Bee's Story, My Story Ch. 16

"Hi everyone! I know it's been a wait, and I'm sorry for that... but unfortunately, 2020 hasn't been entirely kind to us. What an understatement, huh? But it'll make more sense as you read on. I want to thank those of you who have been so incredibly understanding, supportive, patient, and sweet to me over the past few months. I can't believe I've been sharing my story like this for over a year now! And I still can't believe where my life has taken me/us. I can't express how grateful I am to you all for being such a good outlet for me, for letting me be vulnerable and honest. For reading my posts, and sometimes even caring about my well being. I have more to say at the very end of this post, but I don't want to delay what you're all here for any longer.

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Thursday, December 12th 2019

We haven't seen a whole lot of each other since Thanksgiving. I'm continually surprised at how easy it can be to live in the same house and have the kind of intimacy we share and just not see each other. With Christmas coming, he's been buried in his homework and cramming for finals. He hasn't seemed as stressed as he has in the past, but he's definitely exhausting himself with the workload. I haven't been putting in too much overtime in the lead up to the end of the year, but I've been working my ass off during my normal hours.

I came home at about midnight tonight, to find him at his desk working diligently. I feel like he's looked like that every time I've seen him lately. Hyper focused, clacking away at the keyboard. I felt bad, and I had to urge him to take a break from typing up the big report he was working on tonight, because I knew he needed the break, and I hadn't gotten to feed him all week. It's weird to think how much my body misses the act when it's been a few days. Even if I'm taking care of myself and expressing in the shower or bath before bed, my breasts still ache for him to drink from me. I sat on his bed, pulled my top up over my boobs, and he wordlessly licked his lips and came to me. He gently drank from me and I sighed with contentment, trying not to let the heat building between my legs cloud my thoughts.

I gently ran my fingers through his hair, humming softly. Usually when I do this it's a kind of understanding between us that this is just a feeding and not a prelude to sex. Otherwise I let myself give in to the pleasure and I become a writhing submissive puddle under him and he pretty much has no choice but to take advantage of my state. But as he closed his eyes and drew the milk from me, I couldn't help but notice how hard he was. His pajama pants tented, his length bowed and throbbing. What kind of sister would I be if I just left him like that?

"Do you want me to take care of that?" I asked. Only because I knew if we started something we might get carried away and spend a little more time engaged with each other than he could afford tonight.

He unlatched, and looked a little pained as he inhaled deeply, thinking it over. "I would love that but... let's save it for tomorrow?" He offered, looking like he was regretting the choice.

I nodded and agreed, encouraging him to continue drinking, and as he did, I closed my eyes to avoid looking at him. I used my free hand to keep my exposed nipple stimulated, and breathed deeply as I savored the warmth of the moment. Before long I felt his suckling slow down and weaken until it came to a stop completely, and he unlatched. I opened my eyes and looked down to find he'd fallen asleep in my lap. I almost laughed at the realization, and then I felt bad as I understood how tired he'd been. I whispered his name, and tried to nudge him a little, or as much as I could while he was half on top of me. I was so torn between letting him get the sleep he so clearly needed and trying to wake him up so he could decide whether he wanted to keep working or not. I'd have been content to stay there all night for him if it meant him getting some much needed rest. But I relented and softly called to him until he woke up. It was apparently the right choice, because while he initially looked at me and my exposed chest with calm warmth, he quickly startled as he realized he still had work to do, he thanked me, told me he loved me and moved back to his desk.

I excused myself and told him if he wanted more milk I'd be in the bath. I played some Pokémon in bed for a little bit and wrote most of this before I ended up falling asleep, before he could come to me if he was going to. I woke up to pee a few minutes ago, and it's about 4:30AM and he's still typing. I'll leave him be, but I hope he's not overworking himself.

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Friday, December 13th 2019

I worked a little later than intended tonight, and had to go straight to the club afterward. It was my last weekend performing until my usual big New Years Eve show, but since we're in the heavy shopping weekends before Christmas, it was a very chill, small crowd. I only do half sets on nights when my day job runs late, but I hadn't eaten almost all day and I was really feeling the effects. My head was kind of pounding by my third song. On nights like this, when the crowd is small, and typically full of regulars, I'll often choose a random table to sing my last solo number to, and give the guests a little special treatment, sitting on their table, putting my hands on their shoulders or something, eye contact to make them feel like the song is for them, getting them a little involved (think how I treated my brother during the first show he saw, but maybe a little more reserved). USUALLY it's all in good fun, as the manager is very protective of me and keeps people in line when alcohol is involved.

So when I reached my last song, Santa Baby, I chose a table a little further from the stage so the lights wouldn't be in my face as much. I made it through the song, and the man I sang to was some older gentleman I realized I didn't recognize once I had adjusted to the low lights. I had mistaken him for a regular, but he had a warm smile and I wasn't about to change to another table now that the song had started. Near the end though, I leaned against his table as I sang the last few notes to him, and I was starting to feel a little lightheaded from not eating.

I think I would have been fine and would have made it backstage to my dressing room had he not decided to put his hand on my thigh. He rubbed my leg, and let his fingers slip into the slit on the hip of my dress slightly, where he squeezed the back of my thigh lightly, just under my butt. No one ever touches me like that (when I'm performing at least), maybe they'll take my hand to help me down from the table or the stage, or kiss my hand at the end of a song, or they'll put their hands at my waist to dance for a few bars, but this was definitely toeing the line and it startled me. It happened so fast that I didn't react until he squeezed. The song was over, and I quickly stepped away from the man, but the shock and the lightheadedness I was already feeling made me dizzy, and I stumbled. I rolled my ankle and fell back onto the stage, landing on my butt. The band quickly surrounded me and I felt overwhelmed, and was having trouble focusing, but as they asked me if I was okay, I told them I needed something to eat, and hand waived their concern, trying to play it cool. I was feeling embarrassed being the center of attention like this and not feeling in control.

The bassist quickly went back behind the bar and into the kitchen, and through the gap he made I could see the guy that had touched me was putting his wallet away and leaving. The regulars who were left were clearly concerned, and helped me to my feet, and I sucked the air in through my teeth as I realized my ankle was tender.

"Yo, get some ice for her while you're back there!" Someone called out.

"Yup!" I heard the bassist respond from the kitchen.

The manager came to dote on me and helped walk me back to my dressing room while I did my best to nonchalantly say goodnight to the people who were still left and clearly worried. The rest of the band stayed on stage to do some instrumentals while the hostess watched the floor to close down the club.

"Sweetheart, you okay?" The manager asked when he got me to the love seat in my dressing room. He placed the back of his hand on my forehead to check my temperature.

"I'm fine! I'm sorry, I think I just overdid it today. I didn't eat enough before coming in tonight because I got carried away at work." I swatted his hand away. "Fuck, do I really look that bad?"

He shook his head and smiled. "You look mint, as always. But you GOTTA take care of yourself, please! You know you can always take a night to yourself if you need it, especially on nights like this when you know it's gonna be slow. You're our star, and we want to make sure you're shining every time you grab that mic."

I rolled my eyes but at the same time, they started to sting. "I know, I'm sorry-"

"You don't need to be apologizing to any of us. You still killed it tonight, but you worried us there for a second."

I felt my cheeks grow hot. I swallowed and cleared my throat before my voice barely crackled out, "'Hey, I uh... that guy I was singing to at the end there..." I started- only to be interrupted by the bassist coming back with a ziplock full of ice, a bowl of pretzels, and an apple. He urged the food into my hands, and I quickly took a bite out of the apple, as he helped me turn so he could sit next to me and elevate my ankle across his lap. He gently slipped my heel off of my foot, and pressed the bag of ice to my ankle. I thanked him and winced, stifling a yelp by taking another bite out of the apple.

"What were you saying?" The manager asked, bringing my attention back to what I was trying to tell them.

"Well... he got a little too friendly for my comfort... and that was what threw me off......plus the lack of food... and long day..." I trailed off under my breath. The manager immediately stiffened, his mouth a tight line, and his features suddenly serious.

"What happened?" He asked evenly. His entire demeanor was like ice after how warm he had just been with me. I knew I wasn't in trouble but it was unnerving. I've always gotten the sense that he and the band I headline with are all incredibly protective of me. I'm at least 10-15 years younger than all of them, and at times I feel like a niece or little sister (despite the occasional flirting from the band). But this was the first time I'd seen them show how seriously they took my safety.

"He put his hand on my leg... a little high. And a little under my dress." His features tightened and he pursed his lips at that. But he continued to listen intently. You could have heard a pin drop, they were both so quiet. "And then he squeezed... near my butt... but he didn't ACTUALLY squeeze my butt, he just kind of-" I felt my eyes well up with tears. Really it wasn't a traumatizing thing, I promise, but for some reason at that moment I felt like a little girl being scolded by my dad or something. Like it was somehow my fault. I don't know, that could be some sort of societal conditioning, but I caught myself about to backtrack and defend the stranger. The manager's nostrils flared a little as he took a deep breath, and I could tell he was processing before his features softened.

"Mother fucker. I'm gonna ask you one more time then: are you okay, hon?"

"Ye-" my voice squeaked, "uh, yeah. I'm okay."

"Good." He leaned down and gave me a big hug. "You let me know if I can do anything for you. I'm gonna go talk to this asshole." He started to turn.

"I think he left already." I mumbled.

He turned back, "Well, if he comes back, we'll keep a close eye on his ass, and if he makes you uncomfortable, say the word and I'll personally let him know we don't need his business here." He said sternly, and I nodded in acknowledgement. He snapped his finger and turned to the door, before stopping and pointing at my ankle.

"Don't try to walk on that foot until we give it time to see if it's gonna swell up. I need to get back out there and close things down, but if you need anything let us know. And if you need a ride home, you know we've always got you." I made a shooing gesture with my hands to get him to leave, and looked to the bassist, thanking him again for the food.

He told me that if I wasn't up to performing the next night they'd all understand, otherwise we could just do a piano set which would keep me sitting or draping myself on the piano while someone else plays. I said I would probably be okay for a piano set (truthfully I'd love the extra money for the trip to see our parents, and the manager always gives us generous bonuses for the holidays, which always makes me want to make sure I've earned it. He carefully maneuvered out from under my leg and replaced his lap with a pillow to keep it elevated. He tousled my hair and said to let him know if I wanted something more substantial to eat, to which I simply asked for some water. After he brought it to me and left me alone, I remembered to text my brother.

[Are you busy tonight?]

[I'm taking a break from studying atm to play some Pokémon, why?]

[Do you mind coming to pick me up from the club?]

[oh duck.. is your car okay??] [duck*] [🤬]

[lmao] [yes the car's okay, I'm not. I hurt my ankle.]

[oh shit? Are you okay?]

[ill be okay, I just want to be home, please. Have you eaten? I need to eat]

[I'm good but I can pick you up something on the way there if you want]

[i would love you forever if you did that 🥺]

I contemplated changing into normal clothes, but I was afraid to do it without someone around to spot me, so I stayed in the dress. After a few minutes things wound down and the last patron left the club. As the place was getting cleaned and the band packed up, I let them all know I had my ride home, and they sat with me at the bar so we could chat while I waited for my ride.

The manager expressed that he had never had something like this happen, since I was the only headlining woman he'd had (normally guest performers come through, but I'm the only "in house" girl), and he said that if there was anything he should be doing for me, or if he didn't handle the situation properly to please let him know. I thanked him for being so attentive and said I felt he was doing well, but I'd let him know.

When my brother finally arrived, I said goodnight to them all, and that I'd let them know how I felt before coming in for tomorrow night's set. They walked me to the parking garage, where we ran into my brother and he helped me the rest of the way to his car. He ended up picking me up a lettuce wrap and some fries, and I scarfed it all down in the car on the way home.

"So what happened? Is your foot okay? Do we need to go to the hospital or anything?" He asked as soon as I finished my food.

"I just got a little lightheaded and lost my balance, I'm okay. I think it's just a bit tender, it's not swelling or anything, I just need some rest." I replied, patting his thigh to reassure him that I was good.

He made a sigh that didn't seem all that placated, but I continued to assure him I would be okay. When we made it home, I made myself a little something more to eat, drank a lot of water (I think the problem was mainly that I was dehydrated, which I'm at a higher risk of while I'm lactating), changed into more comfortable clothes (an oversized tee and panties), and chilled out on the couch watching YouTube with him. He let me rest my legs across his lap, and as we watched, he idly caressed my legs with his fingertips. It was soothing and a little arousing all at once, and I could feel myself start to ache for more physical attention.

"So are you done with classes then?" I asked, trying to keep myself distracted.

"I have one more final on Tuesday and then I'm good to go." He answered after seemingly double checking in his head.

"Cool! I'm going to get as much time in as I can before Wednesday and then Ken is taking us to the airport that night. So make sure you're packed."

He nodded his head in confirmation. "Try not to push yourself too hard next week, okay? I know how you are, you focus so hard and you forget to listen to your body. I'm assuming that's what happened today, right?" He cocked an eyebrow at me. Was he seriously trying to lecture me? The little fucker!

"Partially... I thought I could meet my goal for the night early, and have time to eat before my gig, because I wasn't feeling the catering tonight. But my file crashed twice and I kept losing a fair bit of work."

"And you didn't eat before going on stage?" He asked flatly.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Bee!" He groaned in disappointment.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes and instead found myself focusing on the PlayStation logo on my shirt. I was still trying to decide whether or not to tell him about the guy that had touched me. He was already focusing a lot of concern on me and I didn't feel up to giving him further reason to do so. I didn't want to be coddled like this tonight. I'm supposed to be the big sister here. I remember working myself up into an indignant funk just thinking about it all when suddenly his fingertips started to glide up my legs and toward the curve of my hips. I felt myself stiffen as I thought about what happened at the club, and it only made me more frustrated.

"Hey, instead of grilling me, when I clearly already suffered the consequences, can you help me with my tits?" I interjected, already in the process of taking the shirt off. I hadn't had the chance to relieve any pressure since last night and I felt pretty engorged. The veins in my upper chest were pushing to the surface of my skin, making it look more painful and intense than it actually was, but I was definitely full.

He smiled warmly, almost enough to make me melt despite everything, and he moved his way up beside me, resting on his elbow, with his head in line with my breasts. He quickly latched on to the nearest nipple, and draped his free arm across my body to place his hand at my other boob. He expertly tongued one nipple to get it achingly hard for him, while rolling the other one between his fingers, when he wasn't full-palmed squeezing and massaging the entire tit. It immediately eliminated all signs of the bad mood that was threatening to overtake me. Now I was focused on the sensation of my milk quickly releasing onto his tongue.

It sent signals right to my pussy, and I closed my eyes as I struggled to keep from grinding my thighs together. I placed a hand at the back of his head and ran my fingers through his hair as I sighed and shuddered for him. He seemed to take it as a sign to suckle from me harder, which caused me to make a shocked moan. He'd triggered my let down, which surprised me, as I thought I would be too upset or tired for him to get that from me so easily. But I savored the amazing sense of release as he drank enthusiastically.

I had to take my other breast from his hand and bring my nipple to my own lips at that point because I was worried about making a mess on the couch now that the milk was flowing freely from me. We both moaned at the same time, the sound causing our lips to vibrate against my skin at the same time, and we both shared a muffled laugh at our simultaneous expressions. Once the moment passed, I felt his free hand, now looking for something to do, working its way back down toward my pussy. It made me clamp my thighs together and I bristled a little, once again thinking back to the moment at the club.

I don't fucking think so. I'm not going to let a random 10 second moment stunt my capacity for intimacy. I don't want to think about that jerk and how embarrassed I felt after how I reacted every time my brother, or anyone for that matter, touches me now. I felt my chest grow hot with a stewing anger and I was determined to move past this. And the only way I could think to do that was by going through it.