LACTOGENESIS XXXII: 

THE FOREIGNER 
 
	Christine noticed as she drove home from the video store that Uwe's 
rental car rode her back bumper much too closely. When they arrived at 
her building, he was on the step directly behind her all the way up. 
This is one eager beaver, she thought, and was amused instead of 
annoyed. He wants to make sure not to lose me. Well don't worry, my 
little Austrian strudel. The chain of events has already progressed past 
the point of no return. 	Once through the door, Chris indicated the sofa 
across the living room from her entertainment center where Uwe was to 
sit. She hurried into her bedroom to change her milk-soaked T-shirt. She 
caught a glimpse of her naked bosom in the mirror and instantly 
recognized the visual signs of oncoming engorgement. Poor Uwe is going 
to get inundated, she thought. I hope he's equal to the challenge... 	She 
chose a bustier and an unbuttoned, see-through blouse as replacements 
for the T-shirt. Provocative, yet easy to get out of. Her splendiferous 
breasts threatened to spill out of their barely adequate restraints as 
she returned to the living room. She stopped at the linen closet to 
remove a small stack of towels, which she placed in an empty chair. Uwe 
had not budged from his spot on the sofa, not even to remove his jacket. 
He inhaled sharply when he saw the stack of towels. He's foreign, not 
stupid, Chris thought. In Uwe's white-knuckled grip were the three 
videocassettes he had picked out at the store. Chris saw a need to put 
the nervous young man at ease. 	"Please, be comfortable," she said 
soothingly. "Take off your coat. Can I get you something? A beer, 
maybe?" 	"Es tut mir...I mean, I am sorry," Uwe said. "I am 
having...moths in the head?" 	Chris laughed. "If you mean butterflies in 
your stomach, don't worry. I won't bite unless you want me to. Why don't 
you start one of the movies? That will give us something to talk about." 
	When she returned from the kitchen, "Squirting Boobies III" was just 
appearing on the TV screen. Uwe was already riveted to the introductory 
scenes, a rapid-fire montage of shots of women squeezing milk from their 
breasts. A tinny electronic soundtrack started as the scene shifted to a 
single woman, pretty but still carrying some post-pregnancy weight, 
caressing a pendulous pair of stretch mark-covered breasts, eventually 
(after what seemed to be an inordinately long time) coaxing a thin 
dribble of milk from one of them. Chris found herself watching with a 
sort of detached, clinical interest. She shouldn't have fed the kid just 
before filming, she was thinking. Uwe, in contrast, was transfixed. By 
the position of the lump in his pants, Chris figured he must be in some 
discomfort. He tried to shift his weight unobtrusively to free his 
growing erection. Chris decided not to try to help him...not yet, 
anyway. 
 If this is getting his rocks off, he must *really* be into lactation, 
she thought. 	The scene shifted to another woman, a black woman with the 
biggest pair of natural breasts Chris had ever seen. Their coal-black 
areolae, each at least three inches in diameter, rested in her lap when 
she wasn't fondling them. Within seconds after appearing onscreen, this 
woman was squirting thick streams of milk into her own mouth while a 
fully dressed man stroking an average-sized erection protruding from his 
fly looked on. The scene went on for several minutes, during which time 
the flow of milk showed no signs of abating. This finally produced a 
response in Chris. A memory from the first few days after her milk had 
first come in resurfaced. She remembered the taste of her own milk, how 
she had actually been able to fill her stomach from drinking it, how 
long it had taken her, and how, as orgasm after orgasm shook her, she 
had wondered whether her breasts would ever stop squirting. She felt her 
nipples threatening to burst out of the cups of her bustier, the hot 
milk building up behind them, the juices seeping out from between her 
pussy lips. She looked over at Uwe, who was still staring at the TV, now 
absently rubbing an impressive swelling through his jeans. 	"It's so 
sweet and warm," Chris said, breaking a long silence. "You haven't lived 
until you've tasted mother's milk. I used to wonder why so many men were 
turned on by milky tits until I tasted it myself." They watched the 
scene a little longer. "My, she sure has a lot...almost as much as me," 
Chris said. "In fact, watching this has made me feel full again." At 
those words, Uwe was finally able to tear his gaze away from the TV and 
onto Chris's chest. She responded by brushing back the material of her 
blouse and lightly caressing the mounds that welled up from the cups of 
the bustier. "They get so hot when they're producing," she said 
seductively. Impulsively she reached out and grabbed one of Uwe's 
trembling hands. "Here, feel," she said, firmly planting it across her 
chest. 	At first Uwe, too shocked to move, did nothing. Then he ever so 
gently began moving his hand, across, around, feeling the heat that was 
the byproduct of the manufacture of milk that was going on just 
millimeters beneath. Chris was immensely turned on by the tentativeness 
of his movements. Jeremy was a veteran at this; his approach was 
straightforward, while Uwe was clearly exploring, unsure of his next 
move. 
 Chris found that very titillating. She moved his hand aside temporarily 
and used the flats of her fingers to pull her breasts up and out of the 
bustier. Her nipples popped forth, and a single drop of blue-white fluid 
appeared at their tips. 	On the screen, the man had undressed, and the 
woman was soaking his erection down with her milk -- from a distance of 
several feet. Again an old memory surfaced in Chris; she remembered 
spattering her bedroom window while standing in the doorway to the room, 
which had to have been ten feet away. She suddenly had the urge to do 
that again. "I can do that," she said, referring to the video. "Watch." 
Her fingers and thumb instinctively knew the correct positions to take 
around and behind her areolae, knew the correct amount of inward 
pressure to exert, to produce a cluster of fine, sharp, forceful streams 
from her nipples. A moan of surprise and extreme arousal escaped Uwe's 
lips. The milk formed a long parabolic arc, fanning out and striking the 
full-length mirror on the far side of the room. Again and again she sent 
jets of milk skyward as she related to Uwe how good it felt to be 
releasing the pressure, how her nipples were tingling as the milk shot 
through them. Suddenly she stopped spraying, turned to Uwe, and said, 
"Would you like to taste?" 	The look on Uwe's face told her she had just 
granted his fondest wish. She repositioned herself so as to aim her 
blasts into his open mouth. The force of the first one took him by 
surprise; he almost choked as it struck the back of his throat. As Chris 
continued to squirt, Uwe's mouth came closer and closer until his lips 
finally locked onto her breast. He sucked hard, almost as hard as an 
infant. Chris felt her letdown reflex intensify, and quickly bent her 
head to catch in her own mouth the streams that began spontaneously 
shooting from her free breast. The familiar taste immediately triggered 
an orgasm which came up so quickly that Chris was completely unprepared 
for it. She felt her cunt juice gush into her slacks and seep up into 
the crack of her ass. The flow from her breasts increased until Uwe no 
longer needed to suck to have his mouth filled to overflowing. The 
action on the screen continued, but it soon paled against what was going 
on in front of it. 	Chris pushed Uwe back onto his back, swinging her 
shoulders back and forth so that first one, then the other spewing 
breast came in contact with his grasping mouth. He had her firmly about 
the waist as she ground her saturated crotch against the fly of his 
jeans. Somehow, a hand (whose?) unzipped the zipper, liberating an 
uncircumcised cock that ranked among the longest Chris had ever felt. 
Pausing just long enough to rip off her wet pants, Chris, quite simply, 
jumped on top of Uwe. She promptly yelped and leaped back off as the 
impact drove his cock all the way up inside her and bumped up hard 
against her cervix. Not letting Uwe's mouth wander far from her spurting 
nipples, Chris tried again, this time lowering herself slowly, feeling 
inch after inch after inch after lovely inch slide up and in, feeling 
her muscles squeeze and release as she pushed him further. She stopped 
just short of bottoming out, and realized that at least two inches were 
still outside of her. Jeremy was thicker, but Uwe was longer. She 
realized in that moment that Jeremy's cock was the only one she'd had 
inside her for a long time, and that she had forgotten how different one 
man can feel from another. As Chris gyrated upon Uwe, she felt every 
little difference there was to feel, and as she did, her orgasms came 
thick and fast. She straightened up and threw her chin toward the 
ceiling as she came like a Thompson gun. It almost felt to Chris as if 
her uterus was being repositioned -- trying to get out of the way of 
Uwe's impressive sword. Uwe's blue jeans turned a very dark indigo as 
her ejaculate cascaded over them. Her breasts, now free from Uwe's grip, 
sent pulses of whiter hind-milk over his head in rhythm with her vaginal 
contractions. Uwe had probably come within seconds of beginning all of 
this, but so much fluid was present that it was hard to tell what was 
his and what was hers. All he could do was hang on, screaming to himself 
in his native language that this was all there was in the world now, 
while Chris released herself upon him. 	As the last orgasm (sixth? 
eighth? who counts any more?) drained from Chris like a locomotive 
speeding away into a foggy night, she looked down on her victim. He lay 
motionless, his eyes tightly shut, his mouth gaping. He could have been 
mistaken for dead except for his gasping breath. He babbled something in 
German, then opened his eyes to meet Chris's. It was clear from the look 
on his face that he could die then and have no regrets. 	She hadn't seen 
a look like that on Jeremy's face since they'd first started making 
love. It warmed her at first, then saddened her, for it made her think 
that perhaps she and Jeremy were reaching the beginning of the end. She 
tried not to think about it. Instead she said, "What was that you said, 
love?" 	He smiled weakly. "Wenn der Putz steht, liegt der Sechsel in 
d'Erde." 	"Meaning?" 	Uwe paused, struggling with the translation as he 
sat up and tried in vain to wipe all of the bodily fluids from his face 
and what was left of his clothes. Finally he said, in very clear 
English, "When the prick stands up, the brains go in the ground." 
	Chris's melancholy lifted immediately, and she began laughing heartily, 
the action serving to shake the last few drops of milk from her bobbing 
boobs. That phrase must be her mantra. Wasn't that very thing (the 
female equivalent, anyway) that had caused her to just have sex with a 
total stranger, now as those many months ago at the Halloween party? Was 
Chris really a slave to her glands? Did she care? 	She regarded the mess 
they'd made of the room around them and suddenly realized that the 
towels still sat neatly folded on the chair. Yep, the brains definitely 
had gone into the ground. 	"Oh, God, ain't that the truth!" she laughed, 
falling onto Uwe's heaving chest and temporarily knocking the wind out 
of him. 	He recovered quickly. 	The other two movies went unviewed that 
evening.