Whole Milk

It was my first Christmas party at the company. I was twenty-four, bright and dedicated, sporting my shiny new MBA to anyone who would listen. When you're twenty-four, fit and good-looking, the world is there for your taking, right? My confidence might have been mistaken for arrogance sometimes, but I'd gotten a really unpleasant lesson a few months ago in the difference between confidence and arrogance; the fuck-up that had been my fault alone had cost the company a lot of money. Me and my deflated ego, and wiser approach to things, went into this Christmas party not as some young hot stud looking to make an impression, but perhaps as a more general employee who was simply learning the ropes.

I saw her - the big boss who had reamed me a new asshole in the wake of my fuck-up. I'd had two more conversations with her after that day, one where she issued a very stern warning to me that another fuck-up would cost me my job, and the second only a month ago where she had complimented me for pulling my head out of my ass and doing much better work, but then we went through the items that she had found to be questionable. I asked many more questions this time around, and turned in the updated work the following Monday after working all weekend. She had scanned it, noting the obvious corrections and a few other things that I'd found, thanked me and dismissed me.

The big boss was a big woman. Not fat, just large. She was taller than me by probably two inches and I'm six foot even. She was definitely broader than me, in shoulders and hips. Although she was dressed in a suit that probably cost more than any one of my net paychecks, the conservative cut could simply not completely hide how juicy of a body the woman sported. I was certainly not alone in my admiration of her. My closest friend in the company, Todd, wandered up to me with a bottle of beer in his hand.

"Oh, fuck," he said softly. We stood side by side, arms nearly touching, staring while trying hard not to look like we were staring. "Christ, what a body."

"I know, right?" I had a beer and took a quick pull. "Fucking outstanding." We had discussed her before, as we were part of a larger crew that nearly always hit the bars on Friday afternoons. I had met him my senior year in college and we had become friendly, though not friends. We were trending towards friends now, though.

"Mean, though," Todd said.

I gave him a side-eye glance. "You're telling me?"

He chuckled. "Nah, I know you know. Dumb-ass," he tacked on.

"Yep." No sense in arguing the point. "I'm learning, though."

"Me, too, just not as painfully," he laughed.

Our direct boss then wandered by. He was a skinny, nerdy thirty-something with a wife and new baby at home, and was already plastered. I think it took him about two beers to get drunk, and the third teetered him into la la land. "Hey what'ch'all talkin' about?" he sort of threw in our general direction while staggering past. He did not stop, thankfully, because our boss was not all that pleasant a drunk. Not mean, just...preachy.

"Crisis averted," Todd breathed as the bossman wandered off to accost the three female employees in our department. Not two minutes later, I looked over and saw one of them tugging at her ear.

"Friend save," I said softly, nudging Todd with my arm. He looked and saw it too, the desperate look of "fucking save us!" in Rachel's eyes. We headed over and conducted the friend save, and were thanked profusely afterwards.

Todd, who had eyes for Rachel, lingered and I headed to the bar to get another beer. I got in line and was waiting patiently among the higher-ups whom I did not know nor really want to try to meet in that moment.

"Ah, young Bryan, you are you enjoying your first Christmas party?" I knew that soft, smoky voice instantly, and turned to see the big boss smiling at me. Her eyes were large and round, with eyes that sparkled with pleasure and intelligence.

"I am, Catherine," I said with a smile.

Catherine Brooks was her name, and she insisted that everyone call her by her first name. She was not married, so far as we knew, as her left hand was decidedly ringless.

"How about you?"

She waved her hand. "Oh, they can be enjoyable or they can be tedious. So far this year is heading towards tedious, sadly," she commented. Her chin lifted for a moment. "That was nice of you and Todd to go save your coworkers from Barry."

"You saw?" I said with some surprise.

"Mmm-hmmm," she said, nodding slowly. "Good worker, Barry, but he can't hold his liquor worth a damn," she judged.

Being that he was my boss, and she was his boss, I felt the most prudent course of action was merely to smile and say nothing.

"Anyway, you've improved, your work product and attitude," she said.

"Thank you," I replied sincerely. I felt a little glimmer of pleasure; even unofficial attaboys are welcome.

"Ah," she said suddenly. "Listen, will you do a huge favor for me?"

"Um, yes, of course," I said.

"I'm tired of this. I'd like you to escort me to my car. Will you?"

"Oh. Oh yeah, sure."

"Good. Now," she said, a trifle softer, "in order to prevent tongues from wagging, I want you to get your coat in twenty minutes. Make an excuse that you're bored out of your mind, and prepare to pack up and leave. The minute that I see you at the coat check, I'll head that way. Meet me in the lobby, by the coffee shop, and then you can walk me to my car. Fair?"

"Sure," I said, surprised by all of this, but willing to do it anyway. I was maybe more surprised that she wanted an escort; if there was a woman in this world who I thought could take most men, it was Catherine. "See you in...twenty or so?"

"Yes. Good." She smiled, and this was a genuine one that conveyed vastly different messages than the thin smile you got for a job well done. "See you soon."

I got my beer and wandered back to Todd. He was really working Rachel hard, and she was at least somewhat amenable to his advances. Her two friends, both blond, cute and taken, chatted idly with me but without any real enthusiasm. Finally the twenty minutes was up, I made my excuses and said my good-byes. I walked to get my coat, and donned it, and headed to the elevator without a look back. Somehow, I felt it would not be advisable to look back.

I moved to the coffee shop, and actually bought a small one while waiting. I was there maybe ten minutes before Catherine arrived, her coat wrapped tightly around her body. She spotted me right off, and nodded her head for me to move to the door of the hotel where the party was staged. Our building was a four-block walk.

I went outside into the bitter December air. It was a cold snap, and the temperatures were in their teens already, forecasted to drop into single digits in the dead of the night. I pulled on gloves and a hat, and wrapped the scarf around my face. No sense in being uncomfortable. A moment later, dressed similarly, Catherine appeared.

"Let's go then, shall we?" she said without preamble. We walked steadily, neither fast nor slow, just a good pace.

"Cold night," I commented.

"Yes," she agreed right off. "Going to enjoy snuggling under my covers later."

I felt an eyebrow arch. While not exactly suggestive, it was not exactly the kind of thing that a boss would say to an underling. So I was careful in choosing my words. "A cozy bed is a good place on a night like this."

She chuckled. "Sure is. I have a fireplace too. I might get a glass of wine and sit in front of it, just staring into the fire. There's something romantic about that."

"Sounds like quite the scene," I agreed.

"Do you have your own place?"

"I do, I rent down in Featherington," which was a suburb south of the city, on one of the main subway lines.

"So not a bad commute," she judged. "I live in North Heights."

I'd heard of it, and the million dollar homes. Evidently Catherine was making waaaaay more than me. "Nice neighborhood, so I hear."

"You're not from the city, are you?"

"Nope, from back east."

"Yeah, it's a nice neighborhood," she confirmed. "Hoidy-toidy as fuck, though," she commented.

Now, she'd cursed me out good, so I knew that Catherine knew her way around swearing, yet it was a little curious to hear her so casually drop the f-bomb. My chuckle was not feigned nor forced. "Mines a bunch of people like me, just starting out in life."

"Yeah, I was like that once myself," she confirmed. "We're almost to my garage. Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," I said. The walk and talk had been pleasant, and I was not a little sad to see it end.

"Would you like a nightcap?"

I almost faltered, her question stunned me so. My head whipped to look at her, and saw her prepared for it. Looking at me, her eyes shiny with interest. God, she was so gorgeous, and I would be a quivering wreck, and yeah, it was probably a stupid idea to even consider it given the layers of management between her and I, but then my cock said "FUCK YES STUPID!" while I managed to say "That...would be lovely."

"Terrific," she graced me with one of those genuine, big smiles. "Come on," she said, and entered her building. She had a Land Rover, one of those fancier ones, a pearly white color that shone under the harsh artificial lights overhead. We hopped in and she started it up, smoothly pulling away and out of the building, into the cold night air.

"Surprised by my offer?" she said into the silence.

"Yes."

"You're a good looking young man," she said. As she did, my ego went FUCK YEAH and my cock did a dance. "And you show potential," she said next.

My ego deflated a little. So this was to be a work conversation, though in a private place. Well, whatever. "Thank you," I said, hoping to sound pleasantly sincere.

She shot a quick grin at me. Her white teeth were straight and perfect, surely the result of orthodontic work. There were a few more innocuous strands of conversation in the fifteen minutes it took her to drive to her home. When she pulled in, I found myself staring not at a house, but at a fucking mansion.

"Jeez, nice house," I blurted out. She pulled into the long driveway that ran alongside the house, and parked in the back. She killed the car and smiled at me, and hopped out. I followed, and we entered her mudroom where our coats were hung and shoes doffed, and then she guided me through the kitchen into the big sitting room dominated by a fireplace. She picked up a controller and it came to life with a gas-driven whoosh; she fiddled with the controls until it was just the right size. No lights were turned on.

"Take a seat, relax," she said, indicating a big sofa in front of the fireplace. "I'll be right back."

When she returned, I craned my neck to watch her approach. In each hand, she held a full glass of dark red wine, but that's not what caught my eye. What caught my eye was the way that her chest swayed with each step; it was obvious that she had removed her bra. Her shirt was now untucked, and she handed the glass to me, and then sat on the other end of the sofa, curling her legs under her. They remained encased her in pantyhose. Her legs, her boobs, the ambience, the wine - all of it stirred my cock to life. Its wakening was not exactly wanted, and I managed not to let it get to full mast. But it was also fair to say that it was on a hair trigger in that regard.

"Nice, huh?" she asked. She sipped her wine, and then twisted her torso to put the glass down on a table next to her. The way that her body moved pressed that flesh into the side of her shirt. I yanked my eyes away before she caught me staring.

"Yes, its...amazing," I said after considering and discarding several other word choices.

"I love it here," she said quietly. "I would not have it any other way."

"Big house just for you," I commented. Then I winced. How fucking stupid could I be?

Either she did not care or let it pass. "I know. But I have appetites," she said. "One of them is to live in a big, posh place like this." She shrugged. "It suits me."

"I would probably sit in here every night and stare at the fire," I said.

She chuckled. "Most nights I'm either too busy, or too tired," she said. "I work pretty late most days - I hate getting up early so I tend to come in later, and work later, and then, you know," she said while sweeping her hands from chest-level down past her legs, "the workout regimens are exhausting. Do you work out?"

I nodded. "Pretty much daily. I swam in college, some, I was never very good," I added. "But enough for a partial ride, and I really can't stand going more than a day without going to the gym."

She understood that completely, I saw in her nod and the expression on her face. "Same here, not the swimming bit, but the daily workouts." She adjusted her position, once more straining her shirt from the movement. "There's one thing that does get very tiring about the gym, though."

"What's that?" I asked.

"All the fucking staring." Her sudden tone change knocked me back a little. "I know what my body's like, I can't help that. But gawd. Look at your own damn reflection or something!"

"I guess its exhausting?" I hazarded this reply.

She nodded. "Yes. The meathead douchebags are the worst, walking past me all flexing and shit, thinking I would just fall over and suck their dick right there."

That made me laugh and snort at the same time. "I belong to a much smaller gym. Probably more roids than mirrors," I judged, "but I like it because everyone is pretty much left alone just to work out."

"Sounds better than my place, one of those high-profile corporate gym places. Still," she said, "sometimes its fun to prance through there and watch tongues wag," she said with a sly tone and wry smile. "But I much prefer to do that on my terms, and not have some meathead all googly-eyes at me."

She turned to retrieve her glass, and took a sip, then continued.

"Besides, like I said, I have appetites, and no one at my gym would amount even to a tasty snack."

I sensed the allusion, the sly way she said it, the side-eye glance I got. Her toes curled, the movement pulling my eyes to it for a moment. As I brought my eyes up, I saw intrigue in them. Fuck it, I thought. "Your appetites. Large?"

Smoothly and coolly she nodded her head. "Large, and extensive. I would get so bored...dining...on the same thing night after night."

"Variety, its the spice of life," I managed.

"True. But sometimes, I mean, that delectable dish, you know, the one you come back to time and again, providing such comfort and sustenance and its always so pleasurable to dig into it."

"What good is a large appetite if dining does not give you pleasure?"

"See?!" she said with a quick flash of a smile. "There are just so many things to savor. Why limit oneself?"

Somehow being consumed as a snack for this woman felt like something I would enjoy tremendously. My cock certainly thought so; it was beginning to swell more steadily from this light flirting. "If you don't try...new things, why, you might never know what you're missing!"

Now the head bob was slower, with more deliberation. Slowly she uncurled her legs, and adjusted herself so that she was seated with her legs crossed, slightly leaning against the side of the sofa. She looked over at me. "How about you, Bryan? Are you inclined to try new things, perhaps some things that might be a trifle...exotic?"

Gulp went my throat. My voice was more than a little hoarse in my reply. "I look forward to trying new things, even exotic things. I'd rather try it and discover whether it was to my taste than forego it, and be left to wonder."

"That," she said softly, "is the best attitude to have. And who knows, perhaps you'll develop a craving for it!" She gently patted her lap. "So for an example, if you would want to lay your head down in my lap?"

"Uh...sure," I said with some hesitation. That was a curious one. But whatever. I turned on the couch, and laid in a prone position. As her warm hands cradled my head, lowering me into position on her lap, the moment felt deeply intimate. I had never really had a woman cradle my head that way, and she seemed to know exactly what she wanted out of me. I shifted around once or twice to ensure that I was comfortable, and I was pleased to note that my neck was not really strained in the position I found myself.

She smiled down at me, though half of her face was now blocked from my vision because of the swell of her chest hidden behind that light blue top she still wore. "Why don't you simply clasp your hands together above your abdomen," she suggested lightly. Her head tilt suggested that she was watching, so I brought them together, lacing the fingers, and rested them on my lower belly. As I was now quite erect, I was certain that the outline of my cock was showing through the boxer shorts and rather thin-material khakis I had worn to the office that day.

"How lovely," she said. "And now, I hope that you will agree to enjoy one of my deepest appetites?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

In my position, gazing up around the mounds of flesh, the only light in the room from the dancing flames, for a moment her face looked primal, maybe predatory. But it passed in the briefest of moments. "I find myself quite wanting to enjoy your appetites, Catherine," I returned using the barest whisper of my own.

"Mmmm, such a good boy," she said, a casual yet noticeable inflection change at good boy. It stirred my brain a little. I was no stranger to viewing, shall we say, fetish-themed porn. From time to time, the bossy, dominant women in those videos called their male submissives good boys. While the thought of submitting to a dominant woman had stirred some interest, it had not really set a deep hook in me, either. I supposed that I was about to find out. I realized that I did not much mind, either way. My cock sure didn't.

Her hand rose, and my eyes rolled back to watch as she brought it to the first button of her top. She adroitly slipped the button through the opposite side hole, and loosened her top. Her fingers moved slowly but deliberately down to the next one. And then the next. As she got to the fourth button, her large breasts had swung out some, unfettered by the hold of the top. The deep valley between them was now revealed, and her breasts looked enormous, with milky-white skin that I was dead-certain would be warm and supple.

She nudged my head out of the way in order to get her last button undone. She adjusted herself, and the shirt fell to the side, revealing both heavy breasts, hanging down. Her areola were quite large, a pale pink, and in the middle, large nipples stood out from the curving flesh. "As we were discussing dining," she said softly, "I do hope that you'll enjoy this tremendously." She adjusted her torso slightly, and using her hand, slipped it behind my head. She applied pressure and I raised up, and it was obvious that my mouth was to suckle her nipple.

That first touch of a woman, even if its mouth to breast, is something to savor. The new tastes, aromas, and textures of her flesh. The hard little button flicked by my tongue stirred her to a soft coo, and then my lips pursed around the bud, and I applied slight suction, using my tongue to tease the stiffening bud.

"Oh. Oh!" She pulled my head tightly against her breast all of a sudden. "God, here it comes!" she moaned.

Here what comes?

All of a sudden, my mouth was flooded - and I mean absolutely flooded - by liquid. It was warm but not gross, tasty in fact. I found myself not just wanting to suckle at her breast harder, but needing to! No, it was a compulsion from which I could not turn away, I had to suckle harder, and harder, and the harder I sucked, the more of her milk I was given, and I fed greedily, as greedy as any baby nursing from her mother.