The scent of charcoal and citronella candles hung heavy in the humid evening air. Laughter and the clinking of wine glasses formed a casual symphony of suburban normalcy that felt like a thin veneer over the raw, primal reality of Julie’s life. She stood near the edge of Jim’s colleague’s backyard, a plastic cup of untouched lemonade in her hand, her body humming with a secret that screamed to be told.
The party was in full swing, but all Julie could focus on was the ache in her full breasts and the faint, insistent pull in her lower belly. Little Marcus, swaddled in a light blanket, began to fuss in the stroller Jim was nervously rocking with his foot.
“I think he’s hungry, ” Jim said, his voice tight. His eyes, which once looked at her with desire, now held only a complex mix of resentment, duty, and a lingering, shameful arousal.
“I’ll take him inside, ” Julie murmured, already reaching for the handle of the stroller.
“No, ” a voice said from behind them, smooth as dark velvet and laced with absolute authority. Marc. He stood there, looking effortlessly powerful in a dark linen shirt, a drink in his hand as if he’d been a welcome guest all along. His gaze was fixed on Julie, igniting every nerve ending. “Feed him here.”
Julie’s breath hitched. Here? On a patio surrounded by their neighbors? Jim looked like he’d been struck. “Marc, for Christ’s sake, people will see, ” he hissed, his face flushing.
“Let them see, ” Marc said, his voice dropping to a intimate, commanding pitch meant only for them. “A mother feeding her child is a beautiful thing. Isn’t it, Jim? You don’t want the baby to cry and cause a scene, do you? Take him. Sit. Feed him.”
It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a directive. Jim’s jaw tightened, but the threat of a scene�the threat of Marc�was enough. With trembling hands, he unbuckled the baby and handed the squirming bundle to Julie. She found a slightly secluded bench under a large umbrella, her back to the majority of the party, but with a clear line of sight to several other guests. Jim stood nearby, a sentry of misery and arousal, his body rigid.
With shaking fingers, Julie unbuttoned the top of her summery dress, pulling the fabric aside. Her breast, heavy and veined with blue, was already beading with milk. Little Marcus latched on with a hungry sigh, his tiny mouth working rhythmically. The sensation was a deep, pulling relief, a biological function that should have been private. But under Marc’s dark, watching eyes, it felt like the most erotic performance of her life. A slow, hot flush spread across her chest and up her neck. She could feel the milk letting down, a tingling rush that made her nipple harden even more in the baby’s mouth.
Marc took a casual step closer, his thigh brushing Jim’s arm, making her husband flinch. “Look at that, ” Marc murmured, his voice a low thrum that vibrated straight to Julie’s core. “So natural. So perfect. My son, drinking from the tit I fucking own.” He took a sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving her. “You feel that, Julie? That deep, pulling ache? That’s your body providing for what I put inside you. That’s my claim on you, nourishing my child.”
Jim made a choked sound, turning his head away, but his eyes were drawn back, helplessly fascinated by the obscene intimacy of it all. Julie’s breathing grew shallow. The baby’s sucking was no longer just feeding; it was a direct line to her clit, each tug sending a jolt of pleasure-pain straight to her swollen, needy sex. She was getting wet, right here in the middle of a barbecue, with her husband standing guard.
The baby finished, his mouth going slack with sleep. Julie gently pulled him away, her nipple slick and glistening in the evening light. As she moved to cover herself, Marc’s hand shot out and stopped her, his fingers wrapping around her wrist.
“Leave it, ” he commanded softly. He looked at Jim. “Take the baby. Your wife isn’t finished.”
Jim’s eyes were wide, horrified, but he obeyed, his movements robotic as he took the sleeping infant and settled him back into the stroller, rocking it with a frantic energy.
Marc didn’t waste a second. He moved behind the bench, his body shielding Julie from the direct view of most partygoers, but doing nothing to muffle the sounds. His hands landed on her bare shoulders, his thumbs digging into the tense muscles. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.
“You’re dripping for me, aren’t you, Julie?” he growled, his voice so low it was almost a vibration. “I can smell it. I can see your fucking nipples hard as diamonds, begging for my mouth. But that’s not what this greedy cunt wants, is it?”
One of his hands slid down her chest, his fingers roughly tracing the curve of her breast, smearing a droplet of milk across her heated skin before continuing down. He pushed her dress up her thighs, his calloused palm scraping against her sensitive flesh. The lace of her panties was already soaked through. He hooked a finger in the side and tore them aside with a quiet, brutal rip.
“Marc...” she whimpered, a plea and a prayer.
“Shhh, ” he murmured, his fingers finding her slick, swollen folds. He plunged two fingers inside her without warning, and Julie’s back arched, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. She clenched around him instantly, her body betraying her completely. “Fuck, you’re drenched. This married pussy is always so fucking ready for me. Isn’t it?”
“Yes, ” she breathed, her head falling back against his chest. She could see Jim over Marc’s shoulder, his face a mask of agony and fervent attention, his hand subtly adjusting himself through his trousers.
Marc’s fingers worked her with a cruel, knowing precision, curling inside her, stroking that perfect spot that made her vision fuzz at the edges. “You want to come, don’t you, Julie? You want to scream while all these nice people talk about their golf handicaps and their vacation plans.”
“Please, ” she begged, her hips starting to move against his hand. She was losing control, the orgasm building like a tsunami.
“Not yet, ” he said, pulling his soaked fingers out with a lewd, wet sound. He unzipped his slacks, and the thick, familiar weight of his cock sprang free, pressing against the cleft of her ass. He was already rock hard. “I’m going to fuck you now. Right here. And you’re going to beg for it so loud your husband’s boss hears you.”
He positioned himself, the blunt, demanding head of his cock pressing against her dripping entrance. He paused, letting her feel the immense pressure, letting the anticipation coil tight in her belly. The sounds of the party seemed to fade into a dull roar, her entire universe narrowing to that point where their bodies were about to join.
“Now, Julie, ” Marc commanded, his voice a dark promise. “Tell me what you want. Let them all hear who you belong to.”
And she broke. The last shred of her resistance evaporated under the heat of his body and the weight of his command.
“Please, Marc! Fuck me!” she cried out, her voice rising above the murmur of the party. A few conversations nearby stuttered to a halt. “Please, I need your cock! I need you to fuck my pussy right now! Please, god, just fuck me!”