He was close, she could feel it, feel the same edge of need that tinged his movements. After a minute or so of writing, Jennifer felt something solid and flat slide beneath her breasts. It was an obscene thing, and she would shudder in orgasm each night imagining someone mocking her tits for their constant leaking, stepping on them so it spurted out harder, and similar mistreatment. Her mind focused on it briefly, and she made a sudden snap decision, gripping the handle. a slow buildup of anticipation, a slow release of milk, both of them constant as she moved and displayed herself in the semisexual poses of yoga. This was a club for masochists like her, and she should be the best little milk masochist she could be for these others. If she could only milk herself, let herself express, she knew she could cum from letting that sweet flow out through her aching nipples. Her legs were to stay in the same position as the previous pose, though she shifted from her left leg being
