Kevin Kim Ch. 01: The Ambush

***Author's Note: This is the beginning of a much longer story I'd written years ago, so I figured I'd just upload it as a long-time Literotica reader/first-time poster situation. Like many of my other stories that will likely be posted, this deals with interracial relationships of all kinds, so if that's not your cup of tea it's best just to bail now. I also don't tiptoe around race or sociopolitical viewpoints in general, so again, if you fall too far one way or another on any social spectrum, don't bother with my stories. Thanks.***

Oblivious prey; she had no idea what was in store for her.

I'd been watching her for weeks now, observing her daily routine, watching her cavort around without seemingly a care in the world. Watching her walk through life as if I wasn't stalking her intently.

She was a proud specimen, tall and mahogany, thick braids running down to her shoulders. An athlete's build to be sure, with thick thighs and slightly wider shoulders, high calves, and sculpted arms. Her ass was nice and fat without the oft-present cellulite on others of the same size, and it rolled magnificently in her tight yoga pants. A narrow waist, toned midsection, and pretty face were all well and good to round out the package, but they weren't my target. Her sweet, luscious, dick-sucking lips would surely turn a man of my inclinations on in any other situation, but again, I was after something greater. Well, somethings greater, to be more direct.

This chick had a rack. Not in a "Oh, those are nice" blip on a breast man's radar, more of a "Sweet fucking goodness, I just blew my load" type of way. They were magnificent, and try as she might, there was no hiding those jugs. She was wearing an active tank-top to go with the yoga pants as she'd just come from the gym, but the top and sports bra underneath struggled mightily to keep her chest from bobbling about. Struggled and failed, as I watched her chest bounce with each step. The weather was nice and warm, but even at my distance I could see the two distinct peaks of her fat nipples poking through the layers of restrictive clothing. That brickhouse of a body was rocking G-cups at the very least, and sitting in the stroller directly in front of her was the likely reason.

Despite her fit-looking body, the woman had given birth a few months back and was also obviously nursing. She was gifted with extraordinary milk tanks as a result, and that cream was my ultimate goal. I'd been a lactophile since I was a teen, the result of a random comedy sketch suggesting a busty waitress using her own milk as coffee creamer. The idea excited me immensely, turning an existing obsession with all things mammary into a desperate need to see them perform their intended function. These things weren't ever to be discussed as I grew up, one of the many consequences of growing up in a near-stifling Asian household. Therein was the kicker: I wanted this woman so badly my balls ached, but the odds of me conquering her were slim-to-none.

I didn't need to know much about her to know what she'd probably think of me. Not that I'm unattractive in any way, mind you, I just knew her type. I'd struck out countless times with girls like her, none of them expecting the Korean boy trying to "hit" ever being capable of doing so. I'd worked out religiously, getting so cut I looked like an NBA player. I had the tattoos, swagger, and pretty boy charm to match, but it got me damned near nothing with them other than an occasional "you're cute". A 6'2", hyper-fit, well-funded lawyer meant nothing to them, and everyone knew why.

So what's a guy supposed to do? Ever since Shonda Washington flashed me behind the bleachers on a dare, I'd made up my mind on what I liked and who I liked them on. I'd wanted Black girls right around the same time I realized how much I loved tits, but getting either proved difficult, while both was nearly impossible. Even if I was desperate enough to turn to family for visual assistance, my mom, sister, and virtually all my female relatives were severely lacking up front. I also go to learn the hard way that just because the internet will give you plenty of fantasy material, sometimes reality lets you know precisely how much a fantasy it'll remain. Well, after years of swinging and missing whilst my thirst only grew, I saw fit to quench it myself.

Her physical prowess notwithstanding, my prey led a predictable lifestyle. She left her decent-sized suburban home around nine each day, hit the gym for an hour, then went shopping at the local farmer's market for produce. After having lunch at one of the many eateries in the town square, she'd always drive to a secluded spot near the river to nurse her child. She'd stay in her sedan, keeping the heavily tinted windows up high enough to block view of what she was doing, but low enough to keep the fresh spring breeze flowing through the vehicle. Once the child was fed, she was off to her house to change, then back out to a local community college to teach evening classes. She'd arrive home around eight or nine each night, and rarely was the husband around at that time. Three locations where she was guaranteed to be, and three locations to see my desires through.

I watched her push the stroller back to her car after lunch, her ass cheeks fighting to be freed from their lycra prison. I lost myself in their bounce for a while, imagining them slapping against my hips as I rode her like a mare in the rodeo. She'd be a feisty one to tame, that much I knew just from the way the muscles in her calves tensed with each step. It would be a battle, but one that I'd put every bit of my physique into winning. I watched her load the baby up then hop into her sedan, so at that point I made my way into the forest.

I knew her spot very well, knew where she always parked and why. Our town was safe, near-Utopian with regards to crime. Everything sordid went down nearly thirty miles away, so she wasn't coming to the park for safety: She came for privacy. She didn't want people seeing her unleash those gigantic baby feeders, didn't want the leering eyes that she was guaranteed to earn from even hinting that she was opening the tap on her milk tanks. I can't say that I blame her, as the older men that frequent the park were bound to strike up seemingly innocent conversations just to get a glimpse of her bounty. Unfortunately for her, that nice, secluded spot for would in turn be her undoing.

I took my time working through the foliage, as I knew the circuitous park roads she had to drive afforded me plenty of time. I made sure that my bandana was nice and snug over the lower part of my face, checked to make sure my sleeve tattoos were covered, then took a selfie to verify that my sunglasses hid any hint of my eyes. Everything was good; I looked the proper criminal. Even so, my heart still raced at the danger involved. Here I was, a successful lawyer, and I was about to commit an act scummier than most of the scumbags I'd represented would even consider. I reconsidered for a moment, the rational part of my brain kicking in after weeks of planning, but then her car pulled up.

I picked a copse of trees nearby where I could watch her, though little could be seen from the neck down. I could only guess what was going on beyond the dark tint, taking cues from her movements and the way that she looked down at what I assumed was the child sucking at her thick nozzles. After nearly twenty minutes of waiting patiently, my temper got the best of me.

"Lucky little son of a bitch," I muttered in jealousy, but I was apparently too loud. She turned quickly, scanning the brush nearby for the source of sound from an idiot who just didn't know how to be a proper criminal. I froze in response and hoped that she wouldn't spot me if I remained completely static, but the idea was somewhat half-cocked. I was wearing all black, and the trees were all a vibrant green.

"She's not a fucking T-Rex," I mentally admonished myself. "You're super-obvious, you dumbass."

She continued to look in my direction, and there we remained for an uncomfortable amount of time. She continued to search nervously, I continued to not move as best I could, and for a long time the only sound that could be heard was the river's burbling as the wind played through the leaves. Eventually the baby cried out, so when the mother looked down to attend to her child, I dropped to the ground and peered through a large bush.

She switched the baby to the other breast then just watched the child, apparently giving up on her search for the muttering pervert hiding in the bushes. A few minutes later the baby seemed to be done, so the mother covered up, hopped out of the car, then placed the already sleeping child in the backseat. This was when my prey typically spent a few minutes scrolling through her phone, so when she pulled the device up while lowering her window, I went on the offensive.

I slowly stood from the bushes, my heart practically cartwheeling out of my chest as I psyched myself up for what I was about to do. I moved slowly and deliberately out of the vegetation, but when she turned to look at a fox darting across a meadow to her right, I rushed forward, quickly closing the distance to the car door.

"Who are..." she started, but I reached through the window then completely lowered the glass.

"Don't fucking worry about who I am," I growled back. I reached into the car and snatched her keys away, placing them on the roof of the vehicle before looking back down at her. There was a moment of silence as I lost myself in her cleavage, practically a canyon of tit flesh leading down into her top.

"What...what do you want?" she asked meekly, "I don't have any cash, but you can take my phone if that's what you're after. I'll give you the car if you want, just please don't hurt me or my son."

"I don't want your stupid car," I answered as gruffly as I could. "I don't want your phone, either. I'm not after your cash at all, lady."

"Then..." she started before pulling away a bit. "Please don't hurt me," she said again, though this time with a bit of fear.

"Do what I say, and this won't hurt at all."

She looked up at me nervously, obviously not trusting my words. "What do you want?" my prey asked quietly, a question that sent a jolt to my nuts.

"Take your fucking tits out," I ordered, and her eyes went wide.

"I...I can't," she nearly whispered, "I'm nursing my son..."

"Take...them...out..." I repeated menacingly, and she nodded slowly. Her hands slowly reached up to lower each tank top strap, and when she pulled the fabric down, I took a huge breath. Her breasts were just begging to be released from the hot pink sports bra, but that alone wasn't what had me going. Each nipple was jutting through the protective padding, and around each peak was a ring of saturation.

She hesitated upon noticing my excitement, her big brown eyes pleading with me to reconsider. "I'm nursing..." she tried again, but when I reached down and gently put my hand around her throat, she got the picture. Her fingers found the zipper at the front of her overburdened sports bra, and after one more glance up at me, she pulled the zipper down. The weight of her breasts overpowered the flaps once the zipper was undone, pushing the fabric aside and exposing her magnificent chest to me.

"Holy fucking shit," I whispered in absolute awe. I stared down into her car as her massive, proud tits jut out from her chest in all their glory. She was definitely in G-cup territory with only the slightest hint of sag, undoubtedly from the weight of the milk within. Her large chocolate nipples glistened in the midday light, each one wet with the remnants of her white gold. Her wide areolae sat as almost perfect dark brown circles against the lighter skin of her breasts, making the pearly white milk dribbling from her nipples all the more brilliant.

"Is...is this what you wanted?" she asked with shame, but when her hands started coming up to hide her nakedness, my hand tightened around her throat. She dropped her hands in understanding then looked up at me once more. "I don't know what else you could--"

"You know what the fuck I want," I snapped, and she cowered a bit at my hostility.

"But...my son," came the protest, so I pointed back to the sleeping child.

"Looks to me like he's had his fill, yet you've definitely got plenty more to give." I rubbed my hands together in anticipation, but she shook her head after working out my intentions.

"I'm not going to nurse a grown man," she replied, her eyes narrow and a bit of indignation in her voice. "My son is the only one who will feed from me; I refuse to let some random pervert place his lips on my child's source of sustenance. Not even my husband drinks from me, and he's the reason I have milk. No."

I glared in anger at her sudden resistance, but then I realized that I was wearing shades, thus the reaction was lost on her. "First of fucking all, I'm not asking, you understand?" I hissed. She continued staring up at me, but there was no response. "Yeah, you understand. Secondly, if I wanted to lap up that tit cream all day, I would because I can. But I don't want to suck your tits, I'm just here to milk you like the blue-ribbon heifer that you are."

Her eyes widened in shock before narrowing once more. "And if I scream?" she posited. "What happens if I decide to let everyone in the park know about your sick game?"

"You and I both know that nobody's going to hear you," I countered with a self-satisfied smirk, though that too went unseen and was also ultimately pointless.

"You picked this spot so that nobody got a look at your big milk-bloated teats, and that's exactly why I'm going to work them over at my leisure. Now put your hands at your sides, and don't you dare fucking move."

She looked up at me long and hard, seeming to vacillate between following my orders and making good on her threat to scream. In the end, though, she knew that I was right. After a sigh of resignation, she placed her arms at her sides, giving me free access to her fleshy wonders. "Just...please be gentle," she whispered, but I scoffed at the request.

"You and your fat tits were made for this," I growled before reaching into the car and rubbing the top of her right breast. Nice and firm despite the size, loaded down with her precious nectar. "Seems like your son did a shit job of draining you."

"Look at the size of my tits, genius," she shot back testily. "Nothing short of an industrial pump is going to properly drain me, but doesn't that work out for you? Isn't that what you've obviously been stalking me for, you freak?"

"Watch your mouth!" I hissed as I squeezed her areola, but the rest of my tough talk fell away when multiple streams of milk flowed from her nipple and over my gloved fingers. My prey fidgeted in her seat while I stood frozen, unable to do anything but stare at the prize I'd so long desired. I'd finally done it, finally reached my own private promised land, but time was fleeting and I couldn't afford to stand around like a tit holding a tit.

"You'd best remember who's in charge here," I continued with as much authority as I could muster, but my voice wavered with excitement. I used my thumb and forefinger to pinch her chocolate areola, and my dick lurched when I was rewarded with a few more dribbles of pearly white milk. I continued in that fashion, my left hand pinching as my right held her against the seat, but she was clearly becoming distressed.

"What, you stupid bi...?" I started before she looked up at me, her scowl cutting my pejorative short. "I mean, what?

"This isn't going to work, that's what. My pump usually runs for at least twenty minutes at its highest setting after nursing, and I'm fuller than normal today. You're going to get caught, so good luck explaining this to the cops."

"Well what the fuck do you want me to do?" I snapped instinctively, in turn losing even more control of the situation.

She looked up at me shrewdly, glanced down at my breast-filled left hand, then back up at me. "Are you...what?!" she asked in disbelief. "Have you thought any of this shit through? What was the point of you planning out this little ambush molestation if you had no idea what to do when you got to this point?"

Things were going sideways on me fast, and for a while I just stared down at her dumbly. She clearly didn't fear me enough to keep her mouthy nature in check, nor was I the type to bring any weapons to up the fear factor. All I had was the physical advantage and an overwhelming urge to make my fantasies a reality, but I then realized that I was holding the key to taking back the advantage.

I reached my right hand over to grab her other breast. "You know what, you're right," I said easily. "I never bothered to work out the details of how to make this happen. You wanna know what I thought I was supposed to do?"

She looked up at me distrustfully, her head pulling back a bit. "What?" she asked carefully, and I chuckled at the setup.

"This," I answered before squeezing my fingers around her areola and pressing my hand toward her ribcage. Half a dozen white streams sprayed from her nipple, sprinkling the steering wheel with her fresh milk. I repeated the process, gathering more of her lower breast in my palm as I squeezed a bit harder. Her milk sprayed farther this time, the translucent streams arcing through her steering wheel to hit the gauge cluster. The milky white fountain was absolutely beautiful, and I was amazed that I'd managed to keep my load from firing out of a now rock-hard erection.

My prey fidgeted in her seat as I continued milking her onto her steering wheel, and I smiled at the result of my ministrations. "The cow enjoys being milked, does she?" I asked before pressing then holding a breast tightly, and the sustained streams of milk sprayed far enough to sprinkle the dashboard.

"I wouldn't give you the pleasure," she replied quietly, but I got her to whimper upon tweaking her hard left nipple. "The pressure can get unbearable when I'm most engorged, though, so I'll take the relief even if it has to be by some sick bastard's hand."

"Hands," I corrected as I reached my left hand into the car to grab her left breast. I squeezed both knockers at the same time, earning another burst of milk from her right while her left sprayed the door panels. Her squirming increased as I kept my hands working her heavy breasts over, and I grinned after taking full advantage of the situation.

"Yeah, that's right," I said smugly, "I wanna see you dance as I drain these sweet tits of yours. I don't even know why you tried to hide these big black dairy farms, you're obviously proud of 'em."

"I don't know..." she started to retort, but it ended in another whimper as I squeezed her nipples upward to spray her face with her own milk.

"You know exactly what I mean, whore. I've seen you around town, seen you bouncing these fuck-sacks all over the place while pretending like you're not trying to show off. I've seen you in your tight, low-cut shirts, knowing everyone was trying to get an eyeful of all that intentional cleavage. You trying to tell me it's all one big accident? Or two, to be more precise."

"And if I was?" she answered breathlessly, her hands squeezing the sides of her seat as I tugged at her thick brown nipples. "What does it matter to you? I dare you to try taking the moral high road on this one, because considering what you're doing right now, you don't really have any room to talk. Me showing off my chest is nothing compared to this twisted assault."

Well, she had me there. I hadn't planned on throwing anything too judgmental in her face, but I'd lined up a few comments critical of her lack of inhibitions as a power play. Then again, I had also hidden in the bushes, patiently waited and watched a woman nurse a child, and then ran up to forcibly milk her while the kid slept in the back seat. As far as morality went, I was ranking pretty low on the scale.