Her fingers trembled slightly as she adjusted the camera’s focus, the dim lamplight casting shadows across her bedroom walls. Ethan stood frozen in the doorway, his breath catching at the sight of Lila’s damp shirt clinging to her chest, two dark circles spreading slowly from her nipples. The sweet, musky scent of her milk filled the air, thick and intoxicating, making his mouth water involuntarily. She smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her lips, and beckoned him closer with one finger. "You’ve been staring, Ethan," she murmured, her voice a low, velvety tease. "Don’t you want to know what it tastes like?"

He took a hesitant step forward, his eyes locked on the wet patches growing larger by the second. Lila’s breasts were heavy and full, straining against the thin fabric of her top, and he could see the outline of her hardened nipples pressing insistently. She reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it slowly over her head, letting it fall to the floor with a soft rustle. Her tits spilled free, heavy and pale, with veins tracing delicate patterns beneath the skin. Milky droplets beaded at the tips, glistening in the low light, and Ethan’s cock throbbed in his jeans, hard and aching.

"Come here," she whispered, her voice dripping with promise. She guided his head down, her fingers tangling in his hair, and pressed his mouth to her left breast. The moment his lips touched her skin, a shudder ran through him. Her nipple was firm and warm against his tongue, and as he tentatively sucked, a sweet, rich stream of milk flooded his mouth. It was unlike anything he had ever tasted—creamy and slightly sweet, with an underlying intensity that made his head spin. He moaned, his hands coming up to cup her other breast, his fingers kneading the soft flesh as he drank greedily.

Lila arched her back, pushing herself deeper into his mouth, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "That’s it, baby," she cooed, her voice thick with arousal. "Drink it all. You need it, don’t you?" She reached for the camera on her nightstand, never breaking contact, and snapped a picture of his face buried against her chest, his lips sealed around her nipple, milk trickling from the corner of his mouth. The flash illuminated the room for a split second, capturing the raw hunger in his eyes. "We’ll take one of these every time," she whispered, her tone shifting to something darker, more possessive. "Starting today, you’ll come to me four times a day. No excuses."

Ethan could only nod, his mouth still working hungrily at her breast, his tongue lapping at the steady flow of milk. He felt drunk on it, his mind foggy with need, his body thrumming with a new, all-consuming craving. Lila’s fingers trailed down his spine, making him shiver, and she guided his hand between her legs. Through the thin fabric of her panties, he could feel her heat, the wetness already soaking through. "And once a week," she breathed into his ear, her voice husky, "you’ll fuck me. Hard. Until I scream." She pressed his fingers against her clit, grinding against his hand, and he groaned, his cock straining painfully.

He pulled away from her breast, milk dripping from his chin, and looked up at her, his eyes glazed with lust. "I need more," he begged, his voice rough. Lila smiled, a triumphant, wicked gleam in her eyes, and pushed him onto the bed. She straddled his hips, grinding her soaked pussy against the bulge in his jeans, and leaned forward to offer her other breast. "Then take it," she commanded, and he latched on eagerly, sucking with a desperation that bordered on violence. His hands roamed her body, squeezing her ass, sliding between her thighs to feel how wet she was, and he knew, with a certainty that shook him to his core, that he would never be able to get enough of her.

The warm, sweet spray hit the back of Ethan’s throat as he suckled greedily, his lips sealed tight around Lila’s swollen nipple. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer against her breast as she arched her back against the cool pantry shelves. Cans of beans and tomatoes stood witness to their secret ritual, the only sound being his desperate swallowing and her soft, approving murmurs. "That's it, baby," she whispered, her voice husky with pleasure. "Drink it all. You need it, don't you?" He could only moan in response, his world narrowing to the rhythm of his sucking, the taste of her milk, the feel of her heavy breast filling his mouth.

Lila guided his head to her other breast, her thumb stroking his cheek as he transitioned without breaking rhythm. She loved watching him like this—completely lost in her, dependent on what her body could give. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her phone, the screen glowing softly in the dim pantry light. "Look at me, Ethan," she commanded softly, and he lifted his dazed eyes to hers as she snapped a picture—his lips stretched around her areola, milk beading at the corner of his mouth. "Good boy," she purred, scrolling through her gallery, which was quickly filling with similar images. "But I think we need something... more intimate today." Her fingers trailed down her stomach, slipping under the waistband of her skirt. "I want you to remember every part of me."

Ethan watched, mesmerized, as she pushed her panties aside and spread her lips, revealing her glistening pink flesh. The camera flash illuminated the intimate details—the swollen clit, the wetness coating her inner folds, the way her body was already responding to their secret meeting. "Fuck, Lila," he breathed, his cock straining painfully against his jeans. She smiled, snapping several more shots, angling the phone to capture her pussy from different views. "You like that, don't you? Seeing how wet I get just from feeding you?" She guided his head back to her breast. "Suck harder. I want to feel you drain me completely."

As he obeyed, she reached for the small digital scale she’d hidden behind a bag of rice. With practiced ease, she lifted her breast, resting it on the scale’s surface and noting the number before letting him resume. His sucking grew more frantic, almost frantic, as if he knew this was part of their new routine—the weighing, the measuring, the documentation of her abundance and his need. She moaned as he drew another strong letdown from her, her milk flowing freely into his hungry mouth. "You’re taking so much today," she gasped, her free hand slipping between her legs to rub circles over her clit. "You can’t get enough, can you?"

After what felt like both an eternity and no time at all, he finally pulled away, milk dribbling down his chin. Lila quickly weighed her breast again, a satisfied smirk playing on her lips as she noted the difference. "Almost eight ounces," she murmured, showing him the screen. "You’re drinking more each time, Ethan. My body is working overtime for you." She leaned in, licking the stray milk from his lips before kissing him deeply, letting him taste himself on her tongue. "You’ll need another feeding in a few hours," she whispered against his mouth, her hand sliding down to palm his hard cock through his jeans. "Meet me in the laundry room after lunch. And don’t be late."

His heart hammered against his ribs as he nodded, the promise of her, of *this*, already a physical ache in his throat and groin. Lila straightened her skirt, her movements languid and self-satisfied, and slipped out of the pantry, leaving him alone with the scent of her milk and her arousal still thick in the air. He stayed there for a long moment, leaning against the shelves, his mouth still tasting of her, his cock still painfully hard. The rest of the morning passed in a milk-fogged haze; he moved through the house like a ghost, his mind replaying the feel of her breast on the scale, the shocking intimacy of those explicit photos, the wet, sucking sounds that had filled the small, dark space. When lunch was called, he ate without tasting, his eyes constantly drifting toward the hallway that led to the laundry room.

The hum of the washing machine was a low, steady thrum as he pushed the door open. Lila was already there, waiting. She’d changed into a simple, thin cotton sundress, no bra beneath it, and the sight of her nipples pressing against the fabric, already dark with moisture, made his mouth water. She stood beside the folding table, upon which she’d already placed her digital scale and her phone. “Right on time,” she said, her voice a velvet purr that vibrated in the humid, soap-scented air. “I’ve been aching for you.” She didn’t wait for him to speak, simply lifted the hem of her dress and pulled it over her head in one smooth motion, letting it pool at her feet. She was completely naked, her body pale and lush in the fluorescent light, her breasts heavy and pendulous, veins visibly mapping their fullness. A single drop of milk trembled at the tip of each nipple.

“Come,” she commanded, leaning back against the cold metal of the dryer. “Weigh first.” Ethan’s hands shook as he approached, his fingers brushing the soft, warm underside of her breast as he lifted it for her. She placed it on the scale, her eyes on the digital readout. “Twenty-four point three ounces,” she noted aloud, her tone clinical yet charged. “Now drink. I want to see that number drop.” She fisted her hand in his hair and pulled his mouth to her, guiding her nipple between his lips. The moment his tongue touched her, the milk let down in a hot, rich rush, flooding his mouth with that addictive sweetness. He groaned, his knees weakening, and his hands came up to cradle her other breast, his thumb brushing over the dripping nipple there.

As he suckled, Lila reached for her phone. She extended her arm, angling the camera down the length of her own body, capturing the top of Ethan’s head buried in her chest, the line of his shoulders, and farther down—the wet, glistening folds of her pussy, exposed and open just inches from his kneeling form. The flash went off, once, twice, the stark light illuminating the droplets of her arousal clinging to her inner lips. “Look at how empty you make me,” she moaned, not from the sucking, but from the obscenity of the documentation. She slid a hand between her own legs, spreading herself wider for the next picture, two fingers sliding easily into her soaked cunt. The wet, squelching sound was loud in the room. “You hear that? That’s how much I need it. How much I need *you* fucking me. But not yet… first, you drink.”

Ethan sucked with a frantic, desperate rhythm, his jaw working, swallowing audibly as her milk filled his throat. His own need was a secondary, roaring thing, his cock leaking precum into his boxers, but it was subordinate to this primary, all-consuming hunger for what she gave him. He felt her body begin to tremble, her legs shifting, and he knew she was rubbing her clit in fast, tight circles as he fed. Her moans grew louder, less controlled, echoing off the concrete walls. “Yes, yes, drain me, baby, take every drop,” she chanted, her hips beginning to rock against her own hand. He could smell the sharp, musky scent of her climax mixing with the sweet milk, and it drove him wild. He suckled harder, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass, holding her steady as she began to shake.

With a sharp cry, Lila came, her body convulsing against the dryer, her cunt clenching around her own fingers. Milk sprayed into Ethan’s mouth in tandem with her pulses, a final, strong letdown triggered by her orgasm. He drank it all, gulping until he felt her breast begin to soften in his mouth, the flow slowing to a trickle. Only then did he pull away, panting, milk smeared across his face. With a trembling hand, Lila lifted her spent breast onto the scale. Her eyes were half-lidded, sated. “Eighteen point seven,” she breathed, a triumphant, exhausted smile on her face. “You took over five and a half ounces, Ethan. You’re starving for me.” She slumped against him, her sweat-slick skin sticking to his shirt, and guided his head to her other breast. “Now the other one. Empty it completely. I want to feel light-headed when you’re done. I want to feel you in every hollow place.”

He obeyed without hesitation, his mouth latching onto her right nipple with a desperate hunger that felt more like a primal need than conscious action. The milk flowed just as sweetly, just as abundantly, and he drank with a rhythm that matched the hum of the appliances around them, his hands gripping her hips to steady her as she trembled through the aftershocks of her climax. Lila’s fingers carded through his hair, her touch both possessive and tender, her body yielding to his relentless suction. She moaned softly, her head tipping back against the vibrating dryer, her eyes fluttering shut as she surrendered to the sensation of being drained, of being needed so completely it bordered on worship.

When he finally pulled away, her breast was noticeably softer, lighter in his hands, the skin slightly flushed from the intensity of his feeding. She lifted it onto the scale with a languid motion, her movements slow and sated. "Sixteen point two," she murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction. "You took almost eight ounces total this time, Ethan. My body is learning to make more for you." She didn't bother to dress, simply pulled her sundress back over her head, the thin fabric doing little to hide the damp patches already forming at her nipples again. "I'll see you tonight," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his milk-wet lips before slipping out of the laundry room, leaving him alone with the evidence of their encounter—the scale, the lingering scent of her, the aching hardness in his pants.

The hours until nightfall stretched into an agony of anticipation. Ethan paced his bedroom, his skin itching with the memory of her taste, the feel of her heavy breasts in his hands, the sound of her climax echoing in his head. He tried to focus on anything else—the book open on his desk, the faint sounds of the neighborhood—but

Milkbound Obsession