Coming of Age

I sat down quietly on the stool, and Chloe waved to me with her highlighter hand. I just watched, fascinated.

At first, I thought she was switching back and forth between talking on the phone and reading her textbook, but as I kept watching, it became obvious she was actually doing both things at the exact same time. She'd be saying something to her mom—"Oh, those fit me really well, actually, if they're cotton ..."—and simultaneously, she'd also be reading and carefully highlighting lines in the book, without any interruption, without a need to pause one activity or the other. She kept at it, somehow able to talk and listen, and comprehend chemistry course material as well as keeping an eye on the baby—all at once. I tried to imagine doing that many things at the same time, and couldn't. It seemed impossible.

Finally, she said goodbye to her mom and pulled the AirPods out. "Hi," she said. She turned slightly and flashed her eyes toward her phone, sitting on the little table next to her. "My mom."

I'd always heard things about girls and multitasking, but never really understood what it was about. Was this what it meant, this magic, this voodoo Chloe had performed? What more could this girl do at the same time? Read two books at once? Read a book while watching a movie? That kind of skill did seem to bode well for performance in a 69, being able to give and receive simultaneously; we hadn't tried that yet. Mental note.

---

It was really nice that Chloe was living with me; I never regretted her presence. I loved having her around, just because, well, I really liked her, and she was fun to look at, and because there were other side benefits.

One day I was out back, pouring gravel around the outer boundary of the new pavers. It was going to be another hot day, so I started early, and even by 10 AM I was kind of sweaty and disheveled. I'd got the work half done, though.

Anyway, Chloe's head poked out the back door, smiling sweetly at me. "Hey, babe," she said, "wanna come in for some refreshment?"

She didn't mean lemonade, and I knew it. It meant that the baby was down for a nap, and since my mom was at work, the two of us were effectively alone in the house.

I almost ran to the door.

Chloe sauntered over to the couch and sat down and laid a throw pillow on her lap. I knew what was up, so I got myself settled, too, laying down on the couch, facing her, getting comfortable with my head on the pillow. Meanwhile, Chloe undid a clip above one of her bra cups, and pulled the cup completely down to bare her breast. She removed the little white pad that had been living in the cup and set it on the end table.

I gazed longingly at her nipple as it reddened and swelled up; her breast was preparing itself for me, which was a really exciting and arousing sight. Chloe stroked her breast a little bit and ran her finger across her areola and nipple a couple times, too.

She let out a quiet "hmmm" and took hold of her breast, then wrapped her other arm around me and pulled me very close. We were both getting good at this now; our positioning was becoming easy and automatic. I opened and let her push her breast in, and her nipple slid deep inside my mouth. I latched on, my lips stretching around her areola. Chloe maintained her hold on her breast, keeping it at my lips, and she started playing with my hair with her other hand.

I suckled, and it took only seconds before I tasted her, sweet and floral and delicious. My first swallow, audible, happened very quickly; Chloe let out a quiet, delighted little laugh.

I loved laying near her, taking her breastmilk. It wasn't just that I loved how she tasted, although yeah, that was a big part of it for me. It was also just exciting to be drawing food out of her body; we both felt so close when we did this. There really are not words to describe the kind of intimate feelings I would have while I fed from her breast—maybe if I was a girl and had a better vocabulary, I could find the words, but beyond "intimate" and "tingly" and "relaxed" and "erotic" I am at a loss. It wasn't just the nectar-like flavor of Chloe's milk that I loved; I had a strong sense of her body entering mine, and it made me feel ecstatic and complete. Chloe said she felt the same sort of way when she sensed me ejaculating deep inside her vagina, but I just didn't think it could be as satisfying as how it felt to feed from her thick, swollen nipple.

I loved the shape of her boobs. It was a thrill to have my lips around the end of her big, oblong breast; I always thought it had the shape of a torpedo, with the business end buried deep inside my mouth. Or maybe I'd think of it as a navel orange, as I'd imagined that first day. In either case, every time I caught sight of Chloe's naked breasts—even when I saw her clothed or in a bra, too, really—I felt immediate excitement. It wasn't just because I knew what we could do together with them. It was the shape that was just so exciting. The way they stood out from her, jutting proudly and erotically away from her chest, shaped to perfectly fit inside my mouth, that made my cock get rock-hard immediately, on sight. It's good that Chloe was so willing to give me her milk, because otherwise I probably would have driven her crazy.

Her first orgasm came about ten minutes in or so. I wasn't touching her anywhere sensitive, and she wasn't touching herself, just holding me and holding her breast to my lips. It was breastfeeding me that gave her the orgasm. Everything had been very quiet and still when we started; there was silence except for the wet sounds my mouth made on her breast as I fed and fed, and for her soft sighs and whispers. After several minutes, her breathing got faster and louder, and I started hoping she was about to come.

Chloe reacted a little differently when she had a breast orgasm; she jerked less and shuddered more. She didn't yelp as much, and instead, usually let out long, low moans. But I couldn't miss the signs of it. I usually felt like her milk flow got stronger while she was coming, too.

When it was finished, she told me what'd happened, as if I didn't know. She gave me a tight squeeze and kissed the top of my head, and then stroked my hair with her hand affectionately. She told me in a soft voice how much she loved doing this with me. After that, she pushed away to unhitch her other bra cup. We switched breasts.

This had been happening more and more often when she nursed me, having breast orgasms. I found it exciting and very gratifying that I was giving that to her, just with my mouth. It never happened when she fed my sister or any of the other babies she occasionally breastfed in the nursery at Cuesta—it was a special adult thing, only.

Time became difficult to track when we were together like that, but it was probably about five minutes later when I felt another shudder going through Chloe's body, and I knew it was happening again. Her milk flow increased, and I could hear her softly groaning as the orgasm ran its course.

Minutes later, when I was full and done feeding, we held hands as we walked to our room. We both quietly stripped off our clothes and laid in bed together. I climbed on top of Chloe, spread her legs, and pushed my cock between her fat outer labia and into her body. She had two big orgasms before I lost control and ejaculated.

---

Afterward, Chloe put her breast up to my lips again, and I fed some more. Once my stomach started to feel full, we just laid together, cuddling softly.

I had a thought. "So, your milk is really meant for babies, right? That's like the main purpose. I mean, I love it, but I know it's not really for me, like, biologically and stuff. So, like—it's not bad for me, is it? I mean, like, healthwise."

Chloe pushed herself up on one arm. "No, not at all. No, it's good for you. It's not just for babies, really."

I turned to look at her, and she returned my gaze.

"We studied this," she continued. "It's really good for you. I mean, it kinda doesn't sound like it, 'cause it's got a lot of fats and sugars in it, and that doesn't sound very healthy, I know, but it's the kinds of fats and sugars that make the difference. They're really quick to digest, so they turn into energy really fast, and they turn into new cells and stuff, too, when they're in your body."

"New cells—so you're saying I am actually becoming you?"

Chloe laughed. "Yup! Like, scientifically, yeah, that's what's happening, really. My body is going into yours to repair things and make new things. Isn't that crazy? But it's real."

"I think I kinda like that idea."

"Yeah, me too. And then, there's all the anti-bacterial stuff. Like, breastmilk kills germs. It's amazing that way. And it kills cancer cells, too." She was smiling the whole time she said this, practically beaming.

"I had no idea."

Chloe sat up, and I did, too, positioning myself right next to her.

"Yeah, and then, also, there's the immune system stuff." Chloe still looked like she was glowing. "Like, OK, look, no offense, but, like, being a girl, my immune system is way better than yours. That's just science, the female immune system is superior. But, my milk has all my antibodies, so it's kinda like you're hooked up to my immunity. I bet this fall you won't get sick at all. You can text me later and thank me." She laughed again.

"I hope it lasts that long. I've been getting sick a lot the last few years. And yeah, I had some health class freshman year and they mentioned that a girl's immune system is supposed to be better than a guy's."

"We mount a much bigger immune response," she said, seeming to quote a textbook.

"Well, I'll take any help I can get," I told her.

"It's for real. It should last a couple months after you leave, I figure. And it gives you more reasons to come back and visit." She looked a tiny bit sad when she said that, I noticed.

"Oh, I already have some big reasons to come back. And maybe we can figure some stuff out, before winter break."

"Good, because I get pretty sad thinking about it."

"Don't be sad," I told her. "When I leave, it's not for good. It's just for a little while."

"OK," said Chloe.

"So, tell me," I said. "How come I've never heard of this? You know, being able to breastfeed like this. I mean, the way you talk about it, this is done all the time, all this stuff, but, like, I didn't even know it was possible for you to have milk if you haven't had a baby. And wet nurses, never heard of that, either."

Chloe looked amused. "Wet nursing has been around for a long time, for eons. I guess the way it is, everyone who needs to know about it already knows, or they're going to find out, and everyone else, well ..." She shrugged. "Whatever. Same with bringing in your milk—we call it 'inducing lactation.' If you're a girl, you've probably heard of it. Boys? I figure you just wouldn't know, right? How would you even find out?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"I think people are afraid it'll make everyone uncomfortable. It's kinda like sex. People get all uptight and shit. But wet nursing, yeah, that is done all the time. It's pretty common, especially with all the working moms. The PLA has like, 40 or maybe 50 members—"

"PLA, what's that?"

"Prolactin Association," she told me. "At Cuesta. Prolactin's a hormone. Anyway, like, half of them already have their milk in. Maybe more than half. And the rest probably want to."

"No babies?"

"None of them have babies. These are all, like, women my age. They're all like 18 or 19 or so. No babies, just breastmilk. A lot of them are wet nurses, or they at least want to try it out."

"Hmm. So do they ...?"

"Oh, there's enough demand, yeah. It's really more of a logistical thing, getting into wet nursing."

"No, I mean are they—" I stopped and gestured, flipping my pointer finger back and forth between the two of us.

"Oh," she laughed, getting it. "Are they in breastfeeding relationships? Well, yeah. I mean, come on, if they have a partner, milk has to be involved. I think it's natural."

I nodded.

She looked at me. "I mean, I didn't have any trouble getting you interested, and you weren't even my boyfriend."

I laughed at that. She was right.

"You do hear horror stories sometimes. I mean, I had problems with my ex, but other girls have told me shit, too. Usually it's a Tinder hookup, or, like, a new relationship or something. They get naked and the girl's all, 'Here's my pussy, slide right on in' and then the guy figures out about her tits and he's like, 'Oh my god, breastmilk! AUGHH! And runs away." She laughed, recounting the last part.

"Man, I don't get it," I said. "It seems totally natural to me—well, now, anyway."

"I don't get what's wrong with these guys. They don't want to try the milk, and they don't want their girls feeding babies. Like, OK, you don't want a girlfriend who's a wet nurse? You mean you don't want a girlfriend who can buy you a new Playstation for Christmas?"

I laughed—it was a devastating point. I hadn't thought about it till then, but women who could do this had to be paid well.

"Anyway," she said, "it's usually younger guys you hear about, who freak out like that. You don't hear about anyone older having a meltdown, just the younger guys."

I wasn't that old, so I kept my mouth shut.

"I had this teacher, for Society, Relationships, and Family Living and she was all, 'You young straight women, 18, 19 years old, you shouldn't even be looking at a man if he hasn't had his 25th birthday yet. The younger ones just aren't ready for you. They're still just boys.'" Chloe laughed. "I mean, I'm like, come on, I have more faith in guys than that. Look at you." She indeed looked at me. "You're 22 and I think you're ready for me."

"I think I am. I'd like to think I am." I was grinning.

"You are, you're mature enough."

We kissed.

"So do you ever feel weird about what we do together?" I asked. "You know. I mean the feeding stuff. I mean, 'cause, you know, you feed babies."

"I guess I just see it in a practical way," she said, casually adjusting the little wire clip in her hair. "My boobs make milk; that's what they're for, what they do. And who I give it to is up to me, right? My body, my choice. Luna, she's a baby and so the only food she can handle is breastmilk. So obviously that's why she nurses from me.

She pointed. "You, you're a grown-ass adult."

It felt good to hear her say that. "I've noticed," I laughed.

"You can eat whatever you want," she continued, grinning at me. "You don't need my body just to be able to eat. So when we're together, when you're taking milk from me, it's about something completely different, right? It's like—we use the same bed for sleeping and for fucking, right? Or, wait, this is better: I'm speaking right now, talking to you. And the things I say to you are nothing like what I say to Luna. Right? Same mouth, but completely different things to say."

"Right," I said.

"It's totally the same kind of thing with my boobs. When you take milk from my body, it means a completely different thing. It's about closeness and stuff like that."

"Yeah," I said, "and for me it's about how it makes me feel, too—"

"Aww."

"It does, it makes me feel really good, and—it's also that, like, it's always just so amazing to me that you can do it. I want it just because it comes from you."

"Yeah, that's really what I mean," Chloe said, "that for us, it's about closeness, like, putting my body into yours. It's not about survival. It's just about being together."

"I really like how you make my stomach feel. I gets, like, really warm, and then I feel amazing, all over. Nothing else makes it feel like that," I said, giving her a warm smile.

"Aww," she purred. "Yeah, and I gotta admit, it feels really good for me, too. It's like being on the best drugs ever, really." She laughed a little. "Every time you're suckling, after all the spikey tingles I get when my milk lets down, I start feeling this warm flow inside, like a whole warm river is flowing through me." Chloe was moving a hand in front of her chest and stomach. "Like, from my uterus to the tips of my nipples. And I feel contractions, too, in my uterus, and they feel good, kind of like mini-orgasms. I get this overwhelming happy feeling, cuddly feeling. Every time you pull on my nipple, it feels like you're tugging on my clit. And then afterwards, I'm, like, super-relaxed and I just feel really accomplished. Like, I've got this power.

"And the times it's made me come, then it's just all the better," she said, smiling at me.

Of course she's actually the one having the better time, I thought. But I didn't feel envious. I felt happy that she felt that good while she was doing that.

I snuggled up to her and gave her a long, warm hug.

---

We were eating muffalettas for lunch again—Chloe's request.

A couple days prior, she'd mentioned that she'd really love it if I made them again. It didn't take much work to convince me; they were fun to make, and I couldn't help but think that whatever makes your girl happy is worth doing. Once my mom came home from work, I made Chloe go with me to the grocery store to get the stuff I needed.

"I kept thinking about them," Chloe laughed, while I was busy trying to find the right ciabatta loaf. "They were just so yummy. Plus they seem like they'd be kinda caloric, and I could really use the calories." I saw her gesturing in front of her chest. "And, thing is, they'll always remind me of the time you made them for me, and, you know, the rest of what happened."

I turned my head and grinned at her. And that night, we managed to recreate the "rest" she was talking about, except that it was in bed and not on the couch.

A couple days later, I presented Chloe with a plate of sandwiches around lunchtime. She made a big deal out of her first bite, and I did appreciate how nice she was being about my "cooking."

"So," she said, swallowing a mouthful of muffaletta, "I was talking to Emma yesterday. She's this friend of mine at Cuesta. I think I probably mentioned her before."

"I think so, yeah."

"Anyway, so I was talking to her and a couple other friends, and I'm like, 'You know, we have all these new laws and we're all 18. Has anyone been to a bar yet? An actual bar? Because I haven't.' And none of them had. I'm like, why not?

"And part of it is because we're all wet nurses, so we're working all the time, and we gotta be kind of paranoid about alcohol and everything. But still, one night in a bar? We get days off. We don't have to study for school 24/7. Let's meet up at a bar sometime."

I shrugged and grinned, swallowing. "Sounds like a good idea to me."

"Well," she continued, "we kinda figured out that part of the thing is that we're kinda nervous. I mean, it just doesn't feel like the same kind of thing as being in a restaurant, even when they're serving beer or wine or whatever."

"I guess it's a little different."

"Yeah, so I think that was what was part of the problem," she said. She picked up another sandwich; I had divided them up into smaller chunks this time to make them easier to manage. "I think we all kind of felt like it would be nice if we went with someone who knew what bars were like. Know what I mean?"

"Like, a friendly face tagging along," I said.

"Yeah, exactly, exactly. And so, I'm like, 'I bet I could get Ash to go with us. He's been to bars. He's a guy and he's 22.'"

I nodded. "I'd go."

She was grinning at me. "I knew you would. I didn't, like, commit you or anything, but I said you'd probably be OK with it. And so then, Emma's all like, 'What about his friends? Does he have any cute friends?'"

I laughed a little. Now I was getting the full picture.