MilkFountain
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Mar 13, 2005
- Posts
- 1,481
Either Friend or Stranger, Who & How Did You Choose The Third One To Lie With Your Wife? Reading my wife, I joined her in choosing well. I'll tell ours one by one if you tell yours. The first that comes to mind . . .
At a natural hot pool in the Sawtooth Range of the Canadian Rockies, My wife and I were the only ones up to our necks in almost unbearably hot spring water, surrounded by snow and towering trees that almost obscured the starry night. Our baby was swaddled warmly and sound asleep in our van. After our first shivers and shouts on stripping off in the 30-below cold, and settling into the steamy heat, I slipped behind her on the rock shelf and began massaging her back, arms and neck.
Two young men who later told us they were on their way from jobs felling trees in Washington State to their homes in Calgary joined us. Both my wife (24 yrs old) and I (considerably older) surreptitiously appreciated their work hardened bodies as they self-consciously stripped off. As I continued to massage her, occasionally following her ribs around to just under her breasts, causing them to rise into the wavering, sometimes transparent steam off the water, we made polite conversation.
I saw that one of the boys was staring at my wife's breasts. Looking down, I saw that when I now deliberately raised one, little fountains of milk arced a few inches into the water. I said that we have a baby asleep in the van, and that sometimes, when she is too full or maybe, as now, the heat from the hot springs relaxed her, her milk lets down. What I didn't say, is the truth: her milk lets down when our baby is hungry, or when she is aroused.
Both the boys were curious. By then we had become comfortable with them, and they with us. Casually, as from friends in long standing, a string of questions came from the boys, all focused on my wife, her breasts, and mother's milk. Whispering in her ear, I asked my wife if she'd mind them trying some of her milk. Turning her face up to me, her eyes showed shock, curiosity, and thoughtfulness all at once.
I know that when a woman is curious. she's halfway there.
I asked the boys if they wanted to try some of her milk.
Their "Yeah, sure," and "Why not?" came shyly but with a barely hidden eager edge.
I asked them to come sit beside her, and rose to cross the short space to sit where they had been sitting across from us. To my surprise, a small shock wave passing through me and gut-wrench chilling me, when my wife raised both breasts, the boy on her left immediately bowed his head and took her nipple in his mouth. My wife was smiling that broad, happy near grin and satisfied-with-herself smile women get when they're appreciated as women. In a heartbeat the other boy also took a nipple in his mouth.
In short, the four of us were comfortable together. When the first boy who had to taken a breast in his mouth raised his face from her and unabashedly confessed he was "So damned horny," I said, "Ask her."
He was dumstruck. She looked at me, and asked if she could "use (her) hand." I said it was up to her.
From the movement of her shoulders, slight bow forward and the way she looked down as if trying to see into the water, looking to her right, then her left, I knew she looked for, and then took hold of each of them. She later asked the bold one if she could "kiss it."
I stayed across the pool, less than two meters away, and waited until my wife came to me, and the two boys were once again quiet, lying back against the rocks, one of them smiling, both sometimes looking up at the trees and sky, sometimes closing their eyes, as my wife and I cuddled and kissed and caressed.
At a natural hot pool in the Sawtooth Range of the Canadian Rockies, My wife and I were the only ones up to our necks in almost unbearably hot spring water, surrounded by snow and towering trees that almost obscured the starry night. Our baby was swaddled warmly and sound asleep in our van. After our first shivers and shouts on stripping off in the 30-below cold, and settling into the steamy heat, I slipped behind her on the rock shelf and began massaging her back, arms and neck.
Two young men who later told us they were on their way from jobs felling trees in Washington State to their homes in Calgary joined us. Both my wife (24 yrs old) and I (considerably older) surreptitiously appreciated their work hardened bodies as they self-consciously stripped off. As I continued to massage her, occasionally following her ribs around to just under her breasts, causing them to rise into the wavering, sometimes transparent steam off the water, we made polite conversation.
I saw that one of the boys was staring at my wife's breasts. Looking down, I saw that when I now deliberately raised one, little fountains of milk arced a few inches into the water. I said that we have a baby asleep in the van, and that sometimes, when she is too full or maybe, as now, the heat from the hot springs relaxed her, her milk lets down. What I didn't say, is the truth: her milk lets down when our baby is hungry, or when she is aroused.
Both the boys were curious. By then we had become comfortable with them, and they with us. Casually, as from friends in long standing, a string of questions came from the boys, all focused on my wife, her breasts, and mother's milk. Whispering in her ear, I asked my wife if she'd mind them trying some of her milk. Turning her face up to me, her eyes showed shock, curiosity, and thoughtfulness all at once.
I know that when a woman is curious. she's halfway there.
I asked the boys if they wanted to try some of her milk.
Their "Yeah, sure," and "Why not?" came shyly but with a barely hidden eager edge.
I asked them to come sit beside her, and rose to cross the short space to sit where they had been sitting across from us. To my surprise, a small shock wave passing through me and gut-wrench chilling me, when my wife raised both breasts, the boy on her left immediately bowed his head and took her nipple in his mouth. My wife was smiling that broad, happy near grin and satisfied-with-herself smile women get when they're appreciated as women. In a heartbeat the other boy also took a nipple in his mouth.
In short, the four of us were comfortable together. When the first boy who had to taken a breast in his mouth raised his face from her and unabashedly confessed he was "So damned horny," I said, "Ask her."
He was dumstruck. She looked at me, and asked if she could "use (her) hand." I said it was up to her.
From the movement of her shoulders, slight bow forward and the way she looked down as if trying to see into the water, looking to her right, then her left, I knew she looked for, and then took hold of each of them. She later asked the bold one if she could "kiss it."
I stayed across the pool, less than two meters away, and waited until my wife came to me, and the two boys were once again quiet, lying back against the rocks, one of them smiling, both sometimes looking up at the trees and sky, sometimes closing their eyes, as my wife and I cuddled and kissed and caressed.
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