Mother's Milk Pt. 01

Part One.

Heather sighed as she folded the clean laundry and stared despondent at the old analogue clock on the basement wall. It read a quarter to seven in the morning and already she felt as though the ticking second hand was shaving curls off the rest of her life like a slowly whirling whittling tool.

She knew she should be happy. Told herself that things were better here in Pittsburgh. Asked herself how many middle-aged women got a second chance at marriage and a stable future with a dependable man?

Dependable.

Was that the best she could come up with for her new husband Paul?

Had she donned the white dress, said "I do" and relocated her entire existence from Plainview, Nebraska to the East Coast for "dependable?"

It sure felt like it as she folded his tighty-whities and paired his business socks into the wicker basket by her elbow. That had only been a year ago, how had the passion and excitement evaporated so quickly? Leaving her struggling with... well, dependable.

Perhaps Heather had been too keen, desperate even? Plainview was the prototypical mid-west country town hidden behind miles of swaying green and gold cornfields deep in the heart of the cornhusk state. The population barely broke four digits and the most exciting event of the year was the Klown Festival held by the Plainview Doll Museum every June.

That kind of said everything anyone needed to about the place.

But it was where she had been born, schooled, knocked up by her hightailing high-school sweetheart and raised her beloved daughter Gemma. Plainview was where Heather had earned her BA in business accounting (online of course) and took over managing the Hillcrest Motel on North Fifth. It wasn't the Hilton by any means, only a squat brick slab of ten tidy rooms bordering the highway but it was where she met Paul.

Heather sighed and placed another neatly folded business shirt into the laundry basket.

Paul had seemed so different, dare she say dashing, when compared to the weathered farmers and fieldhands that made up the vast majority of the small town's ninety-eight percent sunbleached population.

He looked to have a touch of the Spaniard in his heritage--was that okay to say? Heather was never certain--with his thick, black curls and dark chocolate eyes. He wore chino trousers and sports jackets instead of the unavoidable denim and hard-wearing flannel. Paul was an engineer from the Big Smoke and had stayed at the motel for three months while on contract with Husker AG, performing skilled maintenance on the looming ethanol plant on the outskirts of town.

The beginnings of their whirlwind romance had been more akin to a gentle stirring breeze.

Paul had checked in and asked for the best place to grab breakfast. Heather had told him about Serendipity on Locust Ave and recommended the snickerdoodle coffee. She hadn't missed the appreciative looks he gave her mature corn-fed curves and shiny golden hair before thanking her and accepting the key to his room. His hand had lingered on hers for a while longer than necessary.

The next day Paul thanked her as he passed reception, leaving a steaming take-away cup of the famously sweet morning brew on the desk for Heather on his way to work.

They had struck up idle conversation each morning and most evenings as they both came and went about their daily schedules. Slowly opening to each other through mutual attraction and finding common ground to tread together. Paul was a widower with a son starting college where Heather was a single mother with a daughter nearing graduation at veterinary school.

"She must be both clever and beautiful with a mother like you." He had commented with a wink after she spouted proudly over Gemma's accomplishments.

Flirting had been fun.

Heather had forgotten the delayed gratification of making herself up and dressing down a little to catch a particular man's eye. The rougher sorts in town weren't the type to appreciate the extra effort. She had gone shopping for a few crisp white blouses and a new gray pencil skirt that hugged her fuller figure nicely. Heather had even gone so far as to replace her old horn-rimmed glasses with some trendy wire frames and started wearing her long hair up, just so she could let it down when she spotted him staring.

Sexy librarian was still a thing, right? She had tried looking it up online and nearly died of embarrassment at some of the search results.

Casual flirting rapidly snowballed into semi-serious dating, including some daring heavy petting on a picnic blanket in front of the bandshell at the annual harvest festival.

Then inevitably... sex.

A torrid, if admittedly brief, evening of fumbling, giggly intercourse after a shared bottle of wine at Mary's Steakhouse marked their first joining. They were both out of practice but had remained clear-headed enough to use protection and it had felt... nice. As much to be desired by such an empathetic kindred spirit, if not necessarily from the pleasurable sensations of the physical act itself.

It had still been a mid-life sexual reawakening for Heather and opened libidinous floodgates shut far too long. Who knew that stealing time for frantic little quickies in your lunch break could be so much fun?

But the end of Paul's work contract had hung like the sword of Damocles over their budding relationship. They were both aware that their time together was finite and told each of as much until a week before the dreaded date of departure when Paul had pushed aside a young couple at check-in, dropped to one knee and asked her to marry him.

The rest had been history.

Depressingly recent history.

Heather placed a second stack of crisply folded clothing atop the first, lifted the basket onto her wide hip and headed for the basement stairs.

The honeymoon period had ended almost as fast as the honeymoon they didn't have time for. It was as though the fragile snowglobe of Plainview in which their romance had bloomed had shattered when Paul brought her back to Pittsburgh, splintering apart as the reality of his home and demands of his professional life returned to him.

He had introduced her to his son Sean, a handsome younger image of Paul who was home for the semester break from college, in the most awkward way possible. Heather had quickly sensed a rift between the two, probably caused by the premature death of Paul's wife and Sean's mother. Cancer was a terrible burden on a family and she could tell that the two men had been scarred badly by the tragic loss.

Heather had done the best she could.

She was a stranger in a strange land. Ripped from her country-life comfort zone and dropped into a metropolitan melting pot of people, art and culture for which she was woefully unprepared. Only her regular calls and messages to her more socially savvy daughter Gemma had kept Heather afloat on the unfamiliar tide of Big City life.

Well... Gemma and her new stepson, of course.

Sean had been attentive, kind even, as Paul had buried himself in his work. The young man shared his father's thick hair and strong chin but lacked the wear and accumulated weight of advancing years. He offered to show her around. Explaining the excessive prevalence of local delis and the importance of primanti sandwiches to Heather in excruciating detail.

She had warmed to Sean as his father's martial ardor had cooled like the first snowfall of December.

Which made it doubly uncomfortable when she heard the soft wet repetitive sounds coming from beyond her stepson's bedroom door as she approached, laundry basket tucked under her arm.

Heather wasn't naive. When you ran the only motel in a small country town you heard the noises and changed the sheets at the housekeeping call the next day. Sean was a healthy young man and that meant...

His door was ajar.

It was only opened a sliver but it was enough that if Heather slowed in passing she might... but no, that would mean intruding on Sean's privacy and certainly be overstepping a boundary as the maternal figure in their newly combined family.

Heather heard a quiet groan and her nipples ached in echo to the throaty sound. She swore under her breath as she felt twin spots of dampness bloom in the heavy cups of her white satin bra.

The fertility treatment was playing merry hell with her hormone levels and for the thousandth time in the last few months she questioned why she was still taking the bothersome pills.

Paul had been so eager to cement their new life together with a third child. One born of both of them and since neither one of them was young anymore, pharmaceutical assistance had seemed a prudent precaution.

That was before the unexplainable cooling of their love-life, and now there were days Heather felt like a horned-up teen again with breasts that swollen painfully large and tended to leak. It was a real problem.

"Oh yeah, that's it. Just like that..."

The words were low and husky. Barely reaching Heather's ears as she crept closer to her stepson's door. Why was she sneaking? It wasn't as though she were going to peek. If anything she should stomp loudly and whistle a tune to give the poor boy warning to hide his indiscretion.

It wasn't Sean's fault. It was still early and the healthy young man likely thought that he had a few moments alone before the household awakened. He didn't know that a persistent throbbing in Heather's lower half and an unhelpfully drowsy husband had driven the needy new bride down into the basement to clean a load of dirty laundry.

Cleaned it in the top-loader washer that rattled and shook in just the right way if you sat on the closed lid and tried not to moan like a two dollar whore.

Maybe she would steal a quick glance, just to confirm her suspicions and make sure he wasn't doing anything strange or harmful to himself. Heather wasn't what those unlikely alternatives might be as she pressed the hamper to her sensitive mounds, covering the wet splotches on her sheer pink pajama top and feeling her hardened nips rub excitedly against the varnished wicker.

Hadn't some famous rock star or another been found dead hanging from a doorknob with his pants around his knees?

It could happen.

"Oh fuck, your tits look fucking amazing. Don't stop..."

Heather's face was on fire as she took the final few steps, suddenly feeling very aware of her own enlarged chest. Not that it had needed the added size or heft, Plainview girls were generally well endowed in that department. Probably from generations of natural selection, unavoidable small town inter-breeding and birthing large farming families.

Was Sean watching porn? God in heaven, Heather couldn't help but wonder what sort of internet self-stimulation material the vigorous young man would favor. Did he have a type--or worse; a kink--that had something to do with women's breasts?

Of course he did. He was a boy, wasn't he?

Before she could remonstrate herself for the stupid question or her own actions, Heather was there, angling her head close to the door jam to catch sight of her presently distracted stepson.

Sean was laying on his bed naked with his phone propped up on his chest in one hand, rapidly stroking his stiff manhood with the other.

Heather almost dropped the laundry basket to cover an involuntary gasp.

She had known that her stepson was fit in a well maintained way that came from regular exercise but was only hinted at under his regular jeans and casual t-shirts. What the buxom blonde hadn't realized that her new son was sculpted like a greek statue with defined muscle running down the length of his torso, across washboard abdominals down to an obscenely exposed shaft that jutted rigidly from his pelvis like a sailing ships mainmast.

"Does that feel good, Baby? Do my huge tits feel good wrapped around your big boy dick?"

The volume from the phone was turned down low, almost muted and Heather only made out the words by straining her ears. They hardly registered as her eyes were locked on Sean's impressive twitching cock as his hips jerked and he pumped it harder in his blurring fist.

"Oh shit, I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum all over those fantastic tits of yours..."

The warning words snapped Heather out of her entranced state too late to avoid witnessing something no mother should. Her hot breath against the cracked door was almost fogging up her glasses as she blearily made out spurt after long spurt of pearlescent spunk erupting from her stepson's bulging crown in an almost intimidating display of youthful virility.

Her thrumming nether lips practically purred in moistening approval.

Pulling back, Heather shook her head in an attempt to erase the indecent moment from imprinting on her mind's eye and slunk away on shaky feet, berating herself internally for acting like a horny fool the entire time.

________________

Sean gratefully accepted the plate of fried eggs, crispy bacon and brown toast from his step mother as he sat at the dining table.

"Thanks, Heather. You didn't have to go to the trouble." He said sheepishly, trying not to stare at the way her thick breasts shifted under the floral print singlet top she wore as she bent to place a similarly hearty breakfast in front of his father. "Us two bachelors learned to fend for ourselves some time ago. Hunting and foraging like a pair of cavemen, you know?"

"Pass the salt and pepper this way." His dad muttered, not taking his eyes off his digital tablet and clutching at the vacant air expectantly. He wasn't much of a morning person. "I've got a client consultation at nine and traffic today is going to be a bitch."

Sean hadn't missed the way Heather had gone in for a fond peck on the cheek as she delivered his father's morning repast, but his dad apparently did. His old man brushed her off and took a heavy pull from his mug of black coffee.

"I've got hash browns in the oven." She said in a bright, hopeful tone. "They will be ready in a few minutes if you can wait--"

"No time, sorry Sweetheart." Paul said, working the pepper grinder and cramming a piece of toast into his mouth. "Someone has to work to pay the bills around here, right?"

Sean frowned at his father's dismissive remark.

They hadn't been close in the years after the death of his mother but they had remained civil and respectful of each other's grief. His father had nursed a broken heart for too long, so it came as a surprise to Sean when the old man returned from a three month contract in the midwest with a buxom, blushing bride on his arm.

It was like those wild stories people told about trips to Vegas and Sean hadn't known how to react to the sudden intrusion of a new woman in their home. But Heather was undeniably gorgeous in a ripe, mature fashion and proven to be a kind, nurturing soul with no ulterior motives other than making the best of a second chance at love.

She had that cheerful, welcoming country girl charm bundled up with a healthy full figure that wasn't showing any signs of middle age. Her hips and bust were thick but firm, her limbs toned and her bottom had more bounce than a trampoline.

She was so striking in appearance that Sean had found himself awkward around his new stepmom at first, tongue tied in a way none of the pretty college girls his own age could make him.

"I was hoping we could talk before you left." Heather said, wringing a dish cloth nervously in her hands as Paul shoveled down a fork full of eggs. "Gemma is arriving today from college--"

"Your daughter is coming here?" Paul grunted through the mouthful, finally looking up from his tablet. "When were you going to tell me about this visit?"

"We spoke about it over a week ago. She's broken off the engagement with her fiance and needs space to..."

"It's fine, she can stay in the guest bedroom." Paul muttered, already losing interest and scrolling through his news feed again. "Just charge anything she needs to the credit card."

"She has her own money, dear." Heather said in a small voice. "It's more about taking the time to reevaluate her life and where she wants to go from here. Away from all the drama."

"Sounds good, put it all on the Amex." Sean's father had clearly stopped listening as he folded up his bacon in the last piece of toast, stood and grabbed his suit jacket off the back of the chair. "Thanks for breakfast, Sweetheart. I'm going to be working late again tonight and will grab dinner out. Don't wait up, 'kay?"

Then he blew her half-hearted kiss through a spray of crumbs and headed out.

Sean watched him go then turned to help his stepmom clear the table. She looked downcast, her slim shoulders slumped and her long blanket of golden hair hiding her pretty face. He hated seeing her like that. In the few months they had been living together Sean had grown close to the new woman in his Father's life.

It had been effortless to form a connection with Heather. She respected that he wasn't a child and never tried to mother him. Instead she had relied on him for help settling into a new town and they had got along in such an easy manner that she often joked that they must have been good friends in a previous life.

"I'm sorry about him." Sean said gently, placing the dishes in the sink. "He gets like that in crunch time."

"How long does crunch time last?" Heather sniffled, dabbing at her eyes. "Because he's been acting this way for months now."

His heart sank at the sobbing note in her voice and Sean turned to wrap his stepmom up in a hug. She sank into his embrace, so soft and warm against him and buried her tear-stained face into his broad shoulder. He couldn't ignore the wonderful way her womanly curves molded against him. It felt good but also wrong, a betrayal.

"Would you look at me, crying over bacon and eggs." Heather glanced up and put on a brave smile, it was an expression that was growing too common for Sean's liking. "It's the gosh darn fertility treatment. My emotions are all over the place today."

"Never mind Paul." Sean hadn't called the man dad in years and decided to change the subject. "You said Gemma was arriving today. Want me to put fresh sheets on the guest bed?"

His step mother's smile changed from brave to genuine at the offer. She pulled back a pace then looked down at herself with a yelp of embarrassment and clutched the dish cloth to her chest.

"Tha-that would be lovely, thank you Sean." Her beautiful face was flushed red as a stop light. "I have... um, more laundry that needs washing. Are you sure it's not a bother?"

"Not at all." Sean said, watching her round butt wiggle as she all but ran out of the kitchen.

Hadn't she done the laundry already that morning?

________________

Heather inspected the breast pump with an uncomfortable knot in her stomach.

The doctor had recommended it after she had reported her... leaking problem at their latest appointment. The lactation was a good sign, for the planned pregnancy at least, but she didn't like the sterile clinical look and cold feel of the medical device in her hands.

She wasn't certain that she needed all the hormone supplements and check-ups. Gemma had been a happy accident, her little girl catching everyone by surprise after only the third time she and her high-school boyfriend had sex. Abandonment and all other emotional woes aside, the pregnancy and birth had been a joyful experience without any complications.

Heather was fertile, she had no doubt of that. Abundantly so, even as she passed forty years of life. Her robust body was healthy, built to carry new life with wide hips and big breasts that could feed a cohort of infants. Heather could feel it and the forsaken baby-pills the Doctors prescribed her were only revving up her libido and making her ovaries rumble like diesel engines.

...and filling her overblown mammaries to bursting with milk.