Scarlet: 1000 Forbidden Touches

My baby daddy

Tasha stood in front of the mirror in her small apartment, frowning at her reflection. At twenty-six, she was still getting used to her postpartum body. Her hips had widened, her belly was softer, but it was her breasts that shocked her the most. Three weeks after giving birth, they were massive — swollen, heavy, and so full of milk they felt like they might burst. The thin white tank top she wore did nothing to hide them. Her dark n*****s poked hard against the fabric, and two growing wet spots were already spreading around them. Warm milk kept leaking out no matter what she did.

The baby was finally asleep in the next room, and Tasha had just sat down on the couch with a sigh when she heard a knock at the door. It was late — almost eleven. She peeked through the peephole and saw Jamal standing there, tall and muscular, his deep brown skin glowing under the hallway light. His thick beard and broad shoulders always made her stomach tighten a little. He was the baby daddy, the man who had gotten her pregnant during one wild weekend, but they weren’t together. Not really. Just co-parenting… and whatever this tension was between them.

She opened the door. Jamal’s eyes dropped straight to her chest the second he saw her.

“Damn, Tasha…” His voice came out lower, rougher than usual. “They look full as hell tonight.”

Tasha felt her cheeks heat up, but she didn’t cover herself. The ache in her breasts was killing her — tight, throbbing, painful pressure that made every breath feel heavy. Milk had been leaking nonstop for hours.

“You here to see the baby?” she asked, stepping aside so he could come in.

“Yeah… but he sleep already?” Jamal asked, closing the door behind him. His gaze kept flicking back to her t**s.

“He just went down. You can check on him later if you want.”

They moved to the living room and sat on the old couch. The room was quiet except for the low hum of the fan. Tasha shifted uncomfortably, pressing her arms lightly against her chest, but that only made more milk leak out. The wet spots on her tank top grew bigger, the fabric turning almost see-through.

Jamal noticed everything. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You hurting?”

“Yeah,” she admitted, biting her lip. “They’re so full it aches bad tonight. Feels like they’re about to explode.”

He was quiet for a moment, then his voice dropped even lower. “I can help… like old times. If you want.”

Tasha hesitated, heart beating faster. Old times meant the few times during pregnancy when he had sucked her breasts just for fun, making her come from that alone. She knew this was crossing a line again, but the pain was real and the way he was looking at her made heat pool between her legs.

She didn’t say yes with words. Instead, she hooked her fingers under the bottom of her tank top and slowly pulled it up and over her heavy breasts, letting them spill free.

They bounced slightly as they came out — big, round, and veiny from all the milk. Her dark n*****s were stiff and glistening. Right away, a thick white drop of warm milk formed on her left n****e and rolled slowly down the curve of her breast.

Jamal’s eyes darkened with hunger. He didn’t speak. He just leaned in close, one big hand gently cupping the underside of her left breast, lifting it toward his mouth. His lips wrapped around the swollen n****e and he started sucking — slow, deep, and steady.

The first strong pull sent a powerful stream of warm, sweet milk shooting straight into his mouth. Tasha gasped sharply, her back arching on the couch. “Ohhh… f**k…” Her hand flew to the back of his head, fingers sliding into his short hair as he nursed.

Jamal groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against her sensitive skin. He sucked harder, drinking greedily like he was starving. Thick streams of milk filled his mouth again and again. Some of it leaked from the corners of his lips and ran down her breast in warm, shiny trails. His other hand came up and squeezed her right breast firmly. Milk sprayed out in little jets, landing on his beard, his shirt, and her stomach.

The wet, filthy sucking sounds filled the quiet apartment — loud slurps mixed with Tasha’s soft moans. Her p***y was getting wetter by the second, a deep throb starting between her thighs.

Jamal kept drinking, switching from one n****e to the other, making sure both heavy t**s got attention. While his mouth worked one breast, his free hand slid down her body, under the loose shorts she was wearing. His fingers found her panties already soaked through. He pushed the fabric aside and stroked her swollen, slippery p***y lips before sliding two thick fingers deep inside her.

Tasha cried out, her hips bucking up against his hand. “Jamal… yes…”

He fingered her slowly at first, curling his fingers to hit that sweet spot inside while his mouth never stopped sucking. Every strong pull on her n****e made more milk flow, and every thrust of his fingers made her moan louder. Milk dripped steadily down her stomach, soaking into the waistband of her shorts and mixing with the wetness coming from her p***y.

The pressure built fast and hot. Tasha’s breathing turned into quick, desperate gasps. Her thighs trembled as she spread them wider on the couch, giving him better access.

“I’m gonna… oh s**t, I’m coming…” she whimpered.

Jamal sucked harder, fingers pumping faster, thumb brushing her c**t. Tasha came hard — her whole body shaking, p***y clenching tight around his fingers as a rush of wet heat flooded out. At the same time, her milk let down even stronger. Warm streams sprayed into Jamal’s mouth and across his face in powerful jets. She moaned his name over and over, trembling uncontrollably while he kept drinking and fingering her through every wave.

When the orgasm finally started to fade, Jamal kept sucking gently, licking every last drop from her sensitive, red n*****s. He pulled his fingers out slowly, shiny with her juices, and sat back. His lips and beard were wet with her milk, and the front of his shirt was soaked. The huge bulge in his jeans looked painful, the outline of his thick c**k pressing hard against the fabric.

Tasha lay back against the couch, chest heaving, her massive breasts still out and glistening. Slow drops of milk continued to leak from her n*****s, running down her skin. Her p***y throbbed with aftershocks, panties and shorts completely ruined.

Jamal wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes still dark with lust. He stood up, adjusting the obvious hard-on in his pants.

“I’ll come back tomorrow night,” he said, voice rough. “After the baby’s down. We ain’t finished with this.”

Tasha didn’t argue. She just nodded, still trying to catch her breath, her body already aching for more of his mouth… and everything else he could give her.

She stayed on the couch long after he left, t**s still heavy and leaking, p***y wet and pulsing. Tomorrow night couldn’t come fast enough.