The plane shuddered violently, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. My heart pounded like a runaway train, each beat echoing loudly in my ears. Sweat beaded on my forehead despite the cool cabin air. This was supposed to be just another routine business trip. Still, when we hit turbulence, all rational thought flew out the window. I hated small planes.

And this one was tiny—just me, the pilot, and the distant hum of the engines. The leather seat creaked under me as I gripped the armrests tighter, trying to ignore the suffocating feeling of isolation in the empty cabin. There was no one to glance at for reassurance, no fellow passenger to share a look of “we’re going to be fine, right?”

A sultry voice crackled over the speaker, pulling my attention. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” the flight attendant purred, her tone smooth and honeyed. “Just a little turbulence. We’ll be through it in no time.”

Her voice was calm, almost too calm, as if she were lounging on a beach somewhere instead of delivering that message mid-flight. It didn’t do much to calm my nerves, though it did send a shiver down my spine, the kind that had nothing to do with the plane’s violent lurching.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to ignore the tension tightening my chest. Alone in this small, claustrophobic cabin, every little bump felt like the prelude to disaster. The plane dipped again, and my stomach followed it, dropping like a stone.

“Just relax,” the voice came again, as if reading my mind. "You're in good hands."

I wasn’t so sure about that. The small plane rocked, and I silently cursed myself for choosing this private flight.

"Mr. Smith, are you alright?" The soft, soothing voice of Stacy, my personal flight attendant, cut through my panic. She knelt beside me, her eyes filled with concern. Her long, golden hair framed her face perfectly, and her full lips were set in a gentle curve, trying to reassure me. But it wasn't her face that caught my attention; it was the generous mounds of her breasts, straining against the fabric of her tight blouse.

I swallowed hard, unable to tear my gaze away from them. "I... I don't know," I croaked, my voice trembling. "This flight has been horrible."

Stacy placed a comforting hand on my arm, her touch sending a shiver down my spine. "It's just turbulence, Mr. Smith. Nothing to worry about. Here, let me help you relax." Without waiting for a response, she began unbuttoning her blouse, revealing more of her ample bosom.

My eyes couldn't believe what they were seeing as she kept going, uncovering her creamy white breasts. The lacy black bra barely contained them, highlighting their fullness. My mouth went dry, and my breaths became rapid. "What... what is this?" I managed to say, temporarily forgetting my fear due to the rush of desire. I knew my company had hired personal flight attendants for a specific purpose. Still, I never imagined this was one of the services they offered.

Stacy's lips curved into a knowing smile. "Shh," she whispered, leaning closer. "This is what I'm here for. Let me take care of you." With deft fingers, she unclasped her bra, allowing her breasts to spill free. They were even more magnificent than I had imagined, heavy and soft, the nipples dark and inviting.

She took one of my hands and guided it to her breast, pressing my palm against its warmth. The sensation was overwhelming, a delicious contrast to the chaos outside the small window. "Feel how soft they are," she murmured, her breath hot against my ear. "Let yourself sink into the warmth."

I did as she instructed, my fingers curling around her breast, squeezing gently. Stacy sighed softly, her hips shifting subtly as if she loved my touch as much as I enjoyed the feel of her. "That's it," she encouraged, her voice dripping with desire. "Let go of your fear, Mr. Smith. Just focus on me."

Her voice calmed my nerves, and I let myself follow her lead. Everything outside the plane seemed to fade away, and all I could focus on was the woman standing in front of me. Stacy leaned in further, pressing her breast harder against my hand, her other hand moving to stroke my thigh.

"You like that, don't you?" she purred, her fingers brushing against the growing bulge in my pants. "You love feeling my breasts, how they fill your hand so perfectly."

I nodded dumbly, my mind too clouded with arousal to form coherent thoughts. Stacy's touch was electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure straight to my cock. She shifted again, this time positioning herself so that one of her breasts was directly in front of my face.

"Take it, Mr. Smith," she commanded. "Suck on my nipple, feel how good it feels."

Without hesitating, I leaned forward and latched onto her nipple, suckling greedily. The taste of her skin was intoxicating, a heady mix of salt and sweetness. Stacy moaned softly, her hand moving up my thigh, her thumb rubbing against the sensitive head of my cock through the fabric of my pants.

"Oh, yes," she breathed, her voice thick with desire. "That's it. Suck it harder. Show me how much you need me."

Encouraged by her words, I redoubled my efforts, my tongue flicking over her nipple, teeth nipping gently. Stacy's body trembled under my touch, her hips grinding subtly against my leg. "Fuck, Mr. Smith," she whispered, her hand finally slipping beneath the waistband of my pants, freeing my throbbing erection.

She wrapped her warm, slender fingers around my shaft, stroking firmly. "Your cock is so hard for me," she moaned, her eyes locked onto mine. "Your cock is big, hard, and you're so thirsty for my milk."

I could hardly contain myself, the sensations overwhelming. Stacy's touch, the sight of her big-filled breasts, the sounds of her muffled moans—it was all too much. "Stacy," I gasped, my hips bucking involuntarily as she quickened her pace. "I'm going to cum."

"Not yet," she said, her voice laced with anticipation. "Let it build. Feel how close you are. Imagine coming all over these beautiful breasts of mine."
Her words were a powerful aphrodisiac, pushing me ever closer to the edge. I could feel the pressure building in my balls, the tension coiling tighter and tighter within me. Stacy seemed to sense how hard I was holding back, her strokes becoming more deliberate, her grip firmer.

"That's it," she coaxed, her voice sultry. "Cum for me, Mr. Smith. Cum all over my tits with your big hard cock."

With a strangled cry, I came, my entire body convulsing as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over me. Stacy milked my cock until every last drop of cum was extracted. When I finally finished, she released me, her hand coated in my seed.

That was a preview of Sweet Milk: A Lactation Kink Collection. To read the rest purchase the book.

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