MF FF lac futa inc
For your anniversary, your husband has taken you to La Bitte, the fancy up-market French restaurant in town for your birthday. Your in-laws are visiting from out of town so you decided to invite them to the meal. Your party of four is shown to your table by the maitre d' who passes you some menus, bows courteously and leaves. Men at other tables steal glimpses of your rack whilst talking to their wives, girlfriends or family. You look stunning in your tight black dress with a plunging neckline, your new black and red bra pushing your ample 34DD breasts up, forming a deep and inviting cleavage. Only you know about your matching panties, garter belt and stockings which you bought as a surprise for your husband.
I walk over, and introduce myself as your waiter for the evening as I light the candle at your table and adjust the cutlery. I ask if your party has been here before and your mother-in-law begins to explain how she came here many years ago. As she talks, I lean over to you, and slip my hand around your breast and begin lightly squeezing. I ask if the table would like any drinks, and your mother-in-law asks if I have any recommendations. Moving to your side, I reach around with both hands and stroke the outline of your breasts while I list off various suggestions. Your family mull over the decision, as I push my thumbs in to your dress and pull it down over your massive mounds, showing your beautiful new bra and milk filled titties to the room. Your father-in-law asks if there are any good cocktails. "As a matter of fact, sir, there is" I say with a grin as I squeeze the base of your breasts, and press them to the table obscenely. "I would recommend the 'le lait de vache'." Your family seem impressed with my French and your mother-in-law orders a round of the mysterious drink. "Very good, madame," I announce pushing your tits firmly together, "right away!". As your husband and his parents discuss the menu, I start pulling on your nipples through your bra, twisting them with my strong fingers. Squeezing the cups with my palms, I release your breasts out from their sexy confines, and let them settle on the table before renewing my grip on your hardened nipples. I pull them in a milking fashion, taking time to twist and massage them with each stroke. Taking one bulbous tit both hands, I squeeze and knead until drops of your natural milk start to form on your swollen nipple. I move to your next breast and repeat the same, until pearl white droplets of bitter breast milk dribble down your breasts on to the table. You stare mortified at your family who ignore your whispered protests as I start to dig my fingers hard in to your fat teats. I squeeze them forcefully until the pressure becomes too much and hot milk starts to squirt from your swollen nipples. The streams of your cream arch up across the table, splashing the dinnerware and tablecloth. Taking the invitation, your husband and his parents hold out their glasses as well as yours to catch the surge of fresh tittie milk. I continue to maul your breasts, forcing their contents out until the glasses were half full. "Voila!" I announce, "à votre santé!" Your family raise their drinks, your creamy milk swilling around the glass, and your husband looks at you with a raised eyebrow questioning your lack of participation in the toast. Trembling and humiliated, you pick up the glass of your freshly squeezed tit milk and raise it to your husband's and his parents. You watch revolted as they begin slurping down your produce, and I gently massage your sore udders before placing them back in the expensive lace bra. You hesitantly drink yours as well, not wanting to appear rude in front of your family. They compliment me on the drink, discussing the rich flavour, smooth texture and natural warmth. Refreshed, they all order their meals, and your husband orders for you. I leave you sitting with your heavy tits still on the table, milk dripping through the lace pattern.
I move across to the next table, seating a group of six businessmen apparently out for an expense-paid meal. I go the usual pleasantries with them before asking if they would like to order any drinks. The hair on your neck stands on end when you hear me recommend 'le lait de vache' to the whole table and they accept enthusiastically. "Très bon!" I say keenly. I walk back over to your table and excuse myself in front of your family and grab you by the hair. "Une minute, s'il vous plaît." You let out a short scream as I drag you from your chair to the next table, which everyone ignores. "Monsieurs?" I hold you by your hair in front of the group of greedy looking business men to inspect. The first man looks you up and down casually and narrows his eyes. I take the prompt and reach behind you with my free hand and tug on the zipper gently. Steadily I lower the fastening all the way down your back to your plump ass and nudge the tight form fitting dress down your hourglass figure. It lands in a pool around your high heels, and I present you in your black and red lace lingerie to the table like a fine bottle of wine, milk dripping from the swells of your nipples. The businessman at the head of the table nods, and I slip your bra straps down your shoulders, pulling down the cups holding your milky tits. Without wasting any time, I start compressing your breasts with my bare hands and roughly pull at the engorged nipples. Soon, streams of milk start to shoot across the table, and the men scramble to raise their glasses to collect your dairies. The milk spills everywhere, and two of the men, unable to fill their glasses simply lean forward and secure their parched mouths on to your udders. Greedily they suck down as much milk as they can before the other men push their faces in to your tits to have their fill. Their hands replace mine, all six groping and mashing your breasts to prise your precious milk in to their salivating mouths. With both hands free, I take out my aching erection and slide it up in to your lacey panties and start dry humping your smooth round ass, getting off on watching the men molest you next to your unwitting family. Feeling close to release, I pull you away from the men, their mouths frothing with your milk, and turn you around. Before you can protest anymore, I press you down to your knees and slide my cock between your hefty tits, lubricated with milk and spit. I bring my flatted hands down on your breasts, slapping them together on my shaft as I begin thrusting. I hold you by your irritated nipples and fuck your tits like a man possessed, the vulgar wet slapping noises filling the restaurant and masking your moans. I grab you once again by your hair and hold you against the table and point my cock at your face. "Ouvert, s'il vows plaît" I ask you politely, and mindlessly you comply, parting your red lips, opening your mouth wide. I release the first powerful shot of thick cum straight in to the back of your mouth, followed by several hefty discharges splashing your tonsils and dousing your tongue. I wipe my spent cock across your face and shake the last few drops on to your tits as you let the reservoir of my semen overflow your mouth and cascade over your chin on to your breasts. I stand you up and push you back on to the table, knocking over the placements. As you lay on your back, cum dribbling from your mouth, you see the six business men standing around you jacking their various erections around you. They begin to grope and fondle your fat milky tits, and rub their cocks over your exposed skin, before one by one they ejaculate over your face, hair and tits as I walk to the next table.
Your ears prick up again as you hear the next table order the same cocktail. I come to pick you up, leaving your dress on the floor, and your beautiful black and red lace lingerie soiled with cum and your own milk. Your family occasionally look around for you as they enjoy their meals while you are passed from table to table all evening.