Last week, my husband had the kind of day that breaks a man. One of his employees had passed away in a car accident the night before, and from there, everything that could go wrong did. When I caught a last-minute client, I called and asked if he could swing by my mom’s to pick up our son; I promised I’d be home shortly after to handle supper.
The moment I walked through the door, I saw it in his eyes. It was a much darker day than he’d let on over the phone. I didn’t say a word; I just stepped into his space and gave him a long, tight hug, followed by a kiss, trying to pull some of that tension out of his body and mind.
I kept things simple and comforting for dinner—grilled cheese and tomato soup, one of his favorites. Once our son was tucked away and asleep, I went to the bathroom and started filling our huge clawfoot tub with hot water. While it filled, I slipped into the kitchen and grabbed a quart jar from the fridge. It was full of the milk I’d pumped that morning. I brought it back and poured the breast milk into the hot bath, watching it cloud the water.
It had been over three hours since my last pump, and my breasts were heavy, aching with the desperate need to be drained. But tonight, I had a different plan for the relief I needed.
I stripped down, leaving my clothes in a heap, and walked into the living room where he was staring at a fishing show. When he turned his head and saw me standing there naked, a slight, genuine smile finally cracked through his somber expression. I held out my hand, silently inviting him, and helped pull him out of his chair.
As I led him toward the milky bath I’d prepared, I could feel the wall of tension around him finally starting to crumble. I helped him out of his clothes, and he slid into the tub first. I followed, settling between his legs so that my back was flush against his chest and my head rested right next to his.
The relief was instant. My swollen breasts partially floated in the warm, white water, easing the pressure. He reached around me, his large hands familiar and warm as they cupped me. His fingers found my nipples, giving them a soft, rhythmic pinch and pull. Immediately, several thin streams of milk sprayed from each breast, further clouding the water.
This has always been one of our favorite ways to connect. The intimacy of it is incredible. Feeling his hands milking me was a thousand times better than the cold, mechanical tug of the twin pumps I usually had attached to my boobs.
It wasn’t long before I felt the change in him. His cock, now thick and hard, began to grow and slip up against the small of my back—tangible proof that this was healing him as much as it was helping me. I reached over to add more hot water as needed, staying submerged while he continued to hand-express the milk from my nipples.
After we had poached ourselves long enough in that hot, milky sanctuary, we finally pried ourselves out. We shared a quick rinse in the shower, dried off, and I snuck a jar of Vaseline from a drawer before leading him back to the chair where I’d first found him.
I opened the jar and took a generous glob of the petroleum jelly, coating his hard cock from the tip down to the base until it glistened. I took a smaller amount, pressing it between my cheeks and slipping a finger into my puckered butthole.
I crawled on top of him, straddling his lap. Reaching back, I guided the head of his cock between my cheeks, positioning him right against my asshole. I lowered myself with slow, deliberate care, letting the head of him stretch me open before sliding the rest of the way down. I felt him sink deep, filling my rectum with his hard cock.
I placed my hands softly on his face, looking him dead in the eyes. “I love you,” I whispered, before leaning in to kiss him.
I began to move, a slow, grinding slide up and down as his cock slipped back and forth inside me. I leaned forward, pressing my leaking nipples to his lips. He latched perfectly, drawing me deep into his mouth. With every suck, my milk poured onto his tongue, and he swallowed it down as he moved beneath me.
About twenty minutes in, I felt his rhythm change; I knew he was close. I picked up the pace, leaning into him and burying his face between my breasts, rubbing them against his skin.
“Your cock feels so good in my ass,” I moaned, the friction bringing me right to the edge with him. “Oh, fuck. That’s it, honey. Fuck yeah, I want you to cum in me. Shoot your load up my ass!”
He let out a low, guttural groan. I sat down on him as hard as I could, rocking my hips to catch every bit of him.
“There you go, honey,” I urged, feeling him pulse deep inside. “Cum in my ass, shoot your load in my ass!”
“That was amazing,” I whispered into his ear, my breath drifting across his ear. “I love you, honey.”
He held me tight for a long moment, his face still buried in my cleavage. “You are the best wife a man could have,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled back just enough to look at me, a genuine, tired smile finally reaching his eyes. “You are truly one of a kind, and I am so glad you’re mine.”
The weight of his words felt better than the sex. I leaned in, clenching my butthole around his cock as tight as I possibly could—a little parting gift that made him wiggle—and then slowly slid upward. I felt him slip out of me, the softness of the Vaseline making the exit smooth and lingering.
I didn’t want him to move just yet. I stood up and walked softly to the bathroom, returning a moment later with a warm, soapy wash rag and a fresh, dry towel. I knelt between his legs and took my time cleaning him up, wiping away the remnants of the jelly and ourselves with gentle, caring strokes.
Once we were clean and we were both settled, we didn’t go straight to bed. The house was still, the stress of his terrible day finally replaced by a peaceful quiet. We moved over to the couch, tangling our limbs together and pulling a large, soft blanket over us.
Buried under the fleece, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, I knew he’d sleep better tonight. I rested my head on his chest, feeling the skin-to-skin contact, and became one with him.
