[TW: dub-con, mirror sex, cockwarming while massaging clogged breasts. This is straight up nasty y'all]
Extended version of this ask
A whimper escapes your lips as his hands wrap around your chests, slowly rubbing your tender breasts in circle motions.
"How did it get so clogged, hm?" He mused after he watched dots of white began to form on your nipples, "Did you forget to use the pump?"
You shake your head, while your palms anchor themselves on his thighs. A sharp pain hits your swollen bud when he squeezes the milk out, which gushes out in a pitiful spurt.
"The baby didn't drink much." You gripped his thighs when he massaged it for the second time, "She's been sleeping all day."
"Oh." He replied with a grunt, "Such a waste."
You moan when you feel his mouth latches on your exposed neck—sucking on the delicate skin, just as he did with your nipples earlier. The tips of your breasts are so sore, that you can't help but whine every time they're being touched.
You keep your head to the side, squeezing your eyes shut. From both pain and the sight of you in the mirror. It's humiliating enough to have him taking care of your breasts, you don't have to add it by seeing the reflection of yourself. While the vanity mirror does a good job hiding the lower part of your body, it couldn't blur out your exposed chests. The camisole dress that you wore is bunched up around your waist, leaving the upper and lower areas of your body uncovered.
"Stop," You softly groan, "It hurts."
"Hold on for a minute," He kisses the reddening skin of your nape, "It'll be over soon."
You're too tired to resist, so you sit back and let him do his work.
He strokes the underside of your breasts from base to the tip, while his thumbs stay on your areolas. He does it several times, before he pinches the nipples. You don't know how he does it, but the milk flows out plenty this time. As it squirts out to the table, and onto your thighs. Staining the mirror and your dress with cloudy liquid.
The streams become lessened the moment he eases the pressure, and he lets them drip out to his hands. You feel him throbbing inside of you when the milk runs down on his skin, and you whimper when he bucks his hips slightly.
He raises from the seat as he pushes you down by your head, until your chests are flat against the table. He drags his hands from your breasts to your waists, holding them in a firm grip. You didn't realize how wet you've became, until you heard a squelch when he thrust his cock into you.
"Little one looks lonely by herself, doesn't she?" He said with a grin, "Why don't we, ah, give her a friend to play with?"










