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1
HUNTER
Slamming my book shut, I lean back on my bed and stare at the ceiling. I can’t spend another second reading about physics. It always makes perfect sense when I’m in class or with my study group, but as soon as I’m alone in my room, it’s just a jumble of lines and letters and numbers, and I can’t remember a thing until I’m back in class. I just need to schedule some group study sessions before midterms next week, and I should be good. Well, good enough to get at least 90 percent. I’ve never gotten a lower grade than that, and I don’t intend to start now.
That also means I might as well stop trying to memorize something that isn’t making sense and do something more productive before my brain explodes.
According to my watch, it’s only five thirty. Lucas won’t be back from practice for another hour, so I have time for a little private fun. The kind of fun I can’t have when my roommate and best friend is in the room with me. The kind of fun that would probably freak him the fuck out and drive him to request a new roommate.
I open up my laptop and pull up one of my favorite BDSM video sites to watch some porn and take the edge off.
With Lucas’s increased workout schedule, he’s bulking up in a way that’s fucking sexy. It’s not easy to ignore my roommate’s rounded biceps and washboard abs, but I need to do a better job of trying. He doesn’t need me creeping on him when he’s trying to relax after practice.
He has enough stress from the football team and his heavy course load.
Even though when he’s all sweaty and ripe is when I want to tear his clothes off and lick every inch of him. Maybe I don’t even need the porn. Just thinking about him is enough to make my dick hard and my slit wet.
But since I have time, I scan through the latest videos. Leather. Leather. Chains. Oh, this looks interesting… My shorts go down, and my fist closes around my cock as I watch a muscular guy write lines while a slim dude fucks him from behind. The camera zooms in on the lines, and my hand moves faster across my dick as I read the words, whispering them out loud into the empty room.
I will not talk back to my Daddy.
Fuck, that’s hot. Just as I get to the good part, I realize I’m already a sticky, wet mess…but not from my dick. My fucking nipples are leaking like a faucet has been turned on.
Dammit.
I slam my laptop shut and reach for the towel I threw at the end of the bed this morning. Why does this keep happening?
Pressing the towel against my chest blots the flow, and I push it as hard as I can, hoping it’ll not only drain out whatever is in it but will also soak it all up so I’m not leaking through my shirt. After a few minutes, it seems like it’s working until I pull it off and realize I’m still dripping at a pretty good rate.
Fuck, there’s got to be a way to fix this.
Of course, this isn’t the first time I’ve leaked. This is just the heaviest…and longest period of time it’s happened. It first started when I was around seventeen. That was when I noticed I’d get a few drops at the tips of my nipples every time I was aroused. It wasn’t enough to worry about, and it was easy to ignore it. At least when I was by myself.
There were a few guys who asked me what was going on during sex or when we were making out, but I just made up some excuse. If I distracted them appropriately, a random excuse about it either being spit or pre-come was usually good enough, and they didn’t ask more questions than that.
But now it’s getting out of hand. It’s too much to ignore.
I have to actually figure out a solution. Quick. I can’t just spend the rest of my life with a towel in my pocket in case the dam breaks. Since I still have some time before Lucas gets back to the room, I open up my computer and pull up a private window. No way I want a record in my browser history as I search How do I stop my nipples from leaking milk.
As expected, all the information on the first page is for women who are trying to wean, but the advice can’t be much different for me. According to the first site I visit, there are a few easy fixes. If my chest hurts, which it does, I can use my hands to basically milk myself. It doesn’t look fun, but it’s doable. There are also electric pumps to do it faster and more efficiently, but there’s no way in hell I’m buying one of those. That would be accepting defeat, and I’m not there yet. The last option is not to touch my nipples at all for several days and hope the milk production just stops on its own.
Unfortunately, that last method is what I’ve been doing for the past four years, and that’s clearly not working. No matter how hard I’ve wished it away, it’s just getting worse. Which leaves me one choice for right now.
I grab an empty coffee cup from the floor by my bed and pop the lid off. Here goes nothing.
It takes a second to figure out the best way to hold myself to make it work, but with a wide grip around my entire pec muscle, I can almost squeeze the milk out. At first, there are just little bubbles that erupt from a dozen tiny holes that I never knew were there. But then, a wide spray of milk bursts free and shoots into the cup. It’s an awkward position, but if I get on all fours and kinda aim just right into the cup, it works.
For some annoying reason, my dick gets hard while I do it. But I don’t have time for that shit right now. Instead of analyzing it, I focus on getting rid of whatever has been building up inside me.
Maybe I can finally empty myself once and for all and not have to worry about this ever again.
2
LUCAS
“What the hell is this?”
I’m not sure if the question is rhetorical or not, given the fact that we’re looking down at a piece of paper. The same piece of paper with a big red “42” written on the top of it.
