, shooting fast-acting chemicals through every membrane that was now slathered in your cum. Her arms relax, and then sink towards you as she willingly finishes drinking. She moans onto your coming cock, which elevated you to an almost painful bliss, and her nails dig into your hips as she violently orgasms from the potent deposit now oozing down her throat. Damp splotches begin to bleed like bullet wounds on her tanktop until the milk is visibly dribbling through the thin fabric.

Your fuckstick still twitches, no less engorged, when she finally releases it. "That... that was..."

"I'm sorry," you gasp. In some ways you really mean it. "It just... it stains, and..."

"That felt so strange," she mutters as she lays her head down on your inner-thigh, a lazy gaze reading the veins on your turgid meat. Her body shivers with the last quakes of her climax. "I never... knew such a sensation existed..." You frown. Of course she didn't... she never knew a man or pleasure beyond Mr. Cross. Hell, given how young he took her in, she likely forgot most of the life before Mr. Cross. Your original mission is all but secondary now... because even if it is technically as a fuck ****, you would still be saving this woman... you need to, now.

She wipes a droplet from the edge of her mouth, and looks at it with sudden alarm. "Isn't this... isn't this just sperm?" She looks at you with the accusation, sucks it off of her thumb... and then her eyes nearly bulge out of her head as she realizes how naturally she finished her meal.

"No," you lie, "just a harmless discharge that stains, so I didn't want to... ruin the rug." You're totally ready to ruin her rug and her carpet, presuming Mr. Cross doesn't have her shaving herself bald downstairs. The more you consider his total control over her, and denial of a proper life, or pleasure, or even modern childbirth... if you didn't have a particular use for her, you'd be keen on reporting him to the police. You keep reminding yourself that you're the hero here, even as you lie to get her enslaved to your will. "But there's still a dangerous amount..."

Now under the influence of you ever-potent jizz, she doesn't need much convincing. She goes back to sucking you off eagerly, taking you deep into her throat in front of the dozens of wooden and metal saviors that disdainfully watch your coupling. You take your shirt off, earning a confused glance. "Mmfmff?"

"Just trying to avoid getting my clothes dirty... you should, too. All of our clothes, actually." Still with your cock head in her mouth, she glances at her own, skimpy outfit. "Take off your clothes, Ophelia." She nods, and drags your pants and boxers down and off without letting you pop out of her mouth. In a few awkward minutes of shifting about, she succeeds in pulling off her own clothes, letting your cock go only long enough to take off her tank top, now almost translucent with milk. When she puts you back on her tongue, you realize you're damn near finish again. You ogle her as she peels off her soaked white panties, revealing a fiery bush of curly hair, the last barrier between you and your goal. Her breasts are leaking milk in small rivers now, painting lines down her breasts; she lets a hand hover over her left to give it a gentle squeeze, dragging another moan out of her and vibrating her tongue against your cock, driving you over the edge as you begin to pump her full of your second serving of ****-like baby batter, causing a chain of reaction of her coming, her breasts squirting milk messily on you and the couch, your own orgasm growing painful and deep with her eager sucking, and the additional seed in her maw repeating this cycle. By the end, you're both gibbering messes of human milk and semen, though you certainly came out the cleaner: your seed and her drool paints a circle around her mouth, her milk has bathed her entire front, and her hands furiously clutch her crotch even as she begs herself not to masturbate.

"No, this is... forbidden, I mustn't... I'll be punished if I... if I... huuuuuuhngh!" She comes a third time while you shamelessly stroke your cock, enjoying her tormented expression. You wonder if she ever masturbated to completion before now. She tries to walk away... and falls to her knees, and then onto her face. Her torso crushes her breasts against the rug depicting saints, bathing Peter and Lazarus both in mother's milk.

In this **** position, with her hairy snatch all but taunting you as she unwillingly masturbates towards a fourth orgasm, you find it hard to see her avoiding impregnation... even if she all but explicitly told you how terrified she is of having another baby.