("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2012. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- 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