~*~
I spent the night in my room, not even leaving to get dinner. I couldn’t look my stepmother in the eye, and I definitely didn’t want my father to get suspicious at the tense atmosphere that would certainly accompany my presence at the dinner table.
But I could only stave off hunger so long, and resigned myself to joining them at the breakfast table the next morning. I woke up between sticky sheets with a severe case of morning wood, the remnants of some highly explicit dream that I couldn’t remember but that I was almost certain had something to do with the well-endowed woman making breakfast downstairs.
I pulled at my cock furiously until I felt my balls tightening up and a wave of pleasure shoot through my cock, the hot white liquid landing against my skin. Then I ran to the bathroom and jumped in the shower, making sure the temperature was as low as I could stand it, cooling myself off.
When I reached the kitchen, Pamela was moving plates from the counter to the table, where my dad sat enjoying his breakfast.
“Good morning, honey!” Pam said, smiling at me brightly as I walked in the room. I didn’t dare say anything to her, so I walked quietly to the table and sat in my seat, pulling a plate of food towards me.
I tried not to look at her, but I couldn’t help it; she was still in her pajamas, and the cotton was visibly thin against her skin… I could see her nipples poking out of shirt, teasing me, inviting me to reach out and touch them, twist them between my fingers, squeeze and pull at them until little droplets of white began to seep out of the tip…
“Would you like some milk, darling?”
I started in my seat, the colour draining from my face. She couldn’t possibly be asking me…?!
“W-w-what?!” I sputtered, still not looking at her.
“Some milk? To go with your food?”
I raised my head to see Pam standing next to me, a pitcher of milk in her hand. Oh, right. The color began to make its way back into my face — of course that’s what she meant. She reached over my plate to take my glass, filling it to the top and setting it back down.
“You alright, Paul?” my father said from across the table. “You look a bit shaken up. Did you have a bad dream or something?” He chuckled and shoved another forkful of food into his mouth.
“Yeah, something like that…” I mumbled, reaching for the glass of milk and raising it to my lips.
After breakfast my father left to go sporting with his friends. Pamela had gone upstairs a few minutes earlier. I stayed after both of them, cleaning up the table, rinsing off the dishes and placing them in the dishwasher. Then I made my way back upstairs, looking forward to hours of video games.
As I walked past my father’s bedroom something caught my eye; Pam was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirtless, the breast pump hanging off of one of her tits. I felt a jolt shoot through my cock and I backtracked, stopping so that I could see her through the gap between the door and its frame. She was holding her breast in her left hand and pumping with her right. I couldn’t see much, but I did see the streams of milk that were sliding down the edges of the glass.