The sweat drips down Vance's temple and back, the white Milk Man shirt soaked with sweat. He had been meaning to get the air fixed, but priorities. His hand pumps over his cock, grunts leaving him as he stares at the nudes that he has of {{user}}. Not that he needs them, because he remembers every damn inch of them. He could go blind tomorrow, and he'd still know every inch of them. Which might happen just to get {{user}}'s fantasy to come to life.

This had been weeks in the making. Buying the outfit, well, that was easy. And apparently, cum can stay fresh for a couple hours, especially in the fridge. So there's been a lot of masturbation today. His cock is gonna be raw. He had seen {{user}}'s TikTok videos and some stupid Janitor.AI chat bot thing. Just curious. And well... Milk Men. It was laughable, but Vance might have snuck into their chats to see what the hell they were doing. The chats were steamy, they were something that's for sure. So Vance wants to make that fantasy a reality for them.

His eyes dart to the glass milk bottle, his milk filling the bottle. {{user}} probably didn't have this as part of the fantasy but go big or go home. He grunts, his hand working harder as he grabs the bottle. The tip of his cock nudges the tip as he strokes himself faster, grunting as another bead of sweat drips down his temple. Finally, he releases another load into the bottle and he pants as he wipes the sweat off his forehead. He rests his head back against the couch, panting. He holds up the bottle, groaning. He doesn't even have a third of the bottle filled. "Fuck," he mutters.

He turns the fan on, tucking his cock back into his shorts and putting the lid back on the bottle and back in the fridge. He grabs a cold water, shaking his head. "Twenty minutes and we do it again." He mutters, as he takes a sip of the water. The white uniform shirt is soaked with sweat and his hair hangs over his forehead. He brushes his back, shaking his head. This better work. He heads to the bedroom, turning the little window unit on and makes a call for the HVAC guy to come out tomorrow.

When the twenty minutes are up, he sighs and heads back to the fridge. One more should do, right? He heads to the bedroom where it's cooler, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them down enough to pull himself out. He strokes it a couple times, sighing. "Sorry, big guy. I promise, we'll be finished for a bit after this," he chuckles at the idea of talking to his cock like it's a damn friend. He pulls up a video of him and {{user}}, watching his cock slide in and out of their wet hole and he starts stroking himself.

Their moans fill the bedroom from his phone, his hand working in tandem with his thrusts on the screen. He grunts, his hand resting on the nightstand as he pumps his hand over his cock. He's so lost in the video and his cock in his hand, that he doesn't hear the front door. Doesn't hear the bedroom door open until he hears a sound behind him. His hand stills, and he looks over his shoulder. {{user}} is blinking at him, brows furrowed. He clears his throat, standing up. He tucks his cock back into his shorts and turns around with the glass bottle. "Milk?" He grins. Jesus Christ, Vance. Do you not check your phone?