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by Victoria Blackstone
Published by Lot’s Cave
Momma’s Boy, © 2017, by Victoria Blackstone
All Rights Reserved
Cover by Morgaine Wrightman
All Characters In This Book Are Age 18 Or Older
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the Lot’s Cave website and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
A Lot’s Cave Novel
I could feel his eyes on me. Again. Of late, he’s been staring an awful lot; at my feet, at my legs, at my belly, rounded with eight months of pregnancy, swollen with his sister. And I knew that if I glanced up, I’d find his eyes on my chest, my breasts swollen with milk, my nipples aching for attention.
For months now his father has shown little to no interest in me, which sucks because I’ve never been more amorous than I have been since I began showing with this, our first daughter.
And for months now my nipples have been tingling for attention, as has my clit.
I lifted my gaze, not surprised to see Jake’s come up to meet mine. While he’s somewhat quiet, he’s most definitely not shy. I curled a finger at him, beckoning him to me.
He stood from his chair at the computer and ambled toward me, his gaze dropping briefly to warm my cleavage as he approached.
He shrugged. “Working on my report.”
I reached for his hand. “Are you on track?”
“Wanna do your momma a favor?” I asked, bringing his hand up and kissing his fingers.
“Don’t you wanna know what it is first?”
He shook his head, smiling. “Would you wanna know what I needed help with before agreeing?”
I laughed softly, charmed. “Such a sweet boy.”
He ducked his head. I said, “My feet hurt. Think you could find it in your heart to massage them?”
His gaze dropped to my lap, to the hem of my nightie, then shifted to the side as he nodded.
“Go grab the lotion from the sink in the bathroom?”
Again he nodded. I watched him walk off, my eyes slipping down from his broad back to his slacks, the thin cotton clinging to his gorgeous ass. He’s been working out fairly regularly for about the past three years, and now, just a couple weeks since turning eighteen, he’s got some pretty impressive muscles. And if the constant ringing of his phone is any indication, I’m not the only one who’s noticed.
I met his gaze as he approached, wondering, as I do every now and then, whether he’s still a virgin. I suspect he is but I’ve never felt the need to ask. I smiled at him as he sank to the floor at my feet. He returned it with his own, shy smile. His gaze swept over my chest, stopped to linger on my distended belly, then drifted down to the hem of my nightie. He cleared his throat gently as his eyes traveled down my legs. I’ve been exercising religiously and eating sensibly, and it shows; I’ve gained very little weight with this, my second pregnancy. If his near constant admiration is anything to go by, I still look good.
My stomach fluttered at the thought that, were my legs not crossed, he’d have an unobstructed view of my sheer, blue panties, of the neglected labia they made no real attempt to hide. I wiggled my toes as he filled his palm with a dollop of cream, and smiled when his gaze came up. “Such a handsome boy.”
He smiled shy, then lowered his gaze, again sweeping it slowly over me, eventually landing on my foot. He lifted it and began to work the lotion into my skin, softly at first, but I bit my lip when he began to push his thumbs into my sole, hoping to stifle the moan that so desperately wanted to escape.
“Soft,” he said, bringing his gaze up to mine.
I nodded. I’m a big fan of having my hands and feet pampered, and rarely do I go for more than a month without visiting my favorite salon. “I had a pedicure on Wednesday.”
He nodded, lowering his gaze to my toes, watching as they moved when he pushed into the muscles at the base of them. This time I lost the battle, releasing a soft moan. “Feels good, sweetheart.”
“Think I have a future in massage?”
“I think you have a future in whatever your little heart desires.”
“You’re my prettiest cheerleader,” he said, his gaze dropping, a shy smile pulling his lips.
“You think I’m pretty?”
Though he didn’t look up, he did nod.
“Even if it looks like I swallowed a beach ball?” I asked, running my palms over my satin-covered belly.
His eyes came up to watch my hands as they moved, and he nodded. “I think you look beautiful.”
Your father doesn't think so. I waited for his eyes to meet mine. “Thank you. You’re very sweet.”
He shrugged. My eyelids fluttered when his thumb dug into my arch, and as he continued the massage, my eyelids drooped further and further, until I could barely focus on him.
His gaze came up, then dropped immediately to my chest, lingering in the deep valley of cleavage for several moments before dropping to my thighs. He continued to stare, and though I knew he couldn’t see anything, it was still thrilling to have him so interested.
I continued to watch him, through slitted eyes, as I enjoyed the feel of his hands on me.
He’d been working his thumbs into my arch for at least the last five minutes, his gaze moving occasionally from my thighs to my chest. But I wanted his thumbs pushing into my other foot. “Switch,” I said, my tone lazy.
He stared openly, as I uncrossed my legs, but I kept my knees close together as, again, I crossed them. I wiggled my toes, gathering his attention, and though he smiled, he took his time in shifting his focus, and he went right to work, his thumbs digging in, making my toes flex open.
I bit my lip as I watched him work, his attention focused on his very capable hands, and for the next ten or so minutes neither of us spoke, but I was supremely relaxed and I rubbed the bottom of my foot against his thigh. “Wanna do my calves, sweetheart?”
Though our relative positions weren’t ideal, he did the best he could, and I couldn’t help but moan when he found a sensitive spot. I smiled when his gaze came up. “Sweet boy.”
He smiled, shy. For many minutes I stared down at him, and every so often he’d meet my gaze, returning my smile. But... “Your knees have to be hurting by now.”
He shrugged. “A little, yeah.”
I patted the cushion beside me. “Come lay down.”
He stood, eyeing the spot beside me, seeming to calculate the available space. I patted my thighs. “Lay down, sweetie.”
He lowered himself down, facing away from me, and lowered his head, gingerly, onto my lap. I ran my fingers into his hair and began pulling them through it. “Can’t see your eyes, baby boy.”
He turned onto his back, his ear pressed up against my belly, his gaze lingering on my breast.
I laughed softly. “You like your momma’s boobs, don’t you, baby boy?”
He nodded, a shy smile pulling his lips.
I ran my fingers through his hair. “I’m afraid they don’t look so good uncovered.” I traced his brow. “They’re all pale, with veins and stretch marks all over them.”
He licked his lips. Into the short silence, he said, “Can I, um...”
He didn’t need to finish the sentence; his expression said it all. I nodded when he met my gaze, and for several long moments he stared at my chest while I stared at his handsome face, his pretty brown eyes.
He met my gaze, silently willing me to let him see.
I nodded once. “Go on.”
Without hesitation, he reached for the tie that rested atop my distended middle, and began to pull at the tail. I held my breath as the smooth satin slid slowly over my skin, baring my belly and the deep valley between my breasts, leaving my nipples covered, but only just.
I watched his eager, young eyes as they moved over my swollen belly, over my heavy breasts. My stomach began to flutter when he reached for the edge of my robe, and I bit my lip to keep from moaning as the soft silk slid over my nipple.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his gaze coming up.
I touched his cheek with the tips of my fingers. “Think so, huh?”
He nodded, his gaze sweeping over my skin, warming me, and within moments I could feel my nipples hardening.
“Are you cold?”
I shook my head as I teased my fingers into his hair. “No, baby boy.”
“Do you have milk?”
“Some has been leaking out, now and then.”
He continued to stare, seemingly willing it to leak. I laughed softly. “I don’t think it’ll come out without stimulation.”
He brought his gaze up. He didn’t have the confidence to ask for what he wanted but I could see it in his eyes, plain as day. I hefted my breast with one hand while cupping the back of his head with the other, and pulled him toward me. His eyes came up as his lips closed around the hard, aching nub, and I moaned softly. “Suck, baby.”
He did, gently, seemingly afraid of hurting me. I caressed the back of his head while smiling down on him, content. “I won’t break.”
My smile faded as the pressure of his lips increased, as his tongue began to work at my nipple, teasing it, making my pussy tingle.
I continued to stare into his eyes, enjoying the connection, loving the feel of him pulling at my skin. It felt wonderful to have him back on my nipple after so many years. I caressed his cheek. “I loved to nurse you. You would stare up at me until your eyes grew so heavy that you’d fall asleep.” He smiled. I said, “I was a lot thinner back then.”
He released me. “You looked pretty before you got pregnant, and I think you look even prettier now.”
I gave him my warmest smile, and drew him back to my breast with the tips of my fingers. “Such a sweet boy.”
As the minutes passed he grew more confident, his lips and tongue growing more demanding, pulling harder and harder on my nipple, making it hard for me to focus. But the teasing felt absolutely divine. “Nibble now, baby,” I whispered, tapping the underside of his chin with a finger.
Though he complied, his teeth were covered. I pushed up, moaning at the increased contact, nodding. “You had no teeth,” I whispered. “You would chew on them with your little gums and I would moan to encourage you.” I moaned low in my throat when he bit down harder. “That’s it, baby boy.”
I uncoiled when he released me.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
I pulled him back to me. “You won’t hurt me, sweetheart, I promise.”
With the constant caress of my finger beneath his chin, he began to get more aggressive. “That’s it, honey.” I shivered when he uncovered his teeth, lightly grazing them over the thick teat. I nodded, encouraging him, even as I started a slow massage, willing the milk I knew was in there to come out. I had the strongest desire to feed him. “Suck, baby.”
My eyes slid closed at the increased stimulation but he mistook that as a signal to ease up. I shook my head. “Don’t let up.”
For many minutes he sucked, his tongue toying my nipple, and though he had no idea, his teasing was making me wet. Very wet. Not only could I feel the moisture between my lips, the air surrounding us was beginning to fill with the scent of my arousal. “Can you smell that, baby?” I whispered.
He opened his eyes. “Hm?”
I shook my head, as I teased the hair out of his face, and I’d just resumed my caress of his cheek when his eyes suddenly widened. “Milk?”
He nodded, the motion tugging at my nipple.
“Momma feed you?”
Again, he nodded.
“I love you, my sweet boy.”
As he continued to suck, his lips and tongue teasing me in the most delicious way, I moved my hand to his stomach and began to draw random designs around his belly button. When I could no longer resist, I allowed my gaze to drift lower. Not surprisingly, he was erect, and the thing was pushing aggressively at the front of his shorts. I brought my gaze up. “Hard,” I murmured.
He smiled, shy. I laughed softly, and for almost a full minute I teased the trail of hair at the base of his belly, but when the urge to touch him grew too strong, I drew my hand back up, dragging my nails over his skin, causing his back to arch. “Like that, sweetheart?”
He nodded, his tongue in constant motion as it worked my nipple.
My gaze locked with his, I went back to teasing his belly, the hair there, moving lower and lower, as the moments passed, until, with a soft sigh, I reached out and draw a finger over the front of his shorts, my touch barely there. He moaned around my nipple, his hips lifting as he tried to increase the pressure. Unable to resist the pull, I ran my palm over the length of him, marveling at the size, then closed my fingers around him, the best I could, and squeezed, watching his eyelids flutter as I did. “Thick,” I whispered.
He smiled. I brought my hand back up to his bare stomach, then higher, to massage his chest. I shook my head at his pleading look. “Not supposed to want your momma that way.”
His eyes slid closed in embarrassment. I brought my hand up to caress his cheek, then his lips, where they surrounded my nipple. His eyes opened, the pleading in them clear.
I drew my fingertip over his ear. “Wanna switch?”
He shook his head. I laughed. “That one’s getting sore, baby. They aren’t used to so much attention.”
He released the thick, swollen nub, leaving it wet and glistening, and I cupped my other breast, offering it to him, and though he reached for it, my pregnant belly prevented him from getting close enough. “Let me lay down.”