Elara looked over the rolling fields of her farm, the wheat swaying in the gentle breeze like a golden sea. "John," she called out to her husband, "I've got something to show you." Her voice carried the excitement of a child with a newfound secret.
John wiped the sweat from his brow, his muscular frame heaving slightly from the day's work. "What is it, love?"
Elara led him into the kitchen, where a wooden table was laid out with a small plate and a knife. On the plate, a pat of butter glowed like a small sun in the soft light. "Taste this," she said, her eyes sparkling with a mix of anticipation and nerves.
John took a bite of the freshly baked bread slathered in the golden butter. His eyes widened, and his mouth formed a silent 'Oh'. "Elara, this is...incredible," he managed to say after swallowing. "What did you do differently?"
With a blush creeping up her cheeks, Elara shared her discovery. "It's not what I did, but rather, it's what I used." She paused, gathering her courage. "I've been using my own milk."
John stared at her, the bread momentarily forgotten in his hand. "Your milk?" He searched her face for a sign of jest, but found none. "As in...breast milk?"
Elara nodded, her cheeks flaming. "I know it sounds strange, but it's the creamiest, most delicious butter I've ever made. It's been a boon for us. We can't keep up with the demand at the market."
Elara discovers a unique method for making butter using her breast milk, which becomes highly popular at the market. She shares the secret with her husband John, who is surprised but supportive, acknowledging the positive impact on their livelihood.
John looked from his wife to the butter and back again. His eyes were wide with amazement. "This is...extraordinary," he said finally. "But are you sure you want to keep doing this?"
Elara nodded firmly. "It's a gift, John. Something that's come to me naturally. And think of the coin we could make. No one else has a secret like this."
John leaned over and kissed her forehead, his eyes still wide. "You're right. It's...it's something special." He paused for a moment, his hand on her shoulder.
Elara took a deep breath, her chest swelling with milk. Her shirt was already showing signs of her secret, the fabric darkening with wetness around her nipples. "John, this much I ever see"
John nodded, though his gaze remained fixed on her breasts. "It's just...I've never seen you like this before." He reached out and gently touched her swollen breast, his thumb brushing over her erect nipple.
Elara's body reacted instinctively to his touch, a shiver running down her spine. "John," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "We can't let this go to waste."
John expresses amazement and concern regarding Elara's secret recipe, questioning if they should continue. Elara is firm on her decision, seeing it as a gift and a way to provide for their son Timmy, who has been weaned and is healthy on goat's milk. The conversation turns intimate as John touches her, acknowledging the physical changes it has brought to her body.
John's gaze lingered on her chest, his hand still resting gently on her. The fabric of her shirt was taut against her skin, the outline of her full nipples clearly visible. He swallowed hard. "No, we can't," he agreed, his voice gruff.
Elara took another deep breath, the weight of her milk-filled breasts growing more pronounced with each inhale. She reached down and began to unbutton her shirt, her eyes never leaving John's. "I have more milk than he can ever drink," she murmured, "and I hate to see it go to waste."
John's eyes darkened as he watched her, his hand moving from her waist to her breast, cupping it gently. "It's a gift," he agreed, his voice low and hungry. "And I intend to savor it."
Without another word, Elara shrugged off her shirt, letting it fall to the floor. She unhooked her bra and let her breasts spill free, the milk already dripping from her nipples onto the floor. John's eyes followed the trail of milk down her stomach, his own desire growing with each drop.
He stepped closer, his hand moving to her breast, his thumb brushing the nipple. Elara gasped softly, her knees weakening at the sensation. "John," she whispered, "we can't let this affect us."
John leaned down, his breath hot against her skin as he kissed the top of her breast. "Elara, I can't help it," he murmured. "You're so...so tempting." He took her nipple into his mouth, suckling gently.
John's attraction to Elara's newfound asset grows as they continue to discuss the implications of her secret. Elara reveals her discomfort with the excess milk and John's desire for her intensifies as he begins to touch and kiss her breasts, leading to an intimate moment that suggests their relationship may evolve around the unique butter production.
Elara's eyes rolled back in her head, the sensation of his tongue on her sensitive flesh overwhelming. "John," she gasped, her hands tangling in his hair. "We can't..." But even as she said the words, she felt her resolve slipping away.
John's eyes remained closed, lost in the sweetness of her milk and the feel of her flesh in his mouth. "Mm," he murmured, his voice muffled by her breast. "So good, Elara." He began to suck in earnest, the sound echoing in the quiet kitchen.
Elara's breathing grew ragged as she felt her milk begin to flow, filling John's mouth. She watched, half in shock, half in arousal, as he swallowed greedily. "John," she panted, "please...not for this...it's for the butter..."
John pulled away, his eyes snapping open. He stared at her for a moment, his cheeks flushed, before understanding dawned. He swiped a hand over his mouth, the taste of her milk still lingering. "Elara," he said, his voice hoarse, "you're right." He took a step back, his hand dropping to his side. "We need to focus on the business."
Elara nodded, trying to ignore the ache in her chest. She quickly buttoned her shirt, tucking her breasts back into their confines. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice shaky. "It's just...it's a strange situation we find ourselves in."
John stepped back, his eyes still on her, his gaze intense. "It is," he agreed, "but it's also...exciting in a way."
Elara took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. She grabbed a bowl from the shelf and placed it on the counter. With trembling hands, she unbuttoned her shirt once more, letting her breasts fall free. The cool air of the room brushed against her skin, causing her nipples to harden even further. She pressed one to the bowl, her milk spurting out in a warm stream. The sound of it hitting the ceramic filled the room, a stark contrast to the silence that had fallen between them.
John watched, his eyes glued to her breasts, his own desire still evident in his expression. He took a step closer, the tip of his finger tracing the path of milk that had escaped the bowl and trailed down her stomach. "The villagers could be talking about it," he murmured, his voice thick with need.
Elara's breath hitched, her resolve wavering. "John," she began, but his mouth was already on her, his lips closing around her nipple. The sensation was exquisite, her milk flowing into him as his tongue danced over her sensitive flesh. She felt her knees give way slightly, her body responding to the pleasure of his touch.
John's eyes never left hers as he drank from her, the sound of his swallows punctuating the quiet of the kitchen. "They won't know," he murmured against her skin, his breath warm and moist. "It'll be our little secret."
Elara's hand found his hair again, her fingers tightening in the soft strands as he moved to her other breast, his mouth closing around her nipple. She bit her lip to stifle a moan, the sensation of his teeth gently scraping against her flesh sending a jolt of pleasure through her body.
John's eyes remained on hers, a question in their depths. "Elara," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin, "are you sure this is what you want?"
Elara nodded, her chest heaving with each breath. "Yes," she murmured, her voice a mix of excitement and apprehension. "It's just...it feels so good."
John's hand slid down her body, his fingers tracing the curve of her hip before settling between her legs. She was already wet, her desire evident even through her skirt. "I know," he said, his voice low and reassuring. "But we have to be careful."
Elara's eyes drifted shut, lost in the sensation of his mouth on her. She couldn't help but wonder what the villagers would think if they knew. Would they be repulsed? Fascinated? Would they demand to know her secret? Or would they beg for a taste? The thought of their curiosity, their hunger for something so personal, sent a thrill through her.