Rose

You and Amy sit at one of the tables and wait until Rose walks over to your table, serving tray in hand. Placing a cup in front of each of you, as well as two slices of sponge cake on the table, she turns to you.

“Would you like some milk with your coffee?” she asks Amy. After Amy’s nod of confirmation, Rose rests her belly on the table and unbuttons her shirt. Pulling it open and completely exposing her breasts, Rose starts to massage each one in turn. You already liked her boobs when they were covered, but now you can really appreciate them. Slightly torpedo shaped, the areolas are smallish (maybe about an inch diameter) with nipples just the right size for sucking.

After a few more strokes, she takes one breast in hand and squeezes around her areola. Pushing downwards towards her nipple, Rose slowly massages her breast until milk starts to dribble out. As she continues to milk herself, you watch as the dribble turns to a spray, each stream expertly aimed into Amy’s cup.

“That’s enough, thanks,” Amy says after a few more squirts. With a nod of thanks, she stirs Rose’s freshly squeezed milk into her coffee until it’s evenly mixed, not even bothering to look at Rose’s still dripping teats.

Turning to you, Rose jiggles her melons gently while nodding to your cup. “Do you want milk?” she asks innocently, completely oblivious to your now raging boner.

“Y-yes please,” you stammer. At your say-so, Rose aims at your cup, before you quickly stop her.

“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to pour my own milk, please.”

“Well, if you insist,” Rose says with a smile. Bracing her arms on the table, she looks at you expectantly. Getting out of your chair, you wipe your suddenly sweaty hands on your pants before walking around behind Rose and leaning against her back. You feel her shiver as you press against her back, your hard-on in particular slotting itself between her firm ass cheeks.

Reaching around to her front, you take a breast in each hand, exploring their softness with your fingers. When she doesn’t pull away, you experimentally squeeze Rose’s breasts. Milk shoots out, completely missing your cup and splattering across the table. You try to get some milk into your coffee a few more times, but you only succeed in sending milk all over the table.

“This is harder than I thought,” you mutter to yourself.

“That’s alright,” Rose says, giggling. “When I first started serving milk to customers, I had some trouble with aim too. Let me help you.” Gently taking your hands in her own, Rose guides your fingers and helps you to shoot some of her milk into your coffee. You’re momentarily stunned by the fact that a girl is helping you to milk her, before you adjust your fingers and take aim yourself. Now that you know the trick of it, nearly three quarters of your shots get into your cup.

“Uh… sir?” Rose asks hesitantly. Uh oh. Did you do something wrong? Is she suddenly noticing the perverted absurdity of the situation?

“Don’t you think that’s enough milk?” Glancing over her shoulder, you see that your cup is almost completely white with milk and nearly overflowing. The table is completely covered with milk that missed its target. Looks like you got a bit carried away.