Robert and Emily Porter lived in the Taylor's old house now. They were a very nice family, and good looking all around, but they seemed pretty straight laced. Next to them were the Trents, who were definitely not straight laced. Patty Trent liked to do her housework bare-naked with her drapes open and sometimes hurried outside without a stitch to sit in her car in the garage-masturbating, Jennifer supposed. She and Daryl liked to watch Patty and then go fuck like crazy. They wondered if the Trents might want to come over and play, but saw no indication that Charles Trent was in any way as kinky as his wife. No, they wouldn't risk the embarrassment since Daryl's dealership did too much business with the construction firm where Charles Trent worked.

Next to the Trents lived the Mosswells. The family had only been in the house about three years now, with one son, Tillman, still living at home. The Mosswells were only the second African American family to live on the street, but whatever color, all the new people seemed pretty much the same to Jennifer.

Next to the Mosswells lived a young couple who probably couldn't afford a house as large as that. John and Terry Carter, about thirty each, were very much in love and very much pregnant at the moment with two toddlers already in residence. The Carters were probably the family Jennifer knew best since she had taken up baby sitting their little ones, Kyle and Kristy on occasion. Terry was a very friendly lady, but prone to divulging too much information. "I'm still lactating from Kyle," she confided once, and now that I'm knocked up again the milk just flows like crazy." And, when Jennifer asked why she hadn't dried up since breastfeeding the four year-old, she confided, "Well, John won't leave my tits alone long enough to stop running. I swear to god it's the only milk he likes nowadays."

Jennifer was often tempted to ask if she could have a taste of Terry's miracle milk, but she'd wisely held her tongue. Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

The Burtons lived on the other side of Jennifer's home, and they were never very friendly. Fine to say hi to, and never any trouble, but they kept to themselves. Beyond them lived Andy and Claudia Adams, a couple in their twenties with a two year old and another one on the way.

Two lactating women, Jennifer thought to herself. Boy, we could open up a dairy.

She knew she should stop thinking like that because it made her too horny. Those couples were about thirty years younger that she and Daryl. They wouldn't want to fool around with a couple old folks, would they?

Stop that! Jennifer may have put a few pounds on her thighs, and her tits were giving in to gravity, but her face was nearly unlined and her belly was firm and she could out fuck the best of them if given a chance. She just had to figure out a way to get that chance.

Terry Carter was worried. No, she was more than worried, but she wasn't sure what her feelings might be called. Her husband, John, had just called to tell her that their car was, in the words of the mechanic, "Not worth fixing any more." John told her that they sure would fix it and charge him over eight hundred dollars, if that's what he wanted, but that he'd be back spending the same amount soon.

"I guess I'll be using the bus for awhile," John said, always trying to put a positive spin on things.

"Oh, John, we can't . . ." But she cut herself off. Why be negative right now? Take a shot at seeing the bright side. "Yes, well, at least there is a bus. We'll start scouring the web for used cars."

"Yeah, we'll be just fine," he told her before hanging up.

Fine. Well, sure, sometime, but not right now. With the economy running so slow, and John only working a three-quarter schedule, about all they could was make their house payments. And, the truth be told, they could probably only keep that up for another month or two. Now she wished they hadn't moved here before they both had jobs. She'd had no luck in finding one, and John's job at the factory was well beneath his abilities. Still, at least he had a job.

What about now? They had one hundred and five dollars in the bank until payday a week from then and two young children to feed. And, of course, her prenatal care wasn't cheap either. What on earth were they going to do?

"Knock, knock!" Jenny Peterson called out as she pushed open the back screen door. "You decent?"

Terry smiled and pushed her sandy, shoulder length hair back from her face as she fought a bright expression onto it. "You bet," she said, shifting around on her chair to stand and greet her neighbor. She genuinely liked Jenny Peterson, and she hoped she'd be in as good shape as her in twenty years. The woman had the most amazing breasts, Terry thought, though she'd prefer a little less on the backside.

"You look worried," Jenny said. "Sit down, sit down. You shouldn't be standing all the time."

"I'm only in my sixth month," Terry said, laughing. "And I need my exercise, too, you know."

"Okay, sit or stand, whatever. Where are the kids?" Jenny asked.

"Napping."

Must be feeding time somewhere," the older woman pointed out. "You're leaking."

"Oh, damn," Terry exclaimed, standing again. "I've gotten so I barely notice any more, and I really can't afford to stain all of my clothing." She walked to the sink and quickly unbuttoned her blouse. Running cold water, she closed the drain and dropped the blouse inside to soak. "Okay, one problem solved," she said, turning back toward Jenny.

Jennifer was transfixed by her heavy breasts in the maternity bra Terry was wearing. They were pendulous, full of milk, and they looked so soft and warm suspended over the swelling of Terry's pregnant belly. Jenny couldn't help but lick her lips as she looked at the wet stains on the cups of the bra.

And Terry couldn't help but notice the look in her eyes, either. "So, what were you saying?" she said.

"Oh, yes, I was wondering what was wrong," Jenny said, breaking her gaze away.

"Our car," Terry admitted. "It's shot. Of course, we'll have to fix it I suppose, no matter what. We can't . . ."

Your car? Oh, goodness, that's nothing to be so worried about." Jenny was all smiles then. "It's down at our shop, you know. I spoke to Daryl on the phone a bit a go and he mentioned how the car isn't safe at all, and he hopes you don't fix it. That's what I came over to tell you."

"Well, we sure can't afford a new one," Terry said. "Or even a good used one."

"Well, Daryl and I were thinking that you could use a loaner from the dealership in the interim," Jenny said. "If you don't mind driving around advertising Westside Motors, that is."

"No, we couldn't." Terry shifted the straps of her bra a bit, trying to find a comfortable way to keep it supporting her breasts. No, they were too full of milk to be comfortable. "I mean, the interim could be a year. More, even."

"So you drive it for a year. Big deal. We can't have you taking the little ones around in a dangerous car, can we?"

"No, but . . ."

"Okay, then, we'll be by this evening with the car." Jenny stood then, beaming. "If you don't mind my saying, dear, you'd better milk those things. It's gotta hurt."

"Yes." Terry lifted both breasts slightly, which reduced a bit of the pain. "But my breast pump is broken. Hell, everything we have is broken, I think."

"Well, since you don't want to start the four year old breast feeding again, and your husband isn't here to suckle, you're just going to have to milk them yourself. Even a little bit would help," Jenny said, her eyes fixed on Terry's chest.

"Oh, my goodness, did I really tell you about John?"

Oh, my goodness, did I really tell you about John?"

"Oh, yes, don't you remember?" Jenny tried to keep her eyes on Terry's eyes but did a poor job of it. "Just off hand when we were talking."

"Sometimes I chatter a bit more than I should."

"No worry. I don't think there's a man alive who would turn down a taste of mother's milk. At least one suck or two, anyway. I know Daryl wouldn't, that's for sure." Jenny opened the back door again. "I'd suggest sitting in a nice hot bath and having a little rub while milking. That always got me off like a bang. Bye now. Be back later with the keys."

"Bye, bye." Terry watched the door close thinking that if she had invited Jenny to suck at her breasts, the older woman would have taken her up on it in a heartbeat. It was weird, too, that she didn't feel the least bit repulsed by that notion.