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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Boobs, A Love Story
by Anonymous Author (address withheld)
***
After her husband died Claire got her sexual
fulfillment by compulsive and very imaginative
masturbation sessions. After many hours of breast play
she achieved her goal of self-induced lactation. She
truly enjoyed her milky tits as did her new lover. A
true story. (MF, mast, lact, rom)
***
Author Note: This is an anonymous account of my life
written for an adult creative writing class. The
purpose of this exercise is for me to reveal intimate
details of my life that I would not normally tell to
another person. No self-censoring is allowed. All the
incidents and events are true but the names are
completely false. I tried to be brutally honest. I
think I succeeded.
***
I am Claire Simpson, a widow on the verge of middle
age. My husband, Dave, the love of my life, died in an
airplane accident seven years ago. I have two lovely
children, both in grade school, and a more than
comfortable income. I work part time as a reference
librarian at the university library, not because I
need the money, but simply to give me the opportunity
to meet people in a neutral setting.
As far as I can remember, I was a normal child. I
lucked out in the genetics sweepstakes with good
health, a better than average mind and an attractive
body. I can take no credit for this. It was all due to
my parents and ancestors. My high school years were
pretty conventional. I lost my virginity at the junior
prom, as did most of my female classmates.
Archeologists of some future civilization will
probably refer to the junior prom as a ritualized mass
deflowering ceremony. And I suppose it is.
I always thought of myself as a science nerd. My
favorite subject was mathematics. It seemed so
ordered. But thanks to my big boobs and nice legs the
boys in my class regarded me as a desirable date and I
received invitations to most school and community
events. Although I may have looked like a bimbo, I
maintained a nearly 4.0 grade average in high school.
I can't fool myself into thinking that I was a great
party girl. My escorts to school events simply had
ambitions of getting into my pants and much of the
time they were not disappointed.
I seemed to exude an unconscious air of sexuality. It
was entirely unintentional. Still, one of my
girlfriends told me that when I walked into a room,
all the straight boys got erections and all the
lesbian girls wet their pants. Thank God I had the
sense to make my dates always use condoms or I might
have gotten into real trouble.
My parents, veterans of the Haight-Asbury "Summer of
Love," raised me with a very enlightened attitude
toward sex. It was pleasurable and probably good
exercise. I threw myself into it enthusiastically but
rather unemotionally. I was a very demonstrative lover
and I masturbated frequently. I had a high libido and
I didn't deny myself the opportunity to experience a
bit of sexual fulfillment. In my intended career as a
mathematician, I was sure that my high school
dalliances would be overlooked. Objectively speaking,
I was a great piece of ass. I fucked enthusiastically,
climaxed reliably and gave as good as I got. Most of
my boyfriends seemed well satisfied.
On the basis of my grades and an almost perfect
performance on the math portion of the SAT I received
a scholarship to an Ivy League college. Good female
mathematicians are as sought after as seven foot tall
basketball centers. My college social life was a
restrained version my high school social life. I had a
brief, intensive lesbian relationship with a college
roommate during which I discovered that I wasn't a
dedicated lesbian at all. I was rational enough to
realize that the sex of the person caressing my body
didn't matter too much. Either sex could give me an
orgasm. All they had to do was touch me the right way
in the right spots.
About halfway through college I enrolled in a large
class taught by a noted scientist. The scientist
lectured to the assembled class which then broke up
into sections, each taught by an advanced graduate
student. My section instructor, Dave, and I hit it off
well and he asked me to join him for a cup of coffee
after the class. This casual date lasted three days in
bed in his small off campus apartment. His key
unlocked the gates of my soul, releasing years of pent
up lust and passion.
We fucked each other's brains out interrupted only by
a delivery of Chinese take-out food to keep our
strength up. We sucked each other, ate each other, and
penetrated all each other's orifices, climaxing over
and over. I never knew it was physically possible to
have so many massive orgasms in that short a time.
We slept with each other as often as possible
throughout the remainder of the school year and
married during the summer vacation. Fortunately I
didn't fuck Dave's brains entirely out. He received
his advanced degree in a hot area of biophysical
sciences and filed for several critical patents after
graduation. These served as the basis for an
independent and highly profitable research company.
After half a dozen years of successful growth he sold
the company, patents and all, to a large
pharmaceutical manufacturer for an obscene amount of
money. My math skills aided his research and formed
the basis for several of the major patents. So in a
way I contributed materially to the family fortune.
The university offered my husband a professorship
which he gratefully accepted.
We were blissfully happy. We loved each other deeply
and had two wonderful children. It was a storybook
romance. Then it all came crashing down, literally. My
husband was killed in an airplane accident while on a
consulting trip for a client. I grieved for an entire
year, hardly leaving the house.
Both my parents and my in-laws were very comforting.
They adored the grandchildren and succeeded in
creating a warm, comforting family atmosphere. But at
night, when I went to sleep alone, I couldn't contain
my grief. Often I cried myself to sleep. I would touch
my body in the way my late husband had touched it,
trying to imagine he was there in bed with me. My
hands often drifted to my genitals and I found that I
was pleasuring myself just the way he would do.
I wasn't a naive schoolgirl. I had given myself
solitary climaxes all through high school and I knew
exactly what I was doing. My touches were aggressive
and intimate and I gave myself decent orgasms. I
didn't fool myself by pretending that I was being
fucked by Dave but my body responded to my caresses.
In the refractory period after my climaxes I fell into
a deep sleep.
And that's how I got through the next year. Every
night, after I went to bed I would masturbate until I
climaxed. After I had cum one or two times I would
fall asleep. One in a while I woke up in the middle of
the night and did it again. It was better than
sleeping pills.
With the kids now in school every day my time was
largely my own. I had my share of dates and lovers. A
university community has a lot of eligible men of all
ages. I made it a point not to sleep with
undergraduate students but everyone else was fair
game. While not the campus whore, I was an easy lay.
It didn't cost me anything and it avoided the
necessity of meaningless conversation. Promiscuous sex
was a wonderful antidote to self-pity. While I was
cumming I tended to forget how lonely my life really
was.
But to tell the truth, few of the men I slept with
really excited me. I loved the total body feelings
that I used to get when Dave and I made love and I
never experienced them with any of my partners. I knew
my own needs better than anyone else and since my
husband died my best sexual experiences were with
myself. Sex for one was often better than sex for two.
So nights when I didn't have a promising date, I dated
myself. No mincing words here. I simply masturbated. I
could love myself in just the way I wanted. I could
use my body as I pleased. I didn't have to answer to
anyone. I could suck my tits, plunge cucumbers into my
cunt, lick my pussy juices off my fingers, caress my
beautiful legs and give myself orgasm after orgasm
until I dropped from exhaustion. As I said, I could
pleasure my body any way I chose. I was free to enjoy
all its delights.
Most of these self-indulgent evenings started with a
frank assessment of my assets. I stripped, then stood
in front of my large bedroom mirror. I turned slowly
from side to side. As always I was entranced by the
view. The reflection showed a well-toned woman with
bountiful breasts and great legs. I was truly the
girl, now the MILF, that all the high school boys
wanted to fuck. I was a bit older, perhaps, but I knew
I would still be a great piece of ass.
I returned my gaze to the mirror. Strangely enough, my
face looked even younger than it had during my college
years. I had given up trying to appear "adult." I used
almost no makeup and I still wore my hair in a
ponytail. It was so easy to tie. If you looked closely
you could see the slight lines around my eyes and
face. The fashion magazines charitably called them
"laugh lines." I felt that each one represented a gem
of wisdom that I had picked up over the last decade.
But all in all, a quick glance would reveal a girlish
looking face on a voluptuous frame. I reminded myself
of Leslie Caron in the movie "Gigi." A baby face on a
courtesan's body.
"I like the way I look," I said quietly to no one in
particular. "If I were a lesbian, I would love to "do"
me myself." I imagined myself sucking and my mirror
image and I got turned on by the very thought. I could
feel my nipples start to stiffen in anticipation of
self-pleasuring. How wonderful it would be to go 69
with myself. I would eat out my juicy and very
delicious cunt while mine was being eaten as well,
giving and receiving orgasms for hours.
Of course, I "did" myself often, probably far too
often. But tonight was tonight. I felt unusually horny
and I knew I would work myself up to a really massive
orgasm. Maybe more than one. In fact I would probably
fuck myself until I was totally exhausted.
I ran my hands over my breasts. Gravity had taken some
toll over the last decade. My breasts had become
slightly pendulous. They were no longer the half
melons that graced my chest in my college days. Age,
breast feeding, and enthusiastic loving does that to
you. Standing erect my nipples nearly reached my belly
button. At first I was disappointed in this change in
my lovely boobs but paradoxically they made pleasuring
myself more enjoyable. Don't get me wrong. My breasts
were as full and meaty as they had ever been, and, if
anything, even sexier than they used to be. They were
almost the size of three pound sacks of sugar and had
become exquisitely sensitive.
I could raise them to my mouth and suck them without
bending my head. I could even do both nipples at the
same time. But they were no longer the tits of a
Playboy bunny, more like those of a burlesque star or
a porn magazine model. When I looked at myself in a
mirror I was always astounded at their mature beauty
and erotic promise.
I would hold a big breast in my hands and gently pet
it as if it was a playful puppy. One hand beneath my
heavy boob, the other stroking the top. My fingers
would move toward the end. I would run my forefinger
around the base of the nipple and feel it start to
erect. Then I would roll the nipple between my thumb
and forefinger until it stood up like a little
soldier. I reveled in the sensation from my nipples.
They liked to be pulled hard, sometimes even bitten.
Often when I had both hands around a tit I gave into
the temptation to squeeze it until my fingers would
meet around the circumference. I liked to squeeze my
tits. I remember the old saying "getting your tits
caught in a wringer." I knew what a wringer was. It
was a device with rubber rollers that pressed the
water out of damp clothes. I felt that if the wringer
rollers were not too tight I might not have minded
getting my tits caught in one.
Kneading the mounds of sensitive flesh with my fingers
was always pleasurable but actually sucking the
nipples was indescribable. I would tongue the slightly
rough nipple surface and feel it grow hard. In my
mouth the nipple grew to the size of a small acorn.
Initially sucking and chewing my nipple was vaguely
like scratching a small itch. Pleasurable at first.
But the need for stimulation didn't go away, it grew
more intense and demanded more and more sucking and
harder chewing. Soon simple nipple nibbling was not
enough. My hands gripped my fleshy breast, forcing it
deeper and deeper into my mouth. I bit my nipple with
my teeth as hard as I dared. The pleasurable feeling
metamorphosed into a sexual desire that spread
throughout my body, to my legs, to my cunt. I wanted
me in the worst way - and I usually had me.
I looked at my image in the mirror as I raised each
breast to my mouth and planted a kiss on the nipple.
Just looking at my tits was exciting. I grasped my
right breast with both hands and squeezed my fingers
around the middle. I loved squeezing my tittie. The
breast was both soft and resilient and indented easily
under my finger pressure. Pulling my tits hard made
them hurt a little. A bit of sexual pain was exciting.
It added a little spice to my arousal. If I hurt my
boobs a tiny bit and played with them long enough I
could have an actual climax. But that wasn't my intent
tonight.
The end of my breast bulged like a water balloon under
my finger pressure, the areola and nipple growing even
bigger. It felt so good. Would it burst if I really
squeezed tightly? I pushed the expanded end into my
mouth and bit down hard. It hurt but the pain, mixed
with the pleasure of chewing my nipple, felt so erotic
that it almost made me cum. I would definitely have
tooth marks on my tit. I repeated with the left
breast. No point playing favorites.
Then I made a face at the mirror image. I realized the
absurdity of the sight, my young looking face sucking
on my burlesque queen boobs. It was almost perverse.
But I surely enjoyed what I could do to my breasts and
the feelings I got from the light torture of my
sensitive nipples.
Still looking in the mirror, I held a breast in my
mouth with one hand and lowered my other hand between
my legs. I worked my fingers in and out of the moist
tunnel and when they became sufficiently lubricated I
started stroking my clitoris. My consciousness was now
totally centered on my vagina. In my mind I became
only a throbbing cunt. I had no idea how long I
fingered my clit and sucked my tittie. It could have
been seconds or it could have been minutes.
All I knew is that I couldn't stop doing it to myself.
I didn't intend to go all the way so soon but my body
was calling the shots. I sucked harder and moved my
fingers faster. The feelings were intense. All I could
think about now was making myself cum. Just before I
climaxed the world seemed to vanish. I saw nothing and
all I could hear was my muted scream when I orgasmed.
When I recovered my senses I found that I was still
staring at my image in the mirror. Now my eyes were
riveted to my legs. I was fascinated by my legs. They
were firm with strong thighs and shapely calves. The
canyon of my thighs ended in a very welcoming pussy. I
would have loved to have my own full thighs wrapped
around my head while I licked up the juices from my
dripping vagina. My husband loved it too, eating me
out while I squeezed his head between my legs. His
magic tongue could make me cum in less than a minute.
I regretted not paying more attention to the
flexibility exercises when I was at the gym. If I had
I might be able to suck my own cunt. I had seen
pictures of a very flexible gymnast doing it. I often
tried to get my high school boyfriends to eat my cunt
but most were more concerned with sticking their dicks
into it. They rarely played with my legs either. Men
seemed to be attracted to my boobs but I thought that
my legs were my best feature.
I often would sit cross legged on my bed and caress my
lovely legs. I would run my hands from my ankles up to
my knees, massaging my strong calves on the way. Often
I would bend down and kiss the sensuous curves of my
calves, enjoying the feeling of my lips on my flesh.
If I couldn't eat my cunt I would eat other parts of
my body. Once in a while I would grab the full back
side of my calf between my teeth and bite down as if
to savor a bit of my lovely leg.
I never did more than leave a few tooth marks but I
was sure that if I was ever captured by cannibals and
roasted for dinner they would eat my calves first.
Like the drumstick of a turkey. Then my thighs and my
juicy pussy, saving my tits for dessert. Maybe they
would even bite my nipples off as an appetizer. I was
sure I would taste delicious. It was a really sick
thought but I knew that's exactly what I would do if I
was a guest at the cannibal's dinner and forced to eat
a clone of myself.
My thighs were athletically muscular, a residue of
hours of exercise. They formed nearly perfect cones of
flesh from my knees to my rounded ass cheeks, bulging
a bit at the back to accommodate my hamstrings. I was
fond of caressing my thighs, feeling the strong
muscles within. My hands would drift up my thighs,
kneading the soft inner surface. That felt really
sexy.
I knew that I could make myself cum if I continued
teasing my legs. But more often than not my attention
would be diverted by twinges in my pussy. I shifted my
position to the edge of the bed, long legs extending
in front of my. The light from the bedside lamp shone
directly on my crotch. I looked at my image in the
mirror, then spread my legs so that I could get a good
view of my genitals.
I wanted to watch what happened when I gave myself an
orgasm. It was a mixture of both curiosity and
voyeurism. I really enjoyed seeing the sexy things I
could do to myself. I didn't always need to play with
my tits to cum. A good leg massage and a little pussy
action was sometimes enough.
I reached down and ran my hands over one leg from the
ankle up to the thigh. As I leaned over to reach my
calf my nipples rubbed against the top of the thigh,
adding to the erotic sensation. I grasped the thigh
with one hand, pulling it up towards my chest. With
the other hand I rubbed the nipple of the dangling
breast over the thigh's smooth skin to increase the
sexy friction. My thighs were inviting me to pleasure
herself further. Round and firm, they led like walls
of a sexual canyon directly to my vulva.
I stroked the inside of my thighs upward to my pussy.
I spread my legs apart and caught a whiff of the
musky, sweet smell of my pussy juices. Cupping my
fingers, I scooped up a bit of my exudation and
brought it to my lips. I licked the fingers savoring
the taste and smell. I would love to bury my head
between those thighs and suck the juices directly from
my cunt but no matter how often I tried, I couldn't do
it.
Sitting naked on I bed, I turned to glance at my
reflection in the full length mirror on the wall. I
admired my dark hair, deep blue eyes, and creamy skin.
My gaze wandered over my large breasts, soft mounds of
flesh that seemed to invite caresses and fondling. I
slipped my hand down across the front of my chest,
lightly passing over one nipple, feeling it harden
beneath my palm's passage. I blushed with arousal as I
felt an electric tingle in my clit. I let my other
hand drop down past my tummy to caress the top of my
bare thigh.
With the fingers of the other hand I spread the lips
apart so that I could get a better view of the pink
inside. The lips were already partly swollen from my
excitement, and I could see the tiny knob of my clit
poking out of its nest. I put a finger inside and felt
the wet, slick tunnel of my vagina close around it.
Two fingers would feel even better. Three even better
yet.
I watched myself move my fingers in and out of my
cunt. Finger fucking felt so good. My fingers moved by
themselves while I simply watched. The pussy lips
swelled even more and my clitoris reared its head like
a little prick. I allowed my fingertips to rub
rhythmically against my clit in mesmerizing circles.
The motion sent little waves of pleasure through me. I
was just doing what my body wanted me to do. My breath
increased and my heart raced as my body made the
decision. I knew that I was going to give myself
another orgasm.
I moved so that my left hand palmed a breast, while my
right continued to work on my clitoris. It was like my
clitoris was giving me little shocks of electricity.
My eyes stared at my flushed face in the mirror.
I started moving my fingers in and out of my vagina.
First two, then three. I needed to fill myself up.
Back and forth, in and out. Faster and faster. I was
really finger fucking myself now and I liked it. More
than liked it. I loved it. My pussy sent throbs of
arousal through my body. I knew that I was going to
make myself cum soon and I wanted to see what I looked
like when I had an orgasm.
As I fondled my genitals I could see my pussy lips
swell and get moist. Little drops of fluid lubricated
the area. For a while I tried stay objective as I
watched myself rising to a climax. I rationalized that
it was all a scientific experiment, pure observation.
But my body would have none of it. My fingers moved
faster and the feelings got stronger. My other hand
clutched my thigh then gradually drifted toward my
pussy. In a moment it too was assisting in my
masturbation.
I said to myself softly, "You are finger fucking
yourself. Look at your fingers going in and out.
Doesn't it feel nice? Give it to yourself good. Move
your fingers faster. Rub your clitoris harder. Pull
it, stroke it. It's your little cock. Play with your
little cock. Make yourself cum, really cum." My words
seemed to add an extra spice to my actions, and my
hands redoubled their efforts.
I watched my fingers explore my swollen cunt and
engorged clitoris. I tried to look at my face while I
was pleasuring herself but it was difficult to
concentrate on anything but the area between my legs.
I could see my legs start to quiver as I worked my
clitoris and cunt, the muscles contracting and
relaxing as if I was dancing in time with my finger
movements. I knew that there was no turning back now.
My body was calling the shots as I rose toward the
ultimate ecstasy. I could hear my guttural cries of
pleasure.
"You're doing it to yourself. You are really doing it.
You are making yourself cum. Just a bit more. It feels
so good. It's starting. Oh God! You are cumming now!
YES, YES, CUMMING, CUMMMMMING!" My legs vibrated and
stiffened as I thrashed in ecstasy on the bed.
Still I kept watching. I could see my face framed
between my spread legs. In the final moments before
cumming I got a glimpse of my face. It had a look of
intense concentration, almost like I was having a
religious experience and sexual pleasure was my true
god. The vision was lovely. I had never seen myself
looking so absolutely beautiful. I knew I would have
to do this again.
So on many evenings, after a nice warm bath, I would
put some soft music on the stereo, lie in bed, raise
one of my big boobies to my mouth, and tongue my
sensitive nipple. If I felt really horny I would suck
both nipples at the same time holding my breasts in
place with one hand. Sucking both nipples was
particularly exciting. Sort of stereo eroticism. My
free hand found its way to my cunt. I would caress my
pussy lips, finger fuck herself, and gently massage my
clitoris. I could make herself cum quickly but I
usually preferred to prolong the pleasure by taking my
time. I could rub and caress and manipulate my
clitoris as hard or as soft as I wanted. If I was
especially horny after a leg massage I would insert
the fingers of one hand in my clit and the forefinger
of the other in my anus, moving them both in and out
together. I could feel the bulges of the individual
fingers moving through the partition of flesh between
my ass and cunt.
I felt that it was a very naughty thing to do.
Penetrating my cunt and anus together excited my so
much that I would climax in seconds. I didn't do it
often because I liked to masturbate slowly, savoring
all the stages of sensual excitement building up to a
fulfilling orgasm. A good masturbation session would
usually take an entire CD of music, about 45 minutes
to an hour. Sometimes I dozed off while fingering and
sucking, to wake up some time later and continue where
I left off. I could spend hours loving my responsive
body. It never disappointed me.
When I masturbated my normal rational, analytical
persona seemed to split. It is as if I became two
people, a sexual aggressor and a willing victim. An
orgasm is an orgasm, man or woman. When I have one my
body reacts almost automatically, I lose control, and
I spasm in pleasure. But there are differences in the
mental attitude of each of my psychic parts. It's all
in the way I get there. As the aggressor, most of the
fun is in the chase.
I enjoy getting my hands on the lovely responsive
woman I am seducing, on my own body, holding it,
kissing it, feeling it up, touching and then kissing
my breasts, and finally getting my fingers into my
cunt. Much of the pleasure is mental. I enjoy making
my body squirm and lose control under my touches until
it demands that I fuck it. My favorite part is making
myself climax. I enjoy the feeling that I can make my
body cum on demand. It's as if I have the ultimate
power over me.
Thinking of myself as the willing victim is different.
I have to be worked into climaxing by gentle touches,
by kisses, by stroking my breasts in just the right
way, by caressing my legs and finally by very gently
fingering my cunt. Not finger fucking yet. I'm usually
not ready for that until my body has been loved for
some time. Only then am I ready to be fucked. The
buildup to an orgasm is quite physically pleasurable.
It's not all in the mind. I can be raised almost to
the point of orgasm when I'm barely awake. And a lot
of physical sensations, not really intended to be
sexual, can make me want to have a climax.
So which aspect of loving myself do I prefer? I like
the total physical involvement of the willing victim
better, especially when my aggressor half is inspired
to do a really good job on my body. But as the
aggressor I like the feeling of control that makes my
body go crazy with desire and have a full blown
climax. So it all depends. I like to be the fucker,
but I also like to be the fuckee.
However I do it, I simply like to cum. I'm basically a
self-oriented nymphomaniac. If there was a medical
diagnosis of "auto-nymphomania" I could be the poster
girl.
When I go to bed in the evening I usually clear my
mind of the day's worries by giving myself a gentle
"good night" climax. It is like hitting the reset
button on my brain. Everything seems better after a
nice orgasm. Then to lull myself off to sleep I put my
hands around a dangling tit, squeeze it until the end
bulges, raise the nipple to my mouth and suck and chew
the tender nub and areola for minutes on end. My cunt
is satisfied but I still want my tit.
I alternate between breasts, sometimes doing both at
the same time. My boobs are still my favorite sex
toys. Warm, comforting, and very tasty. Often I fall
asleep tonguing my nipple like a pacifier
I remembered the pleasure of nursing at my own breast
after my son's birth and longed to breast feed myself
if I ever got pregnant again. I loved the taste of my
milk. More important, I loved the idea that it came
from my big beautiful tits. Had I been selfish enough,
I would have sucked myself dry and bottle fed my son.
But, if I wanted to repeat the experience, there was
no need to get pregnant. Besides, while I knew several
men whose cocks I enjoyed in my cunt, I didn't intend
to get impregnated by any of them.
I've read that adoptive mothers who want to breast
feed their babies can start their breast milk flowing
by long bouts of breast sucking. It has to be
continued for several weeks and is usually accompanied
by a drug cocktail to fool your body into thinking
that you have just had a baby. Each breast must be
sucked for approximately 10 minutes at a time, 8 times
each day.
That's a lot of breast play but I have no doubt that I
could perform this pleasurable chore. In fact it would
be a lot of fun. It should give me something to do
when watching TV. I would dearly like to nurse at my
own breast again. If I start now I should be drinking
my own milk from my big nipples in a couple of months.
I almost laughed as I imagined the vision of my
girlish face sucking my very womanly boobs. I can't
wait. I'll start tomorrow.
And I did. Every morning after I got the kids off to
school I relaxed in front of the TV and looked at the
morning news. I pushed down the neck of my sweatshirt
and fished out a big, meaty, lovely breast. The nipple
was already hardening in anticipation. I raised it to
my mouth and reveled in my morning's pleasure. The
news was divided into ten minute segments. When one
cycle ended, I started on the second breast. I
repeated the sequence two times more before lunch and
three times more before the kids came home from
school.
After dinner I sucked my big boobies for dessert and
then used them as a pacifier before going to sleep.
Lest you think this was an onerous chore, I found it a
positive delight. I just loved sucking my big boobs
and now I had a purpose.
I kept up my pleasurable chore for two months, never
missing a session. Let's see now. Eight times a day on
each breast, ten minutes at a time, for 60 days.
That's 4800 minutes of breast sucking or 80 hours. A
full three and a third days of tit oriented self-love.
The interesting thing was that handling, squeezing,
caressing, and ultimately sucking my tits so satisfied
my sex urges that I didn't voluntarily masturbate
during the entire two month period. And I was a woman
for whom self-induced orgasms was the main pillar of
my sexuality.
I did have climaxes from time to time, usually in the
context of sucking one of my tits. But I never
intentionally tried to give myself an orgasm. As I
nursed and chewed the sensitive nipple, I would feel
my arousal rising. This usually happened after I had
taken a shower and had dried myself vigorously with a
towel. I would sit on the bathroom stool and stretch
out my long sexy nude legs in front of me while I held
one breast in my mouth. My unoccupied hand would reach
down to my still moist pussy. A few touches on my
swollen clit and I would cum. I didn't intend to give
myself a climax. It just seemed to happen. Sneaky,
isn't it.
By the end of the second month I noticed that my
breasts seemed to be getting larger and my nipples and
areolae were distinctly darker. I recall that this is
the way that they looked when I was nursing. Perhaps
my efforts would pay off and I could nurse from my own
tits again. I certainly hope so. I wanted to be my own
cow and get fresh milk right from the source. That is
from my own beautiful, sensitive nipples.
A few days after I noticed the change in my nipples, I
found that I could suck a few drops of a thick, creamy
liquid from my tits. From my prior experience at
nursing my son I knew that this was colostrum, pre-
milk, and that I would soon have my own supply of real
mother's milk. My hard work over the last couple of
months had paid off. Within a few days the volume
increased. My milk became thinner and sweeter. The
more I sucked, the more the volume grew. Elsie, the
Borden Cow had nothing on me.
The first evening I produced a full mouthful, I was in
heaven. I lay back in bed sucking my sweet milky
essence from one breast, then repeated with the other.
My hand found my cunt, intentionally this time, and I
started finger fucking myself. It was time for a
celebration. I was a fountain of mother's milk. A
mammary goddess. Sucking and fucking, how wonderful.
What a sexual playground my body was. And I had a free
pass on all the rides.
Of course I had an earth shaking climax. And after a
few moments rest, another one. I thrashed and writhed
on the bed, every muscle tense. My legs danced a
carnal ballet. My back arched, my body supported only
by my head and feet pressing against the mattress as I
came again. I'm surprised that my screams of ecstasy
didn't wake the children. I'm also surprised that
during my orgasmic spasms I didn't bite off my nipple.
I was so caught up in cumming that I could have bitten
off my entire tit without noticing it until the next
morning.
And so my life continued. I did all the things that a
single mother does. Attended to the children,
shopping, and housekeeping. I worked three days a week
at the university library fielding inane questions
from students and professors alike. I went to the gym
regularly. I even served on a few of my kid's school
committees and the PTA.
The only difference was the way I attended to my
sexual needs. I would arise in the morning, long
before the children would awake, and have an early
morning breakfast from my bountiful breasts, suckling
at least a half pint of absolutely delicious milk out
of them. I usually masturbated to at least one climax
before I got out of bed to fix breakfast for the kids.
The rest of the day went on as usual.
In the evening the children and I would play games,
talk over what happened in school, and watch a bit of
family oriented TV. Then dinner, stories, and bedtime.
After the kids were asleep I would turn to the porn
channel on TV for an hour or so. This usually made me
excited enough to masturbate to a very fulfilling
orgasm while I nursed from my never ending milk
supply. I was in carnal heaven. What more could a
woman want?
Well, one thing this woman wanted was the feel of a
hard cock in her cunt. Making love to myself gave me
fulfilling climaxes but sometimes too much of a good
thing is simply too much. I was hungry for a little
variety. I enjoyed "doing" myself but once in a while
I wanted someone else to "do" me. I finally got the
chance after a faculty party.
My deceased husband's university department threw
several parties each year, allegedly intended to
promote collegial interaction, but really an excuse
for drinking and consuming platefuls of unhealthy
foods. As the widow of an esteemed department member I
was invited to participate. From time to time I also
served as a mathematics consultant to department
members. Contrary to popular opinion, biophysicists
aren't the greatest mathematicians in the world.
A former colleague of my husband introduced himself
and asked me for some mathematical help on his
research project. He told me his name was Eric. I
vaguely remembered him. He was just starting graduate
school when my husband was about to receive his degree
so I guess he would be a couple of years younger.
Probably my own age.
Eric's research was in an area similar to that of my
late husband so I was familiar with the mathematical
problems he faced. I told him I didn't have an answer
for him but after the party I would look over my old
notes and have the answer for him the next day. He
could come over for coffee and I could offer some
solutions. We arranged a meeting for the next
afternoon. This was strictly business, nothing further
was implied.
Eric called the next morning and asked if I had any
suggestions for his research. Actually I already knew
the answer. I had solved the same problem for my
husband a number of years ago. All it required was the
application of a little known statistical analysis
method to the research data set. It was a technique
unfamiliar to most physicists but common amongst
statisticians and mathematicians. I asked him to come
over later in the afternoon. My parents had taken both
kids to Disney World for the school spring vacation
week so we would have plenty of time.
Eric came over about 2 p.m. He was surprised at the
size of my house until he realized that I wasn't
living on a typical professor's pension. Like any
proud householder I gave him the grand tour. I showed
him the kid's rooms, the exercise spa, and my state of
the art computers. All the relevant notes were laid
out on the kitchen table for his inspection. I asked
him if he would like a cup of coffee.
At first I didn't plan to entice him in any way but he
turned out to be so much nicer than the men I usually
dated that I thought I might give him a whirl.
Besides, he couldn't keep his eyes off my tits when we
were seated at the table. Not that I blamed him. I was
wearing a low cut tank top, showed plenty of cleavage,
and I jiggled as I moved. He must have gotten a good
look at my legs too as I crossed and uncrossed them
several times in my short denim skirt.
Eric was in very good shape for a middle aged man. He
played squash twice a week and biked to work every
day. That evening I checked with some of the older
members of the library staff and found that he had had
prior relationships with other faculty women and
graduate students. Nothing serious had ever developed
but all spoke well of him. He was a real man, a mensch
as one Israeli exchange student put it. So apparently
his cock was in as good shape as the rest of his body.
The next day I called him and told him that I had
uncovered some additional information that he might
find interesting. He might want to come over and take
a look at it.
Sure enough, Eric made a return visit that afternoon.
I was wearing roughly the same skimpy outfit as I had
on the previous day since it obviously attracted his
attention. I loaded the data analysis program that I
had written for my husband's research on my laptop
computer and placed it on the table. We each poured
ourselves a mug of coffee then we sat side by side so
he could look at the screen. Incidentally, he could
also look down my tank top and get a nice view of my
bulging boobs.
The bulging of my boobies was unintentional. Eric had
arrived just before my afternoon breast play and
sucking session and I was full of milk. One of the
downsides of lactating, whether you are doing it for a
baby, a lover, or yourself, is that you have to commit
yourself to a regular emptying schedule. Your breasts
fill whether you want them to or not. If you have a
real baby sucking at your tit, it gets hungry every
four hours or so and takes care of the fullness
naturally. I nursed at my breasts myself and I enjoyed
doing it. But today my breasts were getting full at
just the wrong time. In a short while they would begin
to become uncomfortable.
One of the standard plots of porn fiction is the
lactating mother on a trip who breaks her breast pump
and finds her breasts hurting so badly she fears they
will burst. She has to find some accommodating man who
will suck the milk out of her titties. All that is a
load of bullshit. Full breasts are simply
uncomfortable, like a sore muscle. They don't burst.
If not emptied, all they do is leak. Human tits don't
have much storage capacity and the surplus milk just
dribbles out the nipple. In real life leakage is
usually handled by nursing pads or, in emergencies, by
a couple of wadded up Kleenex stuffed into the cups of
a nursing bra. I knew I would be reaching the point of
leakage soon. I might as well use it to my advantage.
"This have been a very interesting discussion," I
said. "But we will have to stop for a while. I have to
empty my breasts."
Eric looked quizzical. This was certainly an odd
comment in the midst of a conversation about
statistical analysis.
"Yes," I went on, "I have a condition that makes my
breasts produce milk and I have to milk myself several
times a day. Do you mind if I do it now or would you
like to come back some other time? You can watch if
you want. It's not gross or anything."
"No, I don't mind. In fact I would like to see you do
it if it won't embarrass you."
I don't know what he thought I would do. Perhaps use
an electric breast pump or something. I'm sure he
didn't expect what I actually did. Frankly, it
surprised even me.
I reached into my top and pulled out my right boob.
Eric's eyes popped. I think he was startled, both by
its size, and by the fact that I did it so
nonchalantly. The turgid nipple was centered in a
brown areola and a tiny drop of milk appeared at the
tip as my hand clutched it.
"See, " I said. "It's leaking. I may have waited a bit
too long. Would you like some more milk in your
coffee? I know I would." I'm sure that my last remarks
really shocked him. But, what the hell. In for a
penny, in for a pound.
I leaned over and squeezed a stream of grade a
mother's milk into my coffee cup. Actually I had done
this before. I sort of fancied a few squirts of my
milk in my morning coffee. It added just the right
touch of sweetness.
Eric stopped me before I could do his cup. "I like my
coffee black," he said. "But what does it taste like?
I've never tasted human milk before."
"Well, it tastes like . . ." I hesitated a moment,
then said, "I can't describe it. Why don't you come
over here and find out?" This was going better than I
hoped. I sat down on the couch.
"Now put this little bump in your mouth and start
sucking. Don't bite me though." I held my naked breast
up with both hands and offered it to him. He staggered
over in a daze and sat next to me. I put one hand
behind his head and placed my nipple in his gaping
mouth. He felt the rough nipple with his tongue and
closed his lips around it. He started sucking like
through a straw but nothing came out.
"You have to press the flesh around the nipple with
your tongue against the roof of your mouth for the
milk to start." I coached. "That's how the babies do
it. It's just like milking a cow."
Eric followed my instructions. I don't know if he had
ever milked a cow before but he was rewarded with a
flow of my sweet milk. I could feel the pressing lips
and the wonderful feeling as my milk started to stream
into his mouth. I pressed his head into my breast as
he sucked. Although he started tentatively, he was
really getting into it and started sucking so strongly
that I thought that he would swallow my whole breast.
As he sucked I looked down and saw that he had a
raging erection. It was pushing a tent in his jeans.
I'm sure he hoped that I wouldn't notice. No such
luck. With my free hand I unzipped his fly and pulled
out his hard penis. Just as Eric was startled by the
size of my big boob, I was surprised at the size of
his hard cock. I wrapped my hand around it and began
stroking. It was so matter of fact that he had no time
to pull back.
With a few strong strokes he erupted, spewing cum over
my hand. I could tell the instant he came by the way
his jaw clamped down on my tit. I held him even
tighter to my chest as he continued to suck. Finally
the milk supply was exhausted. We both sat up, my
naked breast hanging obscenely out of my tank top, his
now limp cock protruding from his pants. He had come
so profusely that there were big blobs of semen all
around his fly.
"I'm so sorry for the way I behaved," he said. "It's
really unlike me. I just got carried away." I'm sure
he felt deeply ashamed and that I would never want to
see him again.
"It's all my fault," I replied as I stuffed my boob
back in my top. "I started the whole thing. And I must
say, I enjoyed your mouth on my nipple. Are you sure
you've never milked a cow? By the way, we will have to
do something about those pants before you go. Take
them off and I'll pop them in the washer. They will be
washed and dried in an hour or so."
"I might as well do your sweatshirt too," I said. He
stood up and took off his jeans. Eric doffed his
sweatshirt as well and stood there in T shirt and
shorts. I was right about his body. He was lean and
quite fit. A really good looking man. After I put his
clothes in the washing machine we sat back down on the
couch and tried to talk about statistics again. But
given what had just happened, there was not much
chance of that.
"Do you know that you are still leaking?" He pointed
to a slight wet spot on my tank top near the nipple of
my other breast.
"Well, of course," I said. "We only milked one of
them. Would you like to do the other?"
"May I?" Eric asked. "I would like to do it if it
won't be too much of an imposition."
"Of course not. I enjoy having you suck my milk. But
first, let's get more comfortable. I'm going to take
off my top so it won't get too messy. You should take
off your shorts too. Remember what happened last
time."
We were simply dancing around the topic. I knew before
the afternoon was over I would get fucked by Eric. He
knew it too but we were bound by convention to observe
the proprieties. I took off my top and exposed both of
my big beautiful breasts in their entirety. I raised
my left breast in my hands and offered it to Eric.
"This is the one that needs emptying now," I said. I
was kneading the breast as I held it. I was tempted to
simply raise it to my own mouth to savor its goodness
but I could see that Eric wanted it. I could suck my
own titties tomorrow. This would be Eric's treat
today.
Without prompting, I also unbuttoned my skirt and let
it fall to the floor. Anticipating what might happen
this afternoon, I was not wearing any hose or panties.
My sexy legs were as nude as they could be. Eric
pulled off his shorts. His magnificent penis was
already starting to erect. Emptying my boob be damned.
I had something more interesting in mind. I dropped to
my knees, grabbed Eric's cock and jammed it into my
mouth.
I sucked and stroked and sucked, giving my first
blowjob in almost a decade. And it was one of my best
ones. His cock became hard as iron. But before he
came, Eric grasped me under the arms and pulled me up.
He wrapped one strong arm around my shoulders, the
other around my ass and lifted me like a baby. Without
apparent effort he carried me upstairs and deposited
me in the middle of my king sized bed. He had
remembered its location from the grand tour the
previous day.
Within seconds after I was deposited unceremoniously
on the bed I felt Eric's big cock penetrate my cunt.
No hesitation. He just plunged into me. So far that it
hit my cervix. I was being royally fucked. Just as I
wanted to be. Eric was indefatigable. His first climax
of the day had obviously taken the urgency out of his
passion and he was now in it for the long haul. I felt
his hands on my legs, clutching my thighs. I wrapped
my legs around him and pulled him into me with my
strong calves. I felt my left breast start to leak. It
was the one that had not been emptied. I pulled the
nipple to my mouth and started sucking out the milk.
We both came in the mother of all climaxes.
We stayed in bed the rest of the day, fucking and
sucking, fucking and sucking. Eric loved my legs and
caressed them as he feasted on my cunt. He ate me like
he was devouring a gourmet meal. It was almost a
replay of my first date with David so many years ago.
Except this time we didn't have to send out for
Chinese food. We feasted on my milk, Eric nursing on
one tit and I the other. Eventually I would have to
let my beautiful, sensitive, sexy mammaries dry up but
we could both enjoy their bounty until that day.
So I got what I wanted. A hard cock in my cunt. My
milk in my tits. A lover who would "do" me the way I
wanted to be done. And, if I played my cards right,
perhaps a decent man to spend the rest of my life
with. It promised to be the best of all possible
worlds.
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 74