Mackenzie Grierson - Sex Stories

Mackenzie Grierson

... to do. But you probably do.”

“For Jack’s daughter, everything else can wait.” She reached forward and put a hand on my arm. “I will probably cry, many times. I’m just heartbroken. And angry, so very angry.”

“I know,” I said. “You killed Reginald St. James.” (See my story, Farah’s Revenge: Reginald St. James.)

“Self-defense,” she said automatically.

“Of course.”

“Now then,” she replied, recovering her poise and tapping a few keys on her computer. “You already know a fair bit about your father. You know he impregnated Professor Elizabeth Anne Smythe after which she falsely accused him of sexual assault, forcing him out of college. You know that he joined the Army as an enlisted man, was selected into the Special Forces, and deployed to active war zones all the around the world.”

“Yes,” I said.

The baby Darius began to fuss, not loudly, but gurgling with increasing emphasis. Farah went over to his crib and picked him up.

“I’m sorry, Mack. He’s hungry, I’m going to have to feed him.”

“Go ahead,” I said. “You’re a mom, that’s your most important job.”

She unbuttoned her blouse, revealing a wispy, translucent silk and lace bra. She pulled down a cup, exposing the plump globe crowned by a thick, meaty nipple. There was a bead of milk in the nipple pore. Baby Darius’s eyes lit up when he saw it and he eagerly took the meaty teat into his mouth. His eyes closed as he began to suckle.

I found the scene strangely erotic, and my eyes were drawn to ...

... Farah’s other breast, still covered by her thin bra cup. I saw a small circle of wetness around the clear bump her other nipple made in the thin fabric, indicating where she had leaked milk.

“May I?” I asked. I couldn’t understand why my voice was hoarse.

“May you what?” she asked.

“May I suckle on your other nipple?”

Farah looked at me through her glasses, and I couldn’t read her expression.

“You like women, Mack?”

“Not particularly. I just want to join my half-brother at your breast.”

She pulled down her other bra cup in a mute offering. I went down on my knees by her chair and ran my tongue over her firm milk-engorged breast. Her nipple grew harder and longer before my eyes. I tongued it drawing the tiny milk seepage into my mouth. It tasted sweet and made me want more. I began sucking and worked my tongue around her nipple at the same time. A stream of creamy milk spurted into my mouth and Farah sighed deep in her throat.

“Oh, Mack!” she purred.

She unbuttoned my blouse and traced the line of my black silk choker ribbon. Her fingers teased my nipples through my black bra, causing them to stiffen and poke out through the thin fabric.

“You have the breasts of a bra model, Mack,” she whispered.

I kept suckling and put my hands on her firm breast, gently massaging it to milk her. The rich flow into my mouth increased and Farah kept sighing. I suckled and kneaded her breast till I felt the flow begin to slacken and sat back on my haunches.

“Do you ...