The overhead compartment clicked shut just as the turbulence hit. Laura's fingers lingered on the cold metal latch, her swollen belly pressing into the seatback in front of her.
Across the aisle, the woman with the French twist was watching Laura's fingers tremble.
"You're leaking," she murmured, nodding toward the darkening patches on Laura's blouse. The airplane hummed around them, drowning out everything but the woman's low chuckle. "Third trimester does that to some of us. Like we're not already wet enough."
Laura's face burned hotter than the arousal pooling between her thighs. She crossed her arms over her chest, but the motion only made her stiff nipples scrape against the damp fabric. A shudder ran through her—half embarrassment, half pleasure.
The woman unfastened her seatbelt with deliberate slowness, her own rounded belly straining against the thin silk of her dress. "Jessica," she said, extending a hand with nails painted the deep red of arterial blood. Her perfume—something expensive and musky—blended with the scent of Laura's own milk. "And judging by those contractions you're trying to hide, we've got about twenty minutes before descent."
Laura exhaled sharply through her nose. The rhythmic clenching low in her belly wasn't pain. Not yet. Just her body's traitorous echo of the orgasm Jessica had wrung from her in the cramped bathroom an hour ago, fingertips pressing into Laura's distended abdomen as she came.
Jessica's thumb traced the inside of Laura's wrist now—a featherlight stroke that sent fresh slickness sliding down her inner thighs. The first-class cabin curtains were drawn. Somewhere behind them, flight attendants clinked glassware.
"You counted my contractions," Laura whispered. A drop of milk slid down her ribcage, ticklish and warm. Jessica leaned in close enough that Laura could see the faint stretch marks radiating from her cleavage, could taste the champagne on her breath when she replied, "I count everything worth counting."
The plane dipped sharply, sending Jessica’s knee bumping between Laura’s thighs. The pressure was accidental—surely accidental—but Laura’s hips jerked upward anyway, her swollen clit throbbing against the seam of her maternity leggings. The fabric was already soaked through.
"You’re still counting?" Laura hissed, gripping the armrests as Jessica’s fingers crept higher up her wrist, nails scraping lightly over the pulse point.
Jessica’s smile was slow, deliberate. "Mm. Seventeen contractions since I touched you in the galley. And you came twice—once when I sucked your nipples, once when I pressed your thighs around my fingers." Her palm slid over Laura’s knee, inching upward. "But you’re not done."
The overhead lights flickered as the plane banked left, casting shadows that made Jessica’s collarbones look sharp enough to cut. Laura’s breath hitched when Jessica’s fingertips found the wet spot on her leggings, circling with just enough pressure to tease. The cabin noise faded beneath the rush of blood in Laura’s ears—except for the wet, obscene sound of Jessica’s fingers working the fabric deeper between Laura’s swollen lips.
“You’re shaking,” Jessica murmured, her thumb dipping beneath the waistband to trace the crease where Laura’s thigh met her body. “And not from the turbulence.” Her other hand slid up Laura’s blouse, fingers skimming the tight skin of her belly before closing over a dripping nipple. Laura arched into the touch with a choked gasp, her hips grinding down against nothing. The seatbelt dug into her flesh as Jessica twisted her nipple sharply—just shy of pain.
A flight attendant’s voice crackled overhead, announcing descent. Jessica withdrew her hands, leaving Laura trembling, slick thighs pressed together. “They’ll dim the cabin lights soon,” Jessica said, wiping her fingers on Laura’s thigh with deliberate slowness. “Plenty of shadows.”
Laura barely registered the plane’s tilt as Jessica’s fingers hooked into the waistband of her leggings, yanking them down just enough. The chilled air kissed her wetness before Jessica’s palm smothered it—hot, insistent. Laura choked back a moan as two fingers slid inside her, curling upward. “You’re still so tight,” Jessica breathed, thumb circling Laura’s clit. “Like you’re trying to keep me in.”
The stretch burned deliciously when Jessica added a third finger, then a fourth, her knuckles pressing against Laura’s throbbing walls. Laura’s vision whited out as Jessica twisted her wrist—just a fraction—and Laura came with a silent scream, her body clamping down hard enough to milk Jessica’s fingers deeper. Wetness gushed over the seat, the scent of sex thick between them.
Jessica didn’t stop. Her free hand yanked Laura’s blouse down, capturing a stiff nipple between her lips just as the first hot spray hit her tongue. Laura’s back arched off the seat, her hips jerking erratically as Jessica drank her down, swallowing each pulse of milk with a hum of approval. The plane lurched again, Jessica’s fingers driving deeper with the motion, and Laura sobbed as another orgasm ripped through her, her thighs quivering around Jessica’s wrist.
The suction on her nipple was relentless, Jessica’s fingers pistoning inside her, the heel of her palm grinding against Laura’s clit with every thrust. Laura’s legs fell open wider, her body surrendering to the invasion, to the wet noises that filled the space between them—Jessica’s lips smacking around her nipple, the slick squelch of her knuckles fucking into Laura’s swollen cunt.
Jessica’s free hand gripped Laura’s thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh as she curled them just right, hitting that spot that made Laura’s vision blur. The orgasm hit like a freight train, her hips jerking wildly, her cunt clenching around Jessica’s fist, milk spraying hot and thick into Jessica’s waiting mouth. Jessica moaned, swallowing greedily, her tongue flicking over Laura’s nipple to coax out every last drop.
Laura’s fingers tangled in Jessica’s hair, holding her close as her body convulsed, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. Jessica’s knuckles pressed deeper, her wrist twisting slightly, and Laura whimpered, her thighs trembling as another wave crashed over her. The plane’s dimmed lights flickered, casting shadows that danced across Jessica’s face, her lips glistening with Laura’s milk.
Jessica finally withdrew, her fingers slick and glistening, and Laura sagged bonelessly into the seat, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The scent of sex hung heavy in the air, mingling with the stale airplane air conditioning. Jessica smirked, licking her fingers clean before offering Laura a napkin. “You might want to clean up before landing,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing. “You’re dripping.”
Laura barely had time to compose herself before the plane touched down, her body still thrumming with aftershocks. By the time she shuffled off the aircraft, her legs were unsteady, her blouse clinging damply to her chest. The baggage claim was a blur of noise and movement, her mind still hazy with pleasure. She barely registered the weight of her suitcase as she dragged it off the carousel, her phone buzzing insistently in her pocket.
The text from her husband was curt: Meeting ran long. Get a rideshare—expense it. The dismissal stung, but the flush between her thighs had already begun to simmer again. She tapped the app absently, her nipples stiffening anew under the thin fabric of her blouse as the humid New York air wrapped around her like an unspoken promise.
Jamal’s SUV smelled like pine and leather, with an undercurrent of something musky—his cologne, maybe, or the heady scent of his own arousal. She caught his gaze flicking to her chest in the rearview mirror, his thick fingers tightening on the steering wheel. "Long flight?" he asked, voice deeper than she expected. Heat prickled up her neck as she shifted, the wet silk of her leggings peeling away from her thighs with a sound that made his nostrils flare.
Her suitcase thumped into the trunk, and when Jamal leaned in to adjust it, his forearm brushed the side of her swollen belly. The contact sent a jolt straight to her clit, still throbbing from Jessica’s fists. His sleeve rode up, revealing corded muscle and a tattoo that curled around his wrist like a claim. Laura’s breath hitched. The car’s AC chilled the milk trickling from her nipples, the damp patches on her blouse darkening. Jamal’s tongue darted over his lower lip as he shut the trunk. "You, uh… need help with anything else?" The innuendo hung between them, thick as the humidity.
The leather seat sighed under Laura’s weight when she slid in, her thighs sticking to the upholstery. Jamal’s gaze flicked to the rearview again, lingering on the way her blouse gaped when she buckled the seatbelt under her belly. His knuckles whitened around the gearshift. The scent of her—milk and slick and spent orgasms—flooded the cabin. Laura deliberately spread her legs wider, watching his throat bob as the wet sound echoed. "Hot today," she murmured, fanning herself. A drop of sweat slid down Jamal’s temple. His jeans strained.
Traffic crawled. Laura let her hand drift high on her thigh, nails scraping the soaked fabric. Jamal’s Adam’s apple jumped when she hooked a finger under the waistband, peeling the leggings down just enough to expose swollen pink folds. He exhaled sharply through his nose. Her middle finger circled lazily, smearing slickness up to her clit. The SUV lurched—Jamal had stomped the brake, his bicep flexing. "Sorry," he gritted out. Laura hummed, pinching a stiff nipple between thumb and forefinger. A pearl of milk beaded, then dripped onto her skirt. Jamal’s jaw clenched.
She arched, dragging her slick fingers up her belly to swirl the milk into her navel. The scent—musky, sweet—filled the car. Jamal adjusted himself roughly, denim stretching. Laura moaned softly, rolling her clit between two fingers. His knuckles cracked against the steering wheel. "Fuck," he muttered. Her other hand tugged her blouse lower, squeezing her breast until milk spurted in a thin arc, splattering the console between them. Jamal’s breath stuttered. The car swerved slightly.
Laura spread her thighs wider, the wet fabric of her leggings peeling away with a sticky sound. "You like watching?" she purred, rubbing slow circles around her swollen lips. Jamal’s throat worked. His thigh flexed, pressing against the gearshift. She pinched her nipple hard—a sharp gasp escaping her as milk dribbled down her wrist. His nostrils flared, eyes darting between her thighs and the road. Her fingers plunged inside herself, curling. The squelch was obscene. Jamal’s teeth sank into his bottom lip.
She rocked her hips, fucking herself with three fingers, her other hand squeezing her breast rhythmically. Milk spurted in erratic pulses, pooling on the leather seat between her thighs. Jamal’s fingers twitched toward his zipper. Laura arched, pressing her thighs apart so he could see the pink glisten of her stretched hole. "Touch yourself," she whispered. His groan vibrated through the steering wheel.
Traffic ground to a halt. Jamal’s palm slapped down on his thigh, fingers creeping toward the bulge in his jeans. Laura’s cunt clenched around nothing, imagining his calloused fingers replacing hers. She flicked her clit faster, her breath hitching as she watched his grip tighten. His cock strained against denim, the outline obscenely thick. Milk dripped onto her skirt in fat droplets. Jamal’s free hand yanked at his collar, veins standing out on his forearm.
The zipper hissed open. Laura’s mouth watered. His cock sprang free—broad as a soda can, the head flushed purple and glistening. A thick vein pulsed along the underside. Jamal’s fist wrapped around the base, his thumb smearing precome over the slit. Laura moaned, twisting both nipples hard enough to send twin streams of milk arcing across the console. His nostrils flared, his hips jerking into his own grip. The scent of her arousal mixed with the musk of his sweat, saturating the air.
Traffic inched forward. Jamal’s thighs flexed as he pumped his cock in slow, deliberate strokes, his gaze locked on Laura’s fingers circling her clit. She spread her legs wider, her swollen lips glistening. “Fuck,” he rasped, his thumb rubbing over the leaking tip. Laura arched, squeezing her breasts together, milk dribbling down her sternum. Jamal’s breath hitched—his grip tightened, foreskin bunching at the crown with each upward stroke. The leather seat creaked as she ground her hips, her cunt clenching around nothing.
Laura’s fingers slid lower, spreading her slickness in thick, audible strokes. Jamal’s nostrils flared, his cock twitching. She pinched a nipple, twisting hard—milk sprayed in a thin arc, splattering his wrist. He groaned, his hips bucking into his fist. “You like that?” she murmured, dragging her fingertips through the pooling wetness between her thighs. Jamal’s jaw clenched, his strokes quickening. The scent of her—salt and musk—filled the car.
The SUV jerked to a stop outside her apartment building. Laura leaned forward, her breath hot against Jamal’s ear. “Help me with my bags?” Her teeth grazed his earlobe. He shuddered, hastily tucking himself back into his jeans, the damp spot on his thigh glistening.
Inside the elevator, Laura pressed against him, her belly bumping his hip. Jamal’s fingers twitched at his sides—until she grabbed his wrist and pressed his palm to her swollen breast. Milk seeped through his fingers. The elevator dinged. Her apartment door clicked open.
Luggage abandoned in the foyer, Jamal backed her toward the couch, his hands rough on her waist. "Been imagining this since you got in my car," he growled against her neck, teeth scraping the pulse point. Laura’s knees hit the couch cushions. She gasped as he yanked her leggings down, the wet fabric clinging before giving way.
Jamal’s fingers dug into her hips—too hard, just enough to leave marks—as he shoved her forward. Laura’s swollen belly pressed into the cushions, her ass arched high. The first thrust stole her breath. Ten inches splitting her open, balls slapping against her clit in one brutal stroke. Laura screamed, milk spraying in twin arcs onto the upholstery as her cunt convulsed around him.
“Fuck,” Jamal growled, his grip bruising as he dragged her back onto his cock. Her slick dripped down his thighs, the wet slap of skin drowning out the hum of the refrigerator. Laura clawed at the couch, her back arching as he pistoned into her, each thrust punching a fresh squirt from her swollen pussy. The cushions darkened beneath her, the scent of sex and milk thick enough to taste.
Jamal’s fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her head back as his other hand groped her bouncing tit. A stream of milk sprayed across the coffee table, the sharp sweetness mingling with the musk of her orgasm. “Take it,” he snarled, his hips snapping forward hard enough to make her belly jolt. Laura sobbed, her walls fluttering around the brutal stretch of him, her clit throbbing against the ridge of his pelvis.
The couch groaned under their weight as Jamal shifted, dragging her knees wider apart. His balls slapped against her slick folds, the sound obscenely loud in the empty apartment. Laura’s fingers scrabbled at the upholstery, her vision blurring as he angled deeper—that thick vein along his shaft rubbing just right inside her. A fresh gush of fluid soaked the cushions beneath her, the scent of her arousal thick enough to choke on.
Jamal’s thumbs found her nipples, the pads rough against the stretched, hypersensitive skin. He pinched hard—not teasing, not gentle—twisting until Laura’s back arched off the couch, a broken scream tearing from her throat. Milk sprayed in erratic pulses, hot streaks painting her collarbones, her chin, the side of Jamal’s stubbled jaw. He licked his lips, watching her tits bounce with each punishing thrust, her swollen belly quivering.
“That’s it,” he growled, tightening his grip until her nipples whitened under the pressure. Laura’s vision splintered—her cunt clamped down on his cock like a vise, her orgasm hitting with the force of a freight train. Jamal didn’t slow. He fucked her through it, his hips slamming forward, his balls slapping wet against her clit with every drive home. Laura’s thighs trembled, her toes curling into the cushions as another gush of slickness soaked the leather beneath her.
Jamal’s fingers twisted harder—her nipples pulsed in time with her convulsions, milk spurting in erratic arcs across her heaving chest. The pain melted into white-hot pleasure, her body singing with every brutal thrust. She could feel him everywhere—the stretch of his cock splitting her open, the scrape of his calloused palms, the hot drip of her own arousal down her thighs. His rhythm stuttered, his grip tightening as he bottomed out inside her. “Gonna fill you up,” he gritted out, his voice raw. Laura sobbed, her cunt fluttering around him, milking him deeper.
Her orgasm crashed over her in waves, rolling and relentless, each climax cresting higher than the last. Jamal’s thumb rubbed rough circles over her clit, the pressure just shy of unbearable. Her vision blurred—stars danced at the edges, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The couch groaned beneath them as Jamal pistoned into her, his hips snapping forward with bruising force. Laura’s fingers scrambled for purchase, her nails biting into the leather as another gush of slickness soaked the cushions.
Jamal’s grip tightened on her nipples—twisting, pulling—until the pain melted into molten pleasure. A scream tore from her throat as milk sprayed in wild arcs, splattering across Jamal’s chest and chin. He growled, his lips parting to catch the hot streams on his tongue. Laura’s back arched off the couch, her body suspended between agony and ecstasy as Jamal drove into her with punishing strokes, his cock stretching her impossibly wider.
The air crackled between them, thick with the scent of sex and milk and sweat. Jamal’s thrusts grew erratic—short, brutal snaps of his hips that punched ragged moans from Laura’s throat. His balls slapped against her clit with every plunge, the wet smack echoing through the apartment. Laura’s vision whited out, her cunt clamping down like a vise as her orgasm ripped through her. Jamal swore through gritted teeth, his fingers digging bruises into her hips as he bottomed out inside her.
Her body convulsed, slickness gushing around his cock in hot pulses. Jamal’s rhythm stuttered—once, twice—before he stilled, buried to the hilt. A growl tore from his chest as he came, thick ropes of cum flooding her depths. Laura gasped, her walls fluttering around him, milking every last drop. The pressure was unbearable, exquisite—her swollen clit throbbed against his pelvis, sending aftershocks trembling through her limbs.
Jamal’s fingers tightened on her hips, blunt nails biting into flesh as he ground deeper, forcing her to take every inch. Laura’s vision blurred at the edges, consciousness fraying like a thread pulled too taut. Her nipples pulsed, milk dribbling in erratic streams down her belly, mingling with the sweat-slicked leather beneath her. The scent of sex, sharp and musky, clung to the air.
With one final, brutal thrust, Jamal stilled inside her. Laura felt his cock twitch—thick, deep pulses of heat flooding her already-stretched cunt. His breath hissed through clenched teeth, his grip tightening until she whimpered. Then, without warning, he pulled out, the sudden emptiness making her thighs quiver. His cum trickled down her inner thighs, hot against her flushed skin. She barely had time to register the loss before he was tucking himself back into his jeans, the damp fabric straining around his softening cock.
Laura collapsed face-first into the couch cushions, her body limp. The leather was sticky beneath her belly, soaked with milk and slick. She heard the jingle of keys, the shuffle of boots on hardwood. Jamal paused at the door, glancing back over his shoulder. The smirk on his face was predatory, his gaze lingering on the way her ass still twitched with aftershocks. "Next time," he said, voice rough with spent arousal, "I'll bring a friend to share the ride." The door clicked shut behind him before Laura could muster a response.
