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Dear DiaryS JonesI was still breastfeeding my baby when my 17-year old brother-in-law came to stay with us for a few weeks. He is about a foot shorter than my husband, but of stockier build. My breasts were heavy and full and I caught Joe staring at me many times. Although I had basically regained my figure, I still felt like Betty Blimp, so his staring (and obvious excitement, judging by the bulge in his pants) pleased me. One morning, while I was making coffee for the three of us, I felt the heaviness of my full breasts and suddenly had the impulse to give my man a treat. I squeezed some milk out of my left breast into his mug. It fairly spurted out and the relief was immediate. My right boob started leaking (feeling even more bloated), so I did the same into Joe's mug. It gave me a big thrill to see them drink my special brand of coffee down to the last drop. That afternoon Joe came home flushed and out of breath. He immediately went to his room and then I heard our bathroom door. After a while I tiptoed down the corridor to see what he was up to. Was I pleasantly surprised! The bathroom door was slightly ajar: I could see him standing in front of the basin. He had one of my bras in one hand and with the other he was masturbating furiously. He suddenly put his nose in the bra, bent over backwards and held his penis out in front of him. It was a good two inches longer than my husband's, but not as thick. I was astounded at the amount of sperm he spurted into the basin, and how far he shot it out of his long, thin dick. I turned around and walked back to the kitchen with wobbly knees. How many times had he done that? Not that I minded, but I was sorry that I had only found out then! I was dripping wet and went into the bathroom as Joe came into the kitchen. The strong musky smell of his sperm still hung in the air. A quick rub across my swollen clitoris brought me off in a long, shuddering orgasm. The next morning I made coffee with cow's milk, and waited in the afternoon for Joe's return to see if he would do the same. To my disappointment, he didn't. At about four he asked for coffee. I made my special brand, giving him two spurts from each breast and took it to his room. He gulped it down and I left. After a few minutes he went to our bathroom. I followed. Again he had a bra (taken from the laundry basket), smelled it a few times and beat his meat to his (and my) content. I timed my entrance perfectly: he was still spurting away when I walked into the bathroom. He tried to hide his dick, but it had a mind of its own and jetted out two more big globs of goo. I stared at his penis: it was young, long and still jerking up and down. He stammered that he was sorry. Sorry? What for? I told him that I took it as a great compliment that he did what comes naturally to boys his age using ME for stimulation. He stared at my breasts (his naked, semi-erect member forgotten) and I realised that I was sporting the hardest and most visible pair of nipples in the world. Wet spots showed where they had started leaking. His penis, sagging slightly, then jerked up again. His erection grew with every beat of his heart till it was a full hard-on. I couldn't believe it! He had just emptied his balls, but he was ready to go again! What made me do it, I don't know, but I asked him whether he wouldn't prefer doing it in front of the real thing. He gulped, nodded, and I could see his balls tighten. My hands went to my shirt buttons of their own accord and before I knew it I stood in front of him, topless save my bra. He stared at my tits (nipples protruding through the lace) and started jerking his cock. I told him to slow down. I wasn't going anywhere and I was sure we both wanted it to last as long as possible. Then, using only his thumb and forefinger, he rubbed himself slowly with long strokes which pulled his foreskin up over his glans on the upstroke, and then pulled it down so that the tip of his prick bent down a bit. I couldn't keep my eyes off him and he stared at my breasts. I was breathing fast; he said he liked the way my tits went up and down. He then grabbed his cock in his fist and really let rip. My knees went lame in anticipation. He pulled his skin down hard and shot, pulled and shot ... The first few globs were small, but they shot right onto the mirror. The last few were big blobs that fell to the floor in slow-mo. With a last jerk, he squeezed out a few drops that ran down the length of his cock. I experienced the most incredible sensation ever: a mini-orgasm, and that was just from watching! I turned around and left him to clean up, putting on my shirt again. He came into the kitchen a few minutes later, blushing and stammering. He told me that he had never DREAMED anything like that would ever happen. He confessed to masturbating at night, thinking of my "titties". I confessed to peeking at him the day before and seeing his other performance. He blushed again, saying that he couldn't help himself. Then I told him about the fact that I had spiked his coffee with my milk. He licked his lips and looked down at his crotch: he was getting an erection again! I wanted to suggest another session, but my husband could be home any minute. Joe then said that he wouldn't do it a third time; it wasn't that he wasn't able to, it was just that his penis became too sore and sensitive. His record for a single night was an incredible six times, but he had regretted it for a week afterwards. That evening, when he was in the shower, I went to his room and put one of my panties under his pillow. I couldn't wait for the next morning to hear what he had to say. Unfortunately we could only talk that afternoon when he came home. He walked in and said that he had something to give me. It was my panty, encrusted with a night's ejaculations. He thanked me, and for the next time he wanted a panty that I had worn. He sometimes took one out of the laundry basket: it made him wild to smell me and to see the slight discharge I sometimes left. I felt myself getting wet and waited for his next comment, but he just asked for my special coffee. Although we had shared something wild, I was still shy, so I offered to bring him a cup to his room. He left and I made coffee; again my milk flowed in a big stream without my having to squeeze very hard. I found him sitting on his bed with a throbbing erection. He said he had peeked, watching me through the door, and that my breasts were beautiful. He had a big drop of clear pre-cum on his dickhead and I had to stop myself from bending over and licking it off. My top came off in a flash, his hand did its thing. Just before he came, he cupped his balls with his other hand. I was sitting facing him; he pointed his penis straight at me. The first small drops landed on my belly, while the following globs landed on my lap. He apologised; I just wiped my stomach. He offered to clean my skirt. I got up, staring at his still-throbbing penis. He wiped the spots, pressing my skirt onto my crotch where the biggest blob was. He went over the spot about ten times more than necessary. I shuddered, took his hand away and went to relieve my ache privately. That evening I put my worn panty under his pillow. It was still wet, so I rolled it up to keep it that way for as long as possible. The next morning he mouthed a thanks across the breakfast table, grinning like a maniac. That afternoon I wore a loose-fitting dungaree. The front panel covered my chest, so I could go "topless" for our exercise without really showing him my breasts. I joined him in his room and he really went wild with his cock. I watched him pump a load all over his bed and then bent over to help him wipe it up, forgetting all about my bare breasts. He stared intently at them and then I realised what had happened. He pointed at his still-erect dick, ready to go again without a rest. This guy was incredible! I slipped the straps off my shoulders and stood up. The dungaree fell to the floor. My nipples were hard and long and I was leaking like a sieve. My panty showed an enormous wet spot, but the material didn't go transparent. I watched as his cock jerked and his balls tightened. I slipped my hand into the front of my panty, wet my fingers and my palm and held them out for him to see and smell. He licked my palm and then started sucking on my fingers. He started moaning and then came, pumping his hips and shooting his semen into the air. He did not even touch himself! This time, I joined him. He saw me shuddering and watched with a gaping mouth. When I had finally finished, he told me that I had just given HIM the biggest compliment ever. We have progressed since then: we now masturbate together, sitting on his bed. I have touched him only once: that was to place a condom on his penis and roll it down to just under his head; he did the rest. It was his first time; he really loved the sensation and had no trouble in filling it completely (with his dick and his sperm). (He is one of the few guys I know that roll it down completely.) From watching him, I know exactly how he wants to be rubbed, when to squeeze his balls, when to wait for his jets of cum. He knows exactly how to rub my nipples, how to pull and pinch them till I can't stand it any longer, how to slowly part my lips to reveal my clit, how to rub and squeeze me till I go mad, how many fingers to use and how deep to go into me, BUT he hasn't touched me either. Once in a while I give him a real treat: I have a small 3-inch dildo that I used long ago to find my G-spot. He watches me intently while I fuck myself with it. The pulsing of his dick and the big globs of clear pre-cum he spills make me hardly ever last more than a few minutes before I explode. I leave it in me, and he watches as it moves with my throbbing pussy. He then stands in front of me, wanking away, till he shoots, usually right at my pubes. He frequently hits me right where my fanny lips meet, just above my clit. The sharp blasts are exquisite, and usually send me well on my way to the next explosion.
He hasn't asked to eat me … yet. But I just know I am going to agree - after all, he has to be taught that by someone.
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