Baby’s Milk

Zero to ten happened real fast. My wife was pregnant, had cancer and I was a damn P.E teacher part time at a junior high school. In a word, my life was shit, and it was only getting shittier by the day.

Jessica, my beautiful wife had opted out of chemo. She didn’t want to hurt the baby but she was waning fast. I sold everything, both over and under the table. We were living in a one bedroom house in a crap neighborhood and it was pretty much rock bottom. 
It started off by me going on sites and selling her underwear. Obviously used. She didn’t care, she was dying and her baby girl was due soon. We needed the money. 


I got a few hits with the tag line “Prego used panties” and was amused at just how many I sold. 
Then another hit came in. It was simple: “She got milk?”
I shrugged it off. Yeah but who cares?
Apparently a lot of guys did. 
They were willing to pay $100 a jar if pictures of Jessica were included. 
“Jesus fuck.” I said, she looked over my shoulder. “Just do it Brad. What do I care?”
We made a thousand dollars that week.

It wasn’t until I had her hooked up to machines, tits full and hanging as she pumped out her milk that I started to get turned on. It was pure fucking womanhood. Her swollen belly, protruding breasts and beautiful face scrunched up in discomfort as cups sucked at her nipples. 
“I don’t think I have much more.” She whined, I’m starting to feel like cattle.”
“Just a bit more Jess.” I say, “Think of the baby” I’m currently thinking of my hard cock. 


Sex with Jessica that night feels feral. She pants like a bitch in heat while I fuck her doggy style. Her body is rail thin apart from her breasts and belly, the cancer taking its toll, she feels like she might break but I continue thrusting in her with as much ferocity as I can, never knowing which time will be my last.

Two weeks later it was my last. She died in labor giving birth to a beautiful baby girl. Julep. 
Julep grew to be as beautiful as her mother. Pouty red lips, long golden hair, and skin the color of a china doll. Her body had a lithe fragility to it. As if mocking her mother’s final form. I remember when her breast began to bud. How she bloomed. She went from little girl on a trike to tight tween on a bike with what felt like moments. 
The neighborhood gangs leered at her. Eyes hungry and she went up and down the block with her friends. 
At ten I saw the neighbor boy caressing her while pushing her on the swing set, and I stopped letting her go outside to play. 


I had to get her out of this neighborhood. But on my budget, I couldn’t afford more than the one bedroom house she had been born in. 
That’s when I remembered the panty trick. 
“Julep flower, hand me your dirty clothes I’m doing the laundry.”
She turned, big brown eyes just like her mother’s staring back at me in surprise.
“Why Daddy? Isn’t that my chore?”
“You’ve been a good girl sweet heart, go upstairs and finish your homework and we’ll watch a movie.”
Her smile was stunning as she leaped up to the bedroom to get her work done.

Meanwhile I sifted through her tiny dirty garments. Pink with frilly lace, white with hearts on it, I laid them all out and took pictures and threw them online. Before she bounded down the stairs new budding breasts bouncing I had already sold three pairs.


She fell asleep half way through Willy Wonka, head on my lap, body laid along the couch.