My flat mate

“You’re staring at me again.” But there’s no real complaint in my full figured flat mate voice as she utters the words. In fact, her eyes show a mischievous delight.
“So do you want me to go?” I challenge as I take a few shuffling steps back towards the open den door. I’d just finished my last day of high school before the start of the Christmas holidays but I hadn’t hung around long at the class party. I hadn’t wanted to be late.
Emily quickly nods no and as she does my three week old niece’s lips slip off the teat they’d been sucking on. My eyes immediately lurch downward to the drop of milk that suddenly appears at the end of her suddenly freed nipple. I lick my lips.
“She’s hungry today,” my flat mate says as she shifts her daughter to her other fat nipple. When I move my eyes upward to catch hers I can’t miss the satisfaction that glows from them — she’s again caught me staring and admiring her breasts!
I groan inwardly as I watch little Abby’s mouth latch on and then start to nurse. Seconds later I’m sitting next to my flat mate on the couch. I try to hide my erection!
She and her new husband Gavin had moved in with us after they’d both graduated from College last May. Due to the economy and to Emily’s very unplanned pregnancy. They’d got married during their Spring Break last February and somehow, either because of too much to drink or too much sun, Emily had returned home from her Caribbean honeymoon with a daughter growing deep inside her.
She hadn’t got an abortion although I know there had been some talk of it at the time. So two months later, with degrees in hand, they settled in with us, with my parents and my seventeen year old flat mate Gretchen and yours truly. One big happy family!
We had lots of room in our house and although Dad grumbled a bit about having paid for Emily’s education only to be saddled with supporting the married couple, the truth was that he and mom were delighted at the thought of a granddaughter in the house.
And me? I quickly found out I was too. Eighteen year old high school male seniors don’t usually think about pregnancy a lot. Instead we spend most of our time thinking about pussy. And how to get some. I know I had. And not only my girlfriend’s.
But something had happened to me last summer. The pregnancy had fascinated me. Watching the metamorphosis of Emily’s body had been almost stupefying to me. And of course she’d noticed. And perhaps because her husband hadn’t shown the same interest she’d turned to me for support and maybe even something else.
She’d let me touch her stomach as it grew. Later I’d put my lips on her soft skin and whispered to her unborn child. Her breasts grew — I noticed. An intimacy grew between us. Not quite sexual at first but…
I dreamt of my flat mate. And as the months passed something unthinkable and unplanned happened. SEX! The thought of sex with my flat mate interfered. I whacked off to thoughts of my flat mate. My married flat mate. And even when I was making love to my girlfriend I found myself thinking of Emily. Of her growing tits.
How sick was that?
But I’d figured that it would pass. Emily would become too big. Or once she’d had the child my fantasy would pass.
But then she had Abby and it got worse. After watching just one milking I was hooked. And I’d almost immediately known I was going to drink from my flat mate’s breasts. It had slowly become an obsession over the past weeks.
So here I am, on a Friday afternoon, watching my big flat mate getting milked by my niece. And I wanted my share!
“Can I drink from you,” I say softly, still trying to hide my desire. I still haven’t figured out why she not only tolerates my presence at these sessions but actually encourages it. “When you’re alone I mean,” I clarify.
“My milk? From my breast?” she asks and I can’t help but hear the amusement my flat mate finds at my suggestion. I nod yes. She laughs and then adds,
“He thinks it’s yucky, that I shouldn’t even be breastfeeding her. He thinks I should wean her asap.”
“Whaaaat! Is he crazy?” How dumb is my brother-in-law I wonder as I look adoringly into my big flat mate’s eyes.
“He’s afraid they won’t be as nice later on. Daddy doesn’t like watching it either. You’re the only one who seems to like it, to like them. To like my breasts.”
It’s the first time she’s complained about her husband in front of me.
“Gretchen likes watching too,” I argue.
“Maybe,” Emily concedes but then adds enigmatically, “or maybe she’s just trying to figure out what her favourite brother is up to.”
“I’m up to nothing,” I protest as my cheeks start to burn. “I’m just interested. I’ve never–” But I didn’t get to finish my half formed thought — Emily interrupts me.
“I don’t mind … I’m glad you’re here,” she admits softly.
“You are?” She nods her head yes. Suddenly brave I blurt out, “I don’t know what he’s worried about anyway. They’re beautiful. They always will be.”
She can’t hide her happiness at my words, in fact her mouth breaks into a wide smile as she asks, “Really? You like them?”
“Uh huh,” I answer as I watch her lift Abby from her chest and offer her to me.
“Burp her?” she asks as I gently take my niece from my flat mate and start to pat her back. But she doesn’t immediately cover herself and as I minister to my niece my eyes continually flick back and forth from Abby to the beautiful, full, milk laden breasts that stand so proudly just inches away.
“They’re too big,” Emily complains as she cups her hands under her breasts and lifts them. There’s no shyness in her movements, in fact it’s more an offering than anything else. She’s displaying herself to me. We both know it.
“I love them … love you,” I say softly.
“You’re crazy,” she says with a giggling laugh but still makes no move to cover them. Instead I watch as she squeezes them and seconds later drops of creamy milk appear at the end of each nipple. She’s playing me. I still haven’t figured out why.
I know she loves me looking at them. Was it possible that she’d like to feed me? That she wants my lips at her nipples as badly as I want them there?
A couple of minutes later we both leave the room … the show was over for the day.

We’d slowly slipped into a routine in the weeks since Abby’s birth. Breastfeeding. What the heck, what’s so special about it? But I’d been captivated by the spectacle from the first second I’d seen Abby suckling at Emily’s tits. And Emily knew it!
She’d recognized my interest immediately and had encouraged it. Whenever she’d been breastfeeding around the house in those first few weeks she’d done it as modestly as possible. Hiding her feeding child under strategically placed pieces of cloth. That is unless it was just she and I in the room. Then the show would start.
I learned her schedule and outside of school hours I magically appeared at exactly the right time. She’d teased me at first but always in a way that let me know she liked me being there.
But it was the night time feedings that had become the special ones. The ones where we knew we wouldn’t be disturbed. The ones where there was no shyness between us. The ones where she displayed her breasts proudly to her horny younger brother.
I invariably woke up whenever I heard Abby’s plaintive night time cries for food and would immediately rise from my bed and join them. But tonight I’d been out with my girlfriend and had only just got home in time.
“Are you just getting home now?” I can hear the hint of complaint, even some jealousy in my flat mate’s voice.
“I was afraid I’d be late,” I answer as I cross the room and then sit next to Emily and put my arm around her. We all know our places now. I’m still panting from having run the last two blocks.
“She waited for you,” sis answers as she cradles her daughter’s head to her breast. I watch the babies lips hungrily latch on to her nipple.
“Thanks for waiting sweetie,” I say as I move my other hand so that my fingers are able to gently caress the top of my niece’s head. For seconds neither of us say anything, instead we’re content to simply watch the feeding. I watch almost breathlessly as I slowly start to slide the back of my hand down across Abby’s cheek.
And when it accidently slides off her cheek and onto the side of Emily’s breast I can’t help but feel the tremors that spiral upward through her body. They match the excited jerk of my penis. She’s as excited as I am!
But she ignores my touch and asks, “So where did you and Jenny go tonight anyway?” Sis’s question delivered in a tremulous quaver. There are goose bumps on her arm.
“A movie” ,my nervousness obvious as I watch my finger hovering centimetres away from where Abby’s lips are working feverishly.
“Til now? It’s almost three thirty.” Another complaint. She adjusts her daughter and in doing so her breast accidently comes back in contact with my fingers. Or is it an accident?
“We’re not old folks like you married guys,” I teased then added, “We went back to her place.” My focus is so intense on the milk filled tit that I’m hardly aware of our words. Again my finger lightly brushes across her breast.
“Did you guys make out?”As she asked the question she shifts Abby to her other nipple.
“yes,” I answered as I watched a drop form on the abandoned teat. My hand, hanging in the air is suddenly trembling.
“Did you have sex?” There’s an excited curiosity in Emily’s voice.
“Uh huh,” I answered and then the middle finger on my left hand decides to act on its own and swoops down and captures the drop of milk just as it’s about to fall.
“Don’t,” she says as I push the milk laden tip of my finger between my lips. She’s too late! She watches as I lick my finger.
“It’s good!”
“You shouldn’t have!” But she can’t keep her excitement from her eyes.
“Why not?”
“It’s Abby’s. We can’t waste any.”
“You have lots,” I answered “In fact I’ve been studying it. I went on line today and read all about lactation.”
“What’d you read?”
“It said that the more milk a baby takes, the more you make. It’s good for you. And the baby. And whoever else.”
“Whoever else?”
“Whoever else you choose to feed.”
“I only feed little Abby.”
“You’re lucky I’m not your husband.”
“Because you’d have two mouths to feed.”
“Well you’re not. And you can’t have any more.”
As she talks I know I’m going to have more, that there is no way I’ll be able to control my need. But it’s time to change the subject.
“Her breasts aren’t as nice as yours.”
“Whose aren’t?”
“She lets you see them?”
“I tried to milk her tonight.”
“She didn’t have any milk.”
“She let you?”
“Touch them, suck them.” I answered.
“You two are too young to be doing stuff like that,” she admonishes even though I know she wants to hear every detail.
“We had already fucked,” I exclaimed using the ‘f’ word to take her aback.
“You shouldn’t use that word, its ugly.”
“Three times.”
“Three times what?” I didn’t answer.
“You made love three times? Tonight? With Jenny?”
“Uh huh. Then I tried to milk her.”
“She’s on pills isn’t she? You use protection?” I nodded yes to both her questions. “You’re too young.”
“There are other ways to get milk you know. You can induce lactation. I read all about it.”
“You’re crazy.” Emily smiles as she says the words and then lifts her sated daughter off her breast and hands her to me. “Be careful,” she instructs as I start to pat my nieces back.
“Jenny thought I was crazy too,” I answer with a laugh. And my girlfriend had laughed when I’d told her it was possible for a girl to lactate even if she hadn’t been pregnant and had a child.
“I explained ‘induced lactation’ to her.”
“I’ll bet she loved that,” Ems says with a smile. For seconds we just look into each other’s smiling eyes without saying anything.
“I guess I better get back,” she finally offers.
“Yeah,” I agreed reluctantly as I uncoil my six foot two inch tall body from the couch and slowly stand. But before leaving I bent to lightly brush my flat mate’s lips with mine. “I love you,” I whisper, then turn to go.
“Why are my breasts nicer than Jenny’s?” I hear whispered from behind just as I’m about to slip out the door. I turn back. She’s still uncovered, bare from the waist up. I look my flat mate directly in the eyes, then slowly move mine lower to the full, round mountains that have dominated every waking thought I’ve had for the last three weeks.
I licked my lips. “They just are.” I said and turned.
I wanted her too. And as I lie naked in my bed minutes later, stroking my cock, I realise it’s never been just about her milk…

“You’re a real perv,” I hear whispers in my ear. Then my flat mate giggles when I jumped about six inches up out of my chair.
“You’re supposed to knock,” I instructed my little flat mate for the thousandth time.
As usual she ignores me as she leans over my shoulder and peers at my computer screen. “Breasts! That’s all boys ever think about,” she complains as she looks at the video playing on the screen. It shows a young Japanese girl being milked by her lover.
“You’ll grow some someday,” I answered even though I can feel her firm, young, teenage breast bumping against my shoulder.
“You’re soooooo funny,” she replies as she stands up straight and pulls her shoulders back in a pose that extenuates everything she’s got. She looks down into my eyes and challenges me to look. I do. Slowly. I caress her curves with my eyes before finally saying something, “In another two or years when you grow up…”
She punches my shoulder. Of course I knew she would. We know each other too well. And Gretchen, a veteran of these sibling wars, quickly goes back to the attack.
“You want to milk Emily don’t you?” she asked, then adds in a tone only a teenage girl can manage, “and she’s your oooown flat mate for crying out loud.”
“I’m interested in the process, the–”
“Oh sure, Doctor Mark,” she scoffs. But she’s smiling.
My flat mate and I are best friends. Always have been. At almost eighteen she’s only eleven months younger than I am. Siblings like us, born so close together, invariably either become enemies or friends. We’d been lucky.
Actually it’d been Emily who’d never really fit in. She had been the odd fifth wheel between the duo of mom and dad, and Gretch and I. With her being almost five years older than me I’d never really got to know her growing up.
She babysat Gretch and I but really hadn’t played with us.
She’d been off and away to college before I’d gone through puberty so I’d never really noticed her sexual attractiveness until she arrived home married and pregnant.
I suddenly realise as I talk to Gretchen that she’s as baffled as I am about the whole milky Emily fixation I’ve been showing. And I know I’ll never be able to fool her…

Both my flat mate and her baby smile at me as I come through the den door. “You shouldn’t keep getting up like this,” Emily complains but we both knew she’d have been disappointed if I hadn’t come. Our routine has become fixed.
“What’s that?” she asks even though she can’t help but recognise the photo album and the saucer I’m holding in my hand for exactly what they are.
“Have you ever seen this album before?” I asked as I sat down next to her and opened the album on my knee.
“I don’t know. Who’s in it?” she asks as she looks. “Oh my gawd,” she gasps as I turn the page and reveal pictures of our mom she’d never seen before.
“Is that me?” I watched as her eyes dart around the two pages, trying to see everything at once. Pictures of her mother, topless and sitting on the edge of her bed, feeding her newborn.
“Yes,” I answered as I put my arm around my flat mate. Abby on the other hand is happy at her mother’s breast, notices nothing except the tit in her mouth.
“Where’d you find it?”
“By accident. A couple of weeks ago. I was looking for something in the attic.”
“It wasn’t exactly hidden but–”
“Daddy must have taken them,” she says as she slowly fingers each photo. I know she must be thinking the same thoughts as I had when I’d opened it for the first time.
I turn the page. The next pictures are from another day but the subject is the same — mother and daughter. This time both were naked as our mother suckled her newborn. I watch as Emily takes in mom’s tangled triangle of pubic hair.
“It’s weird … daddy and mommy doing that.”
“I know.”
“We shouldn’t look at them, they’re private,” sis exclaims but makes no effort to close the book. I simply turn the page in answer. More of mom and Emily. Then, as I continue to turn the pages, other pictures, pictures of mom and dad, pictures I quickly skim through. Private pictures. Pictures children shouldn’t see of their parents.
Emily gasps out, “Daddy’s penis,” as we flip by one particularly revealing shot. Then pictures of me appear. It was my turn to get photographed at my mother’s breast.
“These are the ones I really wanted you to see,” I say as I flip the page again. There are four pictures, two on each facing page. I’m being held in my four and a half year old flat mate’s arms. Mom, topless, and obviously just having finished feeding me, has a broad grin on her face as she watches her little girl trying to imitate her.
“You see, you wanted to feed me eighteen years ago,” I say triumphantly.
“I did not,” she answers as she examines the pictures.
“You know Emily, your breasts are even nicer than moms were back then,” I compliment.
“You shouldn’t say things like that.” But she’s beaming.
In answer I lift the shallow saucer from where I’d dropped it on the couch and offer it to her.
“What’s that for?” But of course she knows. I wait. “We can’t, it would be wrong,” she finally offers. There’s an excited blush on her cheek.
“I want to taste you.”
“You can’t.”
“Do you want me to do it then?” I ask as I move my hand towards her breasts.
“NO! Stop that,” she almost shouts as she pulls her body back from me.
“Then you do it,” I insist. Emily slowly moves her hand under and then cups her left breast. I watch spellbound as she caresses and squeezes streams of milk from first one, then her other tit. Her cream splashes into the saucer. I wait.
And then I lap her milk from the saucer when she finally offers it to me.
“More,” I insist when I’ve licked every drop from the saucer.
“I don’t have anymore.”
“Your brother’s hungry.”
“He’s a bad little boy,” Ems answers but she takes the saucer from my hand.
“He loves his flat mate’s breasts,” I answer reverentially.
“He shouldn’t,” she answers as a stream of milk suddenly spurts from her nipple and arches between the gap between us and then splashes against my cheek.
I know as I lap up the second saucer full that for my next feeding I won’t need to bring the saucer…

It’s late on Christmas Eve but, unlike in the famous Christmas story, there is a creature stirring. Three of them in fact. Sis, Abby and Uncle Timothy.
“Merry Christmas Abby,” I coo in my niece’s ear as I lift her from her basinet. She immediately stops her crying and smiles up at me. “Mommy will be here soon honey,” I promise as I offer her my finger. She’s just realizing there’s no milk in it when her mother comes through the door.
“And Merry Christmas to you too,” I say as I pass my niece over to her mom.
There’s no shyness in her movements as she quickly lets her negligee slip off her shoulders. No artful adjustment of her clothes as she brings her hungry child to her chest. “None for you tonight,” she promises me but I can see she’s happy I’m there. Happy that I’m looking at, and admiring, her body.
“No time anyway,” I answer as I pull my digital camera out of the pocket of p.j.’s.
“No way, don’t you dare,” she says the second I aim the camera at her. Abby, her face buried in her mother’s bosom, ignores the flash.
Ignoring her I walk over to the light switch and flick on the overhead lights. Then I turn on each of the three reading lamps in the room. “We won’t need the flash now,” I tell my flat mate as I start to photograph her.
“Don’t. Pleeeease Mark,” she says as she attempts to cover the breast Abby isn’t feeding on.
“Smile,” I order as I lift her hand away from her body. I continued with the pictures.
“What if someone comes?”
“They’re all asleep,” I answered
“We shouldn’t,” she says but she belies her words by arching her back while cupping her breast.
“Christmas milk … Christmas breasts … Christmas baby,” I say reverentially as I continue to shoot. “We’ll make our own Abby and Emily album.”
“No one can ever see them,” she orders as I, finally finished shooting, put the camera back in my p’j.’s pocket. It bumps against my raging cock.
“Except us.”
“Don’t even let Gretchen see them.” We both know that request is an impossibility to meet given our flat mate’s curiosity and her mastery of computers.
“I’ll take some more, next week, during the day,” I promise.
“It’s wrong,” Ems insists but we both know we’re going to do it. Neither of us has done anything near as exciting in our whole lives. And as I stand I know she can’t help but see my erection poking straight out. The thin cotton cloth of my p.j.’s can’t hide its need.
I stand still in front of her and wait until her eyes zero in on my rearing mast. Finally she tears her eyes away and looks up into mine. “Merry Christmas,” I whisper as I bend down and kiss her. A quick kiss, but not a brother’s kiss. A wet kiss.
“Merry Christmas,” she whispers back when our lips break apart.
“And you do know what I want you to give me for Christmas don’t you?” I ask as I back towards the door.
“I caaaan’t. You know I can’t,” she pleads to my back as I disappear.

I bought Emily a sweater for Christmas. A cashmere sweater. A vee necked, ivory colored pullover that the second I it saw on the mannequin in the store I knew would be beautiful on her. A sweater that I knew would highlight her breasts perfectly. Her milky breasts.
Of course its choice presented me with some problems. Like how could I give my flat mate a two hundred dollar gift without doing the same for Gretchen. And mom. And especially for my girlfriend Jenny. So I ended up spending just about every cent I’d saved from my summer job. It was worth it just to see Emily’s breasts encased in cashmere.
Fortunately Gretchen was delighted by her gift, a dark red silk, sleeveless top that I knew would be perfect for her to go out nightclubbing in. It was an adult top, a sexy top. A top a girl wouldn’t wear a bra under. She smiled when she unwrapped it.
So I got points from everyone.

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