I'll Need to Change the Sheets Pt. 02

"Hi David, you got a mo?"

When Bec called, she always asked if I had a moment to talk. I always did. We'd established a nice arrangement of friends with unusual benefits; walks in the park some days with Danny in the pusher, other days Danny with Gran, and Bec feeding me. We tried not to think about it too much, but every now and then there were tears and doubts. Followed by spectacular make up sex. Wet, milky dripping milk drinking sex. Lots of it.

Bec still breast fed Danny, and she continued to breast feed me. Her breasts seemed to be getting larger, but that might have been me getting greedy, wanting more.

"Sure Bec, what's going on?"

There was always something going on with Bec, often something including Grace, her best buddy from their nursing mums' clinic. I'd not met Grace, but had been promised I'd like her when I did, 'she's a hoot'. She sounded more like a conspiracy. I think she was in the background on this call - I could hear Bec, I could hear noise in the background, I could hear someone being shooed away.

"God, Grace, no... will you just stop?!

"Sorry, David, Grace is being a -"

"Tell him!" I heard another voice, it must have been Grace.

"Tell me what, Bec?"

There was a long silence, suddenly muted. Bec must have been covering her phone. I could still hear indistinct voices, muffled sounds, what sounded like the clunk of a door closing.

Suddenly the line came clear. "Bec, where are you?"

"Locked myself into a toilet cubicle. Grace has gone nuts." Bec giggled. "We're a bit drunk. I'm going to stop drinking. We're at the club. Lady's Night." She paused, with a theatrical or drunken silence, I couldn't tell. "Can't find any ladies, though. No mirrors!" She laughed. I loved hearing Bec laugh, it made me feel alive. She channelled joy into everything she did.

"Bec, you've gone nuts. You called me, remember."

"I did." She suddenly sounded sober, but went on as if her brain wasn't quite connected to her speech centres. "The thing is. I was talking about you. To Grace."

"I'm listening."

"And... I mentioned. Fuck. I'm just going to say this. You. I mentioned the size of your cock."

I was intrigued, but said nothing.

"The thing is... are you still there?"

"Still here, Bec. Still listening."

"I'm a fucking idiot. I said yes."

"Yes to what, Bec?" I thought I knew.

"Sharing you. Our milk. Four tits full of milk."

"Bec?"

"Yes?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"I said yes. When?"

"When?"

"Yes, when?"

"Jesus I'm dumb. You mean when."

I established a day and a time, and a promise to check beforehand, when she was sober.

I knew where, already. I wasn't sure I knew why.

* * * *

"Let me!"

"Grace, no. I'll open it."

Bec's front door opened and she welcomed me in, pushing her body against mine as she always did, her hand affectionately touching my cheek. She tilted her head up for a kiss and her lips were soft. I knew she was smiling, even with my eyes closed. "Hey, love," she said. "Thanks for coming."

Over her shoulder I could see a shorter, rounder woman with a flame of red hair, her curvy body packed into a short, tight skirt. Her cleavage was spectacular, big boobs straining against a pale blue blouse. I could see the lacy top of a dark blue bra. Grace liked blue, it seemed. She'd like my eyes.

"God, Bec, you said he was big, you didn't say he was tall."

"He's not that tall, Grace. You're just ridiculously short. David, this is Grace. Grace, meet David."

Grace came up to me, the top of her head barely reaching my chest. Bec was five six or five seven; this little woman was much shorter, just over five foot, if she was lucky.

"Can I have what she's having?" Grace asked, looking up at me with what could only be described as hunger. She radiated sexuality, positively glowed with it. "A hug, Mister Man, just a hug." Her smile was cheeky. Her boobs were impressive.

Bec let me go, so I took Grace into my arms and wrapped them around her, pulling her close to me. Her big breasts were surprisingly firm against my body - but I suppose she was breast feeding, so they were full of milk. Lactation and bodily fluids being very much the point of our meeting. She tilted her head up to me for a kiss, her eyes sparkling, intelligent and mischievous. Her kiss was curiously chaste, but I liked the cherry flavour on her lips. I'd have to keep my eyes open with this one.

Grace wriggled herself closer. "Probably more than a hug, David, after what Becca's told me about you." Eyes wide open!

She moved away to stand next to Bec. I knew this was theatre, for me to see them side by side. I guessed they'd rehearsed it - they were getting a response from my groin already, because Bec knew what I liked, what fantasies I constructed in my head.

Many times, my belly full of milk, her pussy full of cream, we'd lie on the bed and talk fantasies, hers and mine. Twins and doppelgängers, two peas from the same pod entwined, laced through with opposites and contrasts.

Bec and Grace stood side by side, like Thelma and Louise without the car, but layered over with Alice, the white and red queens, black and white witches, La Maison Rouge; a smorgasbord of magical fantasy and blatant delight. My cock throbbed, just from seeing them together.

Grace was all pale and pastel, the pale blue blouse with the darker shadow of the bra underneath. A tight cream coloured skirt clung to her round hips and thighs, with white stockings. How many big-breasted child-feeding women can wear virginal white stockings? Not many. She was like a plump little Alice in Wonderland, in a short skirt. Her waist was surprisingly small, an hour glass with only ten minutes left. Her choice of colours contrasted with and showed off her flame red hair and astonishing green eyes, emerald green almost, and of course her milky white skin. I suspected, like many shorter women, she projected herself larger than life. Her breasts certainly were.

Bec, by contrast: her body more muscular, longer limbs still firm with the legacy of the sporty girl, with dark hair, suntanned skin. She favoured strong, dark tones like resplendent trees shedding leaves in autumn. Her top was a multiplicity of colours and patterns, rich blues, bright yellows, crimson reds. She wore a long flowing skirt which swirled when she turned. Red stockings, sex red. She might have been wearing a painting.

They were very clever, the two of them, the way tiny details echoed one woman with the other, to counterpoint and highlight selected features. Bec, for example, wore a silk ribbon in her hair and another around her throat that were the exact same colour as Grace's bra. It focused my mind intently, and I imagined them dressing, standing naked before a mirror and adorning each other, one garment at a time, pausing only to suck on a milky nipple.

Grace in turn wore a delicate ruby red stone on a fine chain around her neck, to honour Bec's red stockings; and, I knew, the red of her clitoris when she was highly aroused. I wondered if Grace knew the precise colour, blood red.

"Put your eyes back into your head, David." Bec laughed, pleased with my stunned reaction. "You've no idea how many shops we went to, to find these clothes!"

Grace, meanwhile, was unashamedly studying my groin. "Is that a roll of coins in your pocket?" She looked up at me, blatantly. "Never thought I'd get a chance to say that."

My cock was indeed showing my pleasure, creating a ridge in my pants.

"He's a show-er not a grower, eh Becca?"

"We've not undressed him yet," Bec replied. "You'll see." Her eyes were blatant too, and I saw a dark spread starting from her breasts. She couldn't hide her arousal.

"How are we going to do this?" I asked, a hard thrill starting behind my nipples, making a three way nerve connection straight to the base of my cock. I was already aroused from the idea of this encounter, and seeing the two of them together... I wanted them both, intensely.

And to unwrap Grace for the first time. It occurred to me that she might be unwrapping me, since this was her idea in the first place. Or had they thought about it together, these women, idle chatter suddenly turning serious, lips suddenly dry, looks exchanged the way women exchange looks?

The atmosphere in the room rose a notch as our sexual energies began to feed off each other. Bec went to the front door and quite deliberately locked it. "There," she said. "No interruptions."

"Shall I take him through?" asked Grace.

They'd planned this, down to the practical detail of multiple towels laid out on the bed.

Bec's breasts were dark now under her top, her big nipples sticking to the milk sodden cloth, dark circles showing visibly through her bra. "I'm giving myself away," she said, looking down at her milky boobs.

"Becca, look at these." Grace stood before us, a wide spread of darkness spreading from the centres of her voluptuous breasts. "I'm starting to flow already. You were right."

She looked at me. "Jesus, fuck, this is hot. I'm going to be yours, lover boy, to do what you wickedly want." Grace came towards me. "You sure meant it, Becca, when you said what happened to you. This is fucking filthy. I love it. My tits feel amazing."

Grace stopped in front of me and methodically undid all the buttons of my shirt. Bec tugged it up from my pants, then flicked it back off my shoulders where it dropped to the floor.

"I think we should undress David first, then he can undress me, then you. Save you till last, Grace, since he's already seen me nude." It sounded like Bec had it all worked out. "Naked male, clothed females. It's a kink with initials, apparently."

My agenda was simple. I wanted to fuck them both, see them fuck each other, drink down their milk, have them fuck me. I'd let them milk me, if they wanted. My cock was heavy, ridged thick against my pants, and I could already feel that deep throb of heaviness in my balls. Whatever they did would suit me.

"Sit here, David." Grace led me to a chair next to the dressing table in Bec's bedroom and made me sit on it, her hand pressing down on my shoulder. She flipped her mane of hair to one side and placed herself on my lap. Her fleshy weight was confusing - she was heavy and soft at the same time. She didn't so much sit on my lap, more cover it. I felt I would sink into her, like lying on a comfortable pillow. She'd envelop me. I felt my cock thicken - my hardness into her softness - the idea of it was enticing.

"Becca told me what you did when she was younger. That's filthy wicked, David." Grace ground her crotch down against mine. "Filthy fucking wicked, lover. Do it to me."

I glanced across at Bec, who was lying on the bed, watching. She'd already pulled the band in her hair back tight. She nodded. "Tell her the story, so she knows I didn't make it all up."

"When Bec was younger," I started, "she'd sit on my lap every Friday night down the Rec Centre, while the younger teams played their games. Not this way around, she always faced away from me." Grace tweaked and pulled on my nipples as I spoke, her eyes watching my mouth, devouring my words.

"She'd grind her ass back onto me, the pleats of her netball skirt hiding her movement, hiding my arousal."

Grace stopped playing with my chest and slid her crotch forward against the ridge of my thick prick. "Like this?" she whispered, her softness enclosing me.

"Facing away," I replied. "I could feel the heat of her ass, her hot pussy. She'd spread herself wide. Pushing her tight little ass back against my crotch."

"Did she Indeed?" Grace looked across to Bec for confirmation, then leaned forward to whisper in my ear. "I don't mind a thick prick in my back hole. And fingers in my cunt."

She leaned backwards, grinding herself back against me to get a deep sensation in her core, and so she could see my face. I guess my lust was transparent, or she'd felt a give-away pulse, for she winked and tapped the side of her nose twice, filing the secrets away.

"Did you do anything with the naughty girl?"

I shook my head, no.

Grace looked over to Bec again. "You wanted to, though, didn't you?"

I nodded.

"He could be your slave, Becca, if you wanted that."

She got up from my lap, knelt before me, looking up at me with big eyes as she undid the buckle of my belt.

I tried to embrace her body, but she moved away. "Uh uh uhh," she said. "Don't be impatient. If I can wait, so can you."

Grace went over to the bed and lay down. It was her turn to watch. Seeing her pneumatic curves, I wondered just how much milk a woman could produce. Grace had tits full of milk, that was certain, and I could see that Bec's breasts were full too. I would drown in their hot sweet milk, spurting and dripping, warm in my mouth and my belly.

Bec came over to my chair and placed one foot up on the seat. She pulled up the hem of her skirt so that it fell between her legs, revealing one muscular thigh clad in the red lace stocking, and the red strap of a garter belt. I could smell her sex, her arousal, but couldn't see the hot place where it came from.

"We've talked about it, David, Grace and I. How we're not quite as perverted as you, but there's two of us, which makes up for it. Even though you're sort of mine, I'm fine with Grace having you. What are friends for, if not sharing?"

Bec looked back over her shoulder at Grace on the bed. "Do you like it, that she's so different to me? All those curves. It's a different kind of sexy, don't you think?" She placed two fingers on each of my nipples. I thought she'd pinch them if I gave the wrong answer.

"She is. Sexy and hot. I can't wait to cup her belly and bum cheeks in my hands, feel her soft flesh. Bury my cock between those tits." Suffocate between her plump thighs, drown in her chubby sex. Grace wasn't my usual kind of a body shape, but I realised that was a stupid prejudice. She was every part a woman, just in some areas, more so.

I thought Grace had a penchant for lechery, and I suspected she could be quite inventive. I wanted her to fuck me, her way. I found myself wanting to give myself up to these women, let them take control.

Bec laughed. "He's so polite, Grace. He doesn't want to say he'll bang the chubby chick just because she's in the room."

"Don't worry about me, Becca. He won't want to miss out when I offer what I'm going to offer. I've got what men want."

"What's that, Grace?" Bec fed her the line.

"A fine mind." She must have read mine. She tapped her nose again, twice, to remind me of secrets.

"You two," Bec said, "can recite poems together.

"Meanwhile..." She flicked the hem of her skirt up and placed herself on my lap, her legs spread to drive her hidden sex against my mound. "Hands under," she said, "spread my cheeks apart."

I did as I was told, lifting the skirt so Grace could see what I was doing. I loved Bec's firm ass, its solidity, and wanted to show it off. I gripped her cheeks, pulling her body down onto mine, spreading her cheeks wide as I did so.

Bec took my face in her hands, kissing me with a slow swirling thrust of her tongue. Each time I gripped a cheek of her ass and squeezed, she'd tongue fuck me, forcing my mouth. Point, counter point, squeeze, throb and thrust. Bec pressed her breasts against me, and the milk soaked cloth was hot and cold. The stickiness spread to my skin. I could smell her milk and the scent of her sex. It was heady and sensual, like walking in a tropical greenhouse with strong scented flowers.

Bec stopped kissing me, sat back a little, and suddenly pulled the clinging wet top up over her head. I heard Grace gasp, taking in a quick breath. Bec flicked her ponytail free from the tangle of the top, and pulled the band tighter. She wore a scarlet red bra to match her stockings. I looked down to her breasts, and saw the satin cups were a darker red around her thick nipples, where the milk seeped through.

"I thought I'd wear red for you, David, to be your scarlet tart, your fuckable girl. I know you like bright colours." Somehow, she made slut sex red sound innocent, like a child's box of blocks. Or was I susceptible to colours? Everything in the room seemed sharper, more intense.

"You're fucking gorgeous, Becca." Grace sounded almost in awe. "Take her skirt off, David, so we can see more of her."

Undressing Bec was as much for Grace as it was for me.

My mind flashed on a vision of Grace's red hair spread across Bec's belly, her hands on Bec's thighs, spreading them wide, Bec moaning. My brain was churning with images and ideas, and my cock felt thick but constrained. I wanted to show myself off, be naked in front of these women, lose whatever inhibitions I had left. If I had any left to lose.

I undid the zip on the side of Bec's skirt, and she stood up, still facing me. The skirt slid down her legs. Grace sighed. Bec smiled. "Looking pretty good, huh?"

She stood between me on the chair and Grace on the bed and looked fabulous. Sexy, healthy, her mothering body curved where it should be, nicely rounded where it wasn't, her skin glowing in the afternoon light that came streaming through the window. Clad in her red lingerie, a tiny satin triangle covering her pussy, with those firm legs in those red stockings, she was -

"Fucking sexy, Becca, fucking hot." Grace said it for both of us.

"Stand up, lover," she went on, "so Becca can take those damn pants off, they're spoiling my view." She sat forward on the bed, eager anticipation in her eyes. "Show your little fuck toy what you've got. Jesus, Becca, you should have wrapped him in a ribbon."

Grace was unashamed in voicing her thoughts, and my mind swirled around mine. As if drugged, I stood, not quite knowing what to do next.

Bec did. She stood behind me, pressing her body against my back, glueing herself to me. She ran strip-teaser's hands over my chest and arms, skated fingers across the front of my pants. She was showing my body off to Grace. She flicked up my tight nipples, each between two fingers, like taking a delicacy from a plate, then rubbed her palms against them. She reached down for my belt, already undone. She slowly pulled it loose from the loops, and, looking directly at Grace, let it hang down my chest from one shoulder.

I saw Grace's eyes flare, and a tension in Bec behind me. Something shifted in the room, and I was suddenly aware of silence broken only by my own breathing. The moment held for five or six seconds.

"Put your hands behind your back, lover," Grace said softly. "It's time."

Stunned at the change in direction, but unashamedly giving in to them, I place my hands behind me. Bec wrapped the belt around my wrists and buckled them together. Not too tight, but enough that I couldn't loosen the belt myself. I could feel her fingers shaking as she did so, tension quivering in her body.

She put her mouth to my throat and whispered in my ear. "I've not done this before, I don't know what I'm doing. But we've agreed. 'Stop' means stop, 'No' means no. For all of us." She licked her lips, suddenly dry. "We've probably not thought it through very well, but that's what we're doing. Isn't that right, Grace?" she asked, to get confirmation.

"Yes, that's right. David?" Grace was equally serious. They'd discussed it, and we had to get this said first. I didn't know Grace, but I knew Bec, had known her as a teenage girl. She'd trusted me implicitly then, I trusted her implicitly now.

"Yes, that's right. Stop and no." I gave my assent to the arrangement. I wasn't going to say no, but Bec would have undone the belt if I had. I knew that better than I knew myself.

A stab of arousal shot behind my nipples. What if I didn't want them to stop?

"Let's see him then, Becca, this man of yours."

I wondered if Grace had done this before, or if she intuitively knew what to say. The feeling in the room shifted, settled, dropped a notch from a dangerous edge to the decadent promise of pleasure that had always been there. It wasn't the first time something sharper had gone through my mind, but somehow I knew: not with these women. They were the mothering kind.