Her Beautiful Leaking Little Tits

With only a minor amount of grumbling from Shelly, we arranged ourselves to do just that. Chris lay upon his back, his twitching rod straight like an arrow as Shelly lowered her well-treated pussy down upon his waiting face – and she regarded the both of us with a look of utter sinfulness as she watched my wife go to town upon her own juices slathered over her husband's cock, and further to watch me line up and take Shelly doggy-style.

"Is this where you imagined our evening would take us, Marcky boy?" Heather purred at me.

"Honestly, I was plenty happy with a quick glimpse of your boob," I shrugged. "Everything else has basically been the best cherry on top of the most awesome sundae the world has ever known!"

Heather smirked at that, before lolling back into sheer bliss as Chris ate her out and she watched me fuck Shelly.

"Don't hold back, babe," Shelly implored of me, between mouthfuls of Chris's cock. "I need to come bad."

"I know it, girl," I told her. "You go on and suck that man's cock. I'll have you there in good time."

"Your wife sucks my husband's cock good, doesn't she?" Heather asked of me, grinning hugely at being able to say such a thing.

"She certainly does," I could only agree.

"Look at the bad girl go," Heather purred, even as Shelly's moans began anew. "Chris's cock in one end, and your cock in the other. Such a slut."

"She's a good girl, our Shelly. She deserves nothing less than a long hard ramming from a cock in every hole," I grinned – I knew Shelly secretly loved being denigrated during sex, and I could only assume she must have confided as much in her gal-pal Heather on some previous occasion.

"Mmm yes," Heather groaned, pinching her still-leaking nipples and lolling her eyes at the idea of Shelly being used every which way; a quick squirt of milk needled out from her boobs as she pinched them, spraying along my wife's beautiful bared back and up my sweaty, hairy torso.

"Look at her go," Heather continued, grinning as she watched me massage her breastmilk into Shelly's back. "Such a good little slut – grinding back against you, eating Chris like there's no tomorrow, sucking and slurping my cunt juices off his long diamond-hard cock..."

It was working. Shelly was nearly beside herself now, her moans growing exponentially in volume and frequency. Shelly's orgasms, while often long and drawn-out affairs, were very often all the bigger and better for the work required – and as I pounded my wife's gorgeous pussy with my own record-setting long rod, as she deep-throated furiously against Chris's mightily impressive stamina, and as she looked up to lock eyes with Heather as she gyrated naked upon her husband's mouth with her beautiful leaking little tits in her hands, the last remnants of Shelly's control wilted away and she came, she came for me, she came before all of us and she came long and hard and loud, leaving off of Chris's cock to roar out her pleasure in the sexiest, fullest-chested bellow I had ever heard from her.

"Yes!" Heather cried, exuberant in finally witnessing her best friend's orgasm. "Oh Shelly, you come so beautifully!"

"Thanks babe," Shelly returned between gasps. She pulled away from me to climb over Chris's prostrate form to squat atop Chris's muscular chest; she enveloped Heather in her arms, and they kissed long and passionately.

Chris and I found ourselves watching our wives getting into each other yet again. "Can't complain about the view, eh Marcus?" Chris reckoned, from his vantage point between our wives bare-naked pelvises.

"It's a sight to behold, that's for sure," I reckoned, absent-mindedly palming my cock and working my wife's juices into my member.

"Fucking hell but I'm close," Chris added.

I laughed at that. "I've been wondering how you've been holding up under the onslaught, mate! These ladies have been working that big old horse's cock of yours pretty hard."

Chris laughed at my coarse praise. "And look at you, mate! You must have gained two inches since we've started. You'll put me to shame if you keep that up."

"Yeah, I'm a grower," I confirmed, modestly. "And I gotta say, I'm getting pretty fucking close to blowing my load too."

"Uh oh – the boys need relief," Shelly commented.

"I reckon we'd better finish them off," Heather agreed. "Now Marc, you haven't fucked me yet – and I want you to fuck me good and hard, okay?"

"Fine by me!" I enthused.

"Give her both barrels, babe," Shelly encouraged, with a warm and welcome smile even as she bent over before Chris for her own fucking.

"I reckon you're both in for a hot white load, ladies," I told the girls.

Heather came up to me and grabbed me for another long, lusty tongue-kiss – and while I'd always enjoyed kissing my Shelly, never before have I ever felt as desired by somebody as Heather was making me feel now.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted you," she murmured quietly to me, even as her husband was already pounding into my wife. "You and your dumb stubborn refusal to look at my boobs – you have no idea how much that has teased me!"

"I wish I knew," was all I could say. "I wanted to look at them but I denied myself. I was sure I was doing the right thing."

"Oh, you were doing the right thing," Heather agreed, grinning and biting her lip as she ground her moistened mound against my aching hard-on. "But sometimes, the right thing can be wrong."

We kissed one last time at that, before she shot another heart-stopping grin at me and about-faced to again waggle her pussy at me invitingly. I wasn't going to miss the hint this time – I grabbed her hips, lined us up, and bullied my blunt-ended cock deep and hard into her hot, soft, velety box.

"Ohhhhh yes," she hissed as I did so. "Oh Marc. Oh Marc, you have grown, you're so much bigger..."

I eased us into the fucking, withdrawing my length slow and lingering before sliding home once again, and again, and again. I was fucking Heather. After the better part of a year of hidden and forbidden fantasies, I was finally fucking this beautiful woman with her perky dripping tits. We fucked, my best friend's wife and I, as we watched my best friend pounding mercilessly into my own wife; they were well into the boil, Chris was looking like he was achingly close to the brink, but I knew that he was holding off, forestalling against the release of his load – much as I often did – until our Shelly had again built back up to her own agonisingly high peak.

We fucked on, Chris plunging into Shelly and I into Heather. Heather pulled at her dripping nipples, soaked her fingers in her milk and reached back, finding my mouth and feeding me, allowing me to taste again of her sweetness. I revelled at the closeness this brought. Much as in sampling Shelly's own few drops of milk on occasion, feeding from Heather's beautiful product and gaining sustenance and nourishment from her milk – it fed and reinforced such a wonderful, intimate connection between us.

Such a beautiful woman, our Heather. How fortunate I was to be able to join with her, fucking her even in celebration of my bond with my own wife, and how happy I was that my improved behaviour towards a breastfeeding woman had somehow brought us all to this point.

Our orgasms were upon us – we all watched each other fucking, dogging before our spouses, fucking each other's partners in front of our own partners, Chris and I plunging our cocks deep hard and unfettered into Shelly and Heather. Shelly was nearly there, Chris had been teetering on the brink forever and a day, Heather was rushing towards yet another orgasm and I – I could feel it, it was coming, it was a big one and it was coming fast.

All as one, we came, we came and we came hard, our cries and bellows and screams intermingling as Chris jolted my Shelly with one last thrust and Shelly grasped Heather's hands and screamed as Heather's pussy constricted and convulsed around my cock as it pumped and it shot and it filled Heather's depths with my hot white essence, and we came and we came and we all came together as one.

Finally and eventually, we descended from our highs, Chris and I nearly collapsed forwards upon our mounts as Heather and Shelly kissed each other yet again, long and lingering and lovingly. We were all spent, sweaty and gasping and done, all in such close proximity that Chris and I were even able to reach out and give each other an exhausted high five – which in any other situation may have seemed trite but here, now, having done what we'd done and shared what we shared, nothing less than a genuine high five would do.

The night didn't end there. We stayed up well into the wee hours of the morning, naked and unabashed; we all fed from Heather's unending supply, our ardours re-stoked and we fucked each other all again, trying out each and every M-to-F and F-to-F permutation that came to mind. And after a few hours' sleep we collected our progeny and went on our way, Shelly and I feeling closer and more in love than ever, safe and secure in the knowledge that we adored and trusted each other enough to share each other with our nearest and dearest, and to love every second of it.

Over the years our relationship remained solid, and our friendship – and love for – Heather and Chris remained solid too. Shelly and I stopped at two children, the old-fashioned pigeon pair, but Heather and Chris have four kids now with a fifth on the way. And we all joke about it – though I suspect there's more than a grain of truth to the accusation – that the main reason Heather keeps cranking out children is to ensure a never-ending supply of breastmilk for all of us.

Can't complain about that at all. And you can be sure: every time she pulls out her boob for a feeding, and every time she puts it away again, I make sure to have a good gander.

A gentleman always sneaks a peek, after all.