Truth Comes Out (with More Milk)

Right around the start of my lunch break, there it was: the sound i’d been dreading: Yasmin’s ringtone.

“Hi” i answered weakly.

“I wrecked things between us, didn’t i?”

“I think it’s rather the other way around: i raped you” i ended in a whisper, ensuring that i covered my mouth so no one who might pass by could possibly read my lips.

“No you didn’t! I’m such a nympho slut, i tote seduced you into gloriously fucking my brains out! Aaauuggh!” she started at full volume, suddenly dropping her voice at those esteem-cratering words (at least as she intended them when she said this). “I can’t go on if our friendship is trashed! How can i fix it?!”

“It’s not you who needs to do the fixing, girl. Nor is this the time or place we should be talking about it. Seriously, are you OK?”

“As long as we’re still friends, yes.”

“Nothinnnng… hurts?”

“Nope. Not physically. Oh Rissieee, we need to work this out!” she whined.

I knew without seeing she was stomping at least one of her feet slightly, prolly her left rear. “I don’t know how to do that without going through the whole thing all over again. Forever more i need to be milked after work. I’m going to have to do that on my own then get dressed again, then have you over or i come to your place if you prefer, and we keep our clothes on” i said softly so others wouldn’t hear “and try to talk it out. This isn’t something i feel comfortable talking about anywhere other than one of our homes, and that’s… mmmm… risky.”

“We can be good! We’re besties! Best Friends Foreverrrrr!”

“Alright, pick a home.”

“I’ll come over to yours again please” she blurted out, barely a second after i finished.

“OK. Tentatively 7 PM, and that’s with me going straight home after work, since that’s how long it takes me to milk myself solo.”

“I can help–”

“–Not tonight, Yasi” i interrupted. “We’ve got to work this out first. Carry your cell with you and wait for me to text you an OK, in case i’m running late.”

“Sure. May i bring dinner?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Jim Dandy Bourbon Ball Pasta, with your choice of rainbow rotelli or Magic Carpet egg noodles.”

“What are magic carpet egg noodles?”

“A brand of flat, wide noodles made fresh locally.”

“OK Gourmet Girl: i’ll take that. But please, Yasi: we’ve gotta stay focused on working things out. Don’t know about you, but i was too upset to have dinner last night.”

“Don’t say thaaaat, Bestie!”

“What? You felt chill enough to go home and have something to eat?”

“Didn’t have to. I had milk for dinner. Lots of it, at your flat. It was great!”

We ended the call soon after that. The relief from being apparently forgiven for arguably raping my BFF almost led me to fall asleep at my desk. Excitement from our forthcoming evening meet-up plus another cup of coffee with my hastily-eaten lunch kept me awake and functional.

Aside: most of you are probably familiar with Jim Dandy Bourbon, and the founder’s famous rescues. Yasmin’s Jim Dandy bourbon balls are meatballs infused with the eponymous bourbon, along with her secret mix of spices.

Between having blown through the day’s incoming new data in record time and no longer being able to concentrate, i left work early.

Milking seemed to take forever, and this evening all i wanted was to get it over with, nothing more.

Thankfully there was enough time for me to freshen up in the shower and change into some clean clothes. At the time i didn’t know why i felt compelled to slip into the only sexy date night outfit that still in any way fit me, but that’s what happened.

I texted Yasmin the go-ahead at 5 minutes to 7.

7 PM exactly, she was at the front door.

“Hhhhhhh!”—each of us gasped and stared at the other, upon first sight.

Nine string bikini tops and two pairs of short shorts—she barely had clothes on! Not only that, she wore the most gorgeous hot pink “kiss my lips off!” lipstick i’ve ever seen—and this wasn’t the first time i’d seen it. Last sighting was when she asked me to consult with her for what to wear for an especially hot third date a few years ago, and i recommended that one as sending a clear message of desire.

⅓rd. of a minute later, i spoke first, “Was it really necessary to dress up so eminently fuckable?!”

“That’s basically what i was going to ask youuuu! You’re not exactly leaving much to the imagination with that skin-tight low-cut red mini dress!”

“Alright, so we both took Dress To Impress up too many notches. Come on in and let’s get through this. Where’s dinner?”

“On my back.”

“Oh get out!”

“I just got here!” she whined.

“No no no no—i mean, seriously?! You carried dinner on your back?!”

“Why not? It’s not that heavy. It’s just for the two of us, not a banquet.”

Sure enough: i’d been too busy staring at her boobs and beautiful face to notice the shoulder straps. As she walked in i could easily see the custom day pack-style hot food pack and the similar strap around her horizontal back holding it in place along that axis. It was exceedingly stable, and not small!

I knew from prior conversations that her horizontal back was human back construction, not in any way equine. She could carry a small child or two, or other objects of similar weight or less (like tonight’s dinner), but not standard-sized adults nor other equally heavy things. Nevertheless it was impressive to watch her walk with me to the kitchen, gesticulating as usual with both hands totally free whilst carrying our dinner like a pack animal.

Helping unfasten the pack and working with her in the kitchen to reheat and serve was a bad idea: i felt my control slipping away. {She’s so adorable and lovable and boinkable!} i remember thinking, immediately berating myself for those thoughts.

Dinner itself was a good idea: stabilizing each of our biochemistry before likely contentious conversation. It also allowed Yasmin to get into her melodic chatter. Oftentimes i think had her parents known, they should have named her Melody.

There were enough safe topics to keep both our digestion calm. The only issue over dinner was my crazy mind inventing fictions where she and i lived together and had sharing conversational meals like this together every night. Doing that as flatmates wouldn’t be a stretch, but that’s not where my mind went.

I asked Yasmin to please leave cleanup for later. Once we cleared the table and moved the dirty dishes and whatnot to the kitchen (another process fraught with danger of me losing myself again and sexually attacking her anew), we settled in our familiar spots in my living room. Since becoming a multi-boobed humantaur, far and away the most comfortable place for her was on the backless section of my sectional couch. Sometimes i sat there near her, especially if we were small-screen sharing, or on those rare occasions when the room was crowded, such as our group of friends legal document signing after-meeting over half a year ago. Tonight i wanted both the back support and a little space, hence i sat on a nearby section with a normal back.

“Let’s just jump right into this, OK?”

“Sure” she replied.

“What actually happened between the time you were deep-throating me so well that i had to put my left nippledick in my own mouth, and when i saw your nude rear dancing in front of my face then plowed my right raging nipcock into you without any consent whatsoever that i can recall and fucked you madly, pumping you full of milk? I still think i raped you.”

“You did no such thing, and please stop talking like that, because it upsets me. Seeing you power-suckle yourself sent my own passions off the charts. I fondled and squeezed your succulent delicious right boob with both hands for all i was worth as i kept drinking down your milk and deep-throating you. That wasn’t enough for slutty me, so i had to push it to rubbing as many of my boobs as possible against as much of your udder as possible at the same time. Augggh!: my nips against your teats felt epic!”

“OK i’m remembering that now. Then what happened?”

“I groped and grabbed and rubbed against every part of you i could get my hands or any other part of me on. Rubbed and fondled and squeezed, until we were both so worked up i couldn’t stand it. That’s when i reluctantly let your terrific titgland out of my mouth and repeatedly begged you to nipcock fuck me as i turned around and aimed my junk at your face, dancing from excited anticipation and impatience. You actually hesitated briefly before you plowed me at my demand and made me the happiest woman in this town.”

“Oh yeaaaaaaahhhhh” i replied as the blanked-out memories faded into consciousness for the first time. “Alright, so here’s my thing—my thing right now: If you want me to drop the whole rape thing, you need to drop the whole slut thing, unless you’re re-claiming that term as a positive descriptor.”

“OK, but i don’t know what else to call myself when my sex drive is consuming me! It’s so hard for me to just sit here and be with you like this when i want more and more and more sex with you! But i can’t handle destroying our friendship!”

“Is there some rule i don’t know about where BFFs can’t be lovers too?”

“Love doesn’t last forever! At least mine don’t.”

“Most of the ones in my family do, amongst the older generations. They last until someone dies. Which, whether you care to think about it or not, is when our friendship is technically going to end.”

“I don’t want to think about it, and if you keep it up, i’m going to need to come over and sit across your lap with each pair of my legs on opposite sides of you and have you comfort me. Except that’s not gonna work so well because my front would be facing away from you. So how do we deal with these strong sex drive feelings?!”

“What choice do we have? My feelings for you are so strong, i can’t turn them off!”

“Same here!”

“But i don’t want to hurt you with my high sex drive and this new-to-me overpowering urge to fuck people hard—you especially.”

“Larissa, i like it when you fuck me hard! At least last evening. Were you holding back?”

“No. But i also wasn’t in control of myself.”

“You felt to me like you were in control of nearly everything, which turned me on even more! So here’s the thing: how can we set up safeties such that neither of us breaks our friendship?”

“I don’t know, Yasi.”

She let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Well if that’s how it is, what do we need to do to remove all barriers of us being any-which-way lovers?”

“Establish agreed-upon boundaries—at least sexual boundaries.”

She thought silently for at least a minute.

“I don’t know how to do that with you, ’Risse. Seriously: with you, I’d try anything once.”

Now i was the silent one, dazzled by her glitter-eyed smile and visibly swelling breasts—all of them within my sight.

“Well maybe we’d better each speak of what we most want. No—let’s each write it down instead, then show each other. That way neither of us can possibly wind up influencing the other by speaking first about what we most want.”

Sometimes dead tree technology beats modern electronic gee-gaws. I handed Yasmin a clipboard with a single sheet of notebook paper and a freshly-sharpened pencil, resuming my seat with a similar writing setup of my own.

We each wrote for some time, frequently looking up towards the other, smiling.

Exchanging clipboards with each other was all of shocking, arousing, sigh-inducing, and swoon-inducing. Even as life-long friends who knew each other well, the high correlation between our individual desires was mind-pausing. I’ll not get into the specifics, other than sharing that each of us used the words “fuck”, “suck”, “lick”, “grope”, “fondle”, “kiss”, and “sex” a lot, with “love”, “cuddle”, and related words of affection correlating less and yet present in both our missives.

It made for extremely arousing reading, no doubt why my boobcocks grew and grew right out of my sexy dress’s neck opening, tantalizingly close to my mouth.

“Uuunngh!” Yasmin lustily grunted, “Gosh it’s getting hot in here. Ummnggh! And these… clothes feel so… tight!” She began undoing her brakini tops, starting with those covering her front.

There it was again: that sensation of darkness despite the room remaining well-lit—a form of losing consciousness to overwhelming lust. My raging nippledicks yearned to be free, as did my udder teats, which themselves are capable of a milder, softer form of lengthening, firming arousal. To my amazement my nipschlongs grew like never before, to the point where they poked me in my cheeks!

Yasmin herself trembled with desire at this point—obvious enough for me to see. Hurriedly she unfastened and dropped or cast aside brakini after brakini until all her swollen lust-filled boobs were free.

I was busy extricating my aroused self from my sexy red dress, struggling not to shred it in my rush towards nudity. After whipping off her front short shorts, she struggled briefly with her back pair until they too were off and she was totally nude. This happened around the same time I got myself fully out of my dress and wetter-by-the-moment (from teat milk leakage) undies.

She rushed up to me, pressing her front into me as far as she could, kissing the living daylights out of me with her arms around me holding us together. Soon i was ravaging her in kind with equal kissing passion, grinding my big soft sexual front against hers. Before i knew it she’d pulled away, doing a quick half circle such that her glorious butt was once again aimed right at me. She plowed backwards into my upper udder, grinding for all she was worth, easing away briefly then plowing back in for more grinding. I was ready to explode!

Next thing I knew she was barely out of contact in that same general position, her super-fuckable hindquarters dancing tauntingly as she sang, “♫ Horny horny nympho nympho fuck me fuck me ♫”.

Shaking with passion, i plowed my raging-hard left boobcock into her, setting off a barking yelp from her immediately followed by her rattling the walls screaming “YESSSSssssss!”, her sexy butt still dancing somewhat even with me deep in her, sexually ramrodding her as i used my right hand to grind my raging right nipcock across the top of her luscious buns.

The room filled with loud lusty plaintive joyous feminine-pitched sexual moans and grunts and sighs and gasps and more as we went at it. Seeing Yasi groping and suckling herself all over within her reach, seemingly wishing she had a really big mouth or more mouths to get all her nips and boob fronts into it or them at the same time completely set me off: i had to immediately shove my right glans into my mouth and swallow for all i was worth to avoid a major milk mess. As it was, there were nevertheless a few squirt shots from my 4 free-ranging udder teats.

I’d had the joy of full-body orgasms before. This was more like a series of full-body orgasm earthquakes, shaking my entire existence almost as much as the shocks of the Accident minus any pain or discomfort—all pleasure! Assuredly part of the pleasure was from Yasi’s repeated orgasmic contractions around my log-like breast member around the same time I was going off repeatedly in her, once again filling her deep, welcoming vag with milk.

This evening’s aftermath of intercourse with my BFF could not have been more different than last time, nor any better. As my spent left side sex stick withered and eased out of her, I felt profoundly drained and affectionate at the same time. Yasi spun around, wrapping her arms around me and steadying me, nearly holding me up.

She led us back over to the couch, easing me down comfortably then cuddling so intimately close i thought she might be trying to defy physics and biology and get inside my skin. I silently wept tears of joy from how deeply she’d gotten inside my romantic heart, kissing her back tenderly after she started gently and lovingly kissing me as my tears first started. The vertigo sensation of falling—as in falling in love—found me, and as she later told me, her too. We held each other tight, feeling like we were falling together as a loving unit without actually moving anywhere at all in the consensus reality physical world, cuddled stationary right there on my couch.

We barely let go of each other for the rest of the night, and only then briefly for basic logistics: cleanup, bathroom, bed. My forever-chatty BFF had next to nothing to say with her mouth, now able to say so much so deeply with her hands, lips, and the rest of her body, via touch.

Many a time we’d showered together after a good workout at the gym in the large communal gym shower—together in the sense of at the same time. Tonight in my plushly generous shower (thankfully much bigger than my tiny bathtub), we showered together intimately, as lovers: cleaning one another with loving soapy (then rinsing) touch, with plenty of kisses which prior to this night, would not have been appropriate.

She was and is so beautiful, i’m crying right now as i type this: tears of gratitude, and profoundly deep love.