Nursing The Man Of The House

By Molly Milch

“Feed from me! Taste my milk!”

I had only met him a few hours ago, and yet I knew from the way he looked at my full, leaking boobs that he would want to suckle me!

And how I wanted him to!

Could we complete our feeding and love making frenzy, right there under his wife’s nose?

A naughty and taboo older man hucow lactation erotic book for adults

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alice B Handcock
• Release date: Jun 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463565858

Book preview

NURSING THE MAN OF THE HOUSE

A Molly Milch Original Publication

© Molly Milch 2020

THIS PUBLICATION REMAINS COPYRIGHT MOLLY MILCH 2020. NOT TO BE REPRODUCED IN ANY FORM WITHOUT PRIOR CONSENT

All characters are over 18 and not related by blood or marriage

It was my second time babysitting for this couple. David and Lucy, Mr and Mrs Perfect with their wonderful house and their amazing life.

But little did Lucy know it, tonight was the night when I would fuck her ‘wonderful’ husband.

I just knew it.

If she had known my intentions, she might just have bailed on their date night. I mean, a pretend headache and missing a crap movie and an average meal, that’s got to be better than losing your husband to a tight, teen babysitter.

Right?

CHAPTER ONE

You see, I am a young woman who has a very good sense of what she wants. And tonight, I wanted David. I mean, I really wanted David!

I didn’t have so many clues to go on, if I am honest about it. He was polite, charming, that was certain, but something told me he was like that with every woman he met. The first time I had seen him, he exuded a kind of relaxed ease that was quite disarming. He had welcomed me on the doorstep, just one week ago, with a cheery smile and a wink that was like being filled with hot chocolate sauce.

Hello there he oozed, his voice playing hell with my hormonal body. You must be Brandy. Well, don’t stand out there in the cold, why don’t you come on in?

His face was classically good looking, perfect teeth and an easy smile, piercing blue eyes and just a trace of grey at the temples of his jet black hair. He was maybe six foot, and concealed beneath his silk shirt and tailored pants a body that would have made an NFL athlete very proud. He wasn’t pumped though, just a hint of bulge in his biceps, and a certain way of carrying himself.

He ushered me through to the living room and on