Coming of Age

Her speed increased again.

I really wasn't going to last a lot longer. I knew that for sure now.

I felt a rush starting to build. "Chloe," I breathed urgently, "I'm gonna come. I'm gonna come. Like right now."

"Mm-hmm!" I felt her hum.

And then the euphoria hit. I lost all awareness for a second or two, but just as my first contraction started, I realized that Chloe's lips were wrapped around the very top of my head, and that she was sucking extremely hard. As I started ejaculating, I was sure I could feel her actually sucking the come right out of my balls. I don't know if that's what really happened, but it sure as hell felt like it, as though her powerful suction was draining all the come out of me and into her mouth.

It felt so good that it made me moan, something I never do.

She sucked and sucked, and I felt about six contractions. The sensation of having the come sucked out of me was pretty incredible. Just coming inside a girl's mouth always felt satisfying, but this was next level, for sure—deep, warm satisfaction.

When it was over, I looked down at her; all I could see was the shadowy outline of her head. I heard her gulp, and I knew she was making a little show out of swallowing my come.

"You're so yummy," she said, laughing quietly. "I wish you'd let me do this to you all the time. I love the taste so much."

We rolled around and ended up spooning—Chloe was several inches shorter than me, so she was always the little spoon, which I liked very much. One of my hands made it up to a breast and was stroking it gingerly.

"I like that you moaned," Chloe said, softly.

"Yeah, well, I couldn't really help myself. Hope it wasn't too loud. I felt kinda like you, always putting your hand over your mouth when you come."

"It wasn't that loud," she said. "Not as loud as I get, I don't think."

"Yeah, well, you do have a lot more to get loud about."

"I never really thought that, never even thought about it, but I guess it's true. I found a whole thing about this in one of my school textbooks the other day. We have a lot more nerve endings in the right places, we girls. That's part of why there's such a big difference." Chloe turned to face me. "Like, your penis has about 3,000 nerve endings. But just between my vagina, the inner clitoris, and my clit head, I've got like 12,000. So, I guess, just imagine getting a really good blowjob—"

I grinned: "Like the one I just had?"

She laughed a little. "Sure. So now imagine something four times more, feels four times better."

I shook my head. "I can't."

"Yeah, probably too hard to imagine. I wonder if your body could handle it. Like, maybe a girl's orgasm would feel so huge it would make you go clinically insane or something," she laughed.

"Or even kill me."

I was feeling waves of envy. I decided to change the subject. "So, you've never really told me how all this started," I said, indicating her bare breasts. "Like, what really made you want to, you know."

"Bring in my milk?"

"Yeah. I mean, you just had the idea one day? Or was it the group at Cuesta?"

"No, I found out about it way before that," she told me. "A long time ago. And then after that, I just always knew I was gonna do it. I mean, I probably want to have a baby someday, but I knew I was gonna breastfeed babies before that ever happens."

"So is it a secret? The thing that got you into it?"

"No, no," she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. "I just didn't think you'd want to hear all the details."

"I want all the details."

"OK, well—I already had big boobs by the time I was 12. And I liked it, liked the idea of it. I felt like I was really getting to be a woman, you know? I played with them a lot. And even before that, before I hit puberty, you know, when you're a little girl and you see all these grown up women with boobs and you realize you're gonna be like that someday, and knowing what they can do with them, it's kind of exciting, really.

"Anyway, and then—my Aunt Jess had a baby. And the thing is, her partner, like, bailed on her when she wasn't even six months along. She starts really showing and he's just like, 'I'm outta here' and he left and she never saw him again. Even now. She tried to find him to get child support and whatever, and he's just gone, like, he changed his identity and went into hiding or something. No one in his family even knows where he is.

"So she's gonna have the baby alone. Her house was on the way to my school, so I used to stop there in the afternoons, you know? Like, to help out with whatever she needed, especially when she got to that stage where all she could do was waddle around the house. So I'd help clean and help with laundry and sometimes I'd cook her dinner."

"That was really nice of you," I told Chloe. "Hell, at 12, I was playing video games and running around getting into trouble."

"Well, girls mature faster than boys," she said, sweetly. "Yeah, so then after she had the baby, I was over there every afternoon because Jess really needed the help and she didn't have anyone. Other people would stop by sometimes but she was really pretty much alone. So I went, every day. I learned how to change diapers, and I held her a lot—the baby, I mean—and just tried to help any way I could.

"Anyway, so one day Jess and I were sitting in her living room, and she was breastfeeding Zoe—that's her daughter. And I was just watching, thinking about how amazing it was that Jess was feeding the baby from her own body. Jess has even bigger boobs than me, so it was really quite the spectacle." Chloe laughed a little.

"I asked Jess what it felt like, and she told me about how it could really hurt if you didn't get the latch right, but if you do, it's really nice and pleasant and it makes you feel kind of tingly. And I said I thought that was so cool.

"So then Jess is like, 'Do you wanna try it?'

"I'm like, 'Huh?!'

"Jess says, 'Do you want to try breastfeeding her?'

"And I'm all, 'Uh, I'm only 12 and I've never had a baby, so I don't think I really can.'

"And Jess says, 'No, no, I know you don't have any milk, but do you want to try putting her to your breast?'

"I remember just sitting there feeling my mind blowing up. Like, really? So then I ask her if she's serious, and she says yeah, she is. She says she's gonna finish feeding her, and then she'll just hand her over to me and I can try it. And she tells me to take my top and my bra off.

"So I just did. I took off everything—my top, I mean—and my bra, and I just sat there sorta waiting. And I could feel my nipples starting to get really hard, you know? It was so strange. It's like they knew what I was going to do and they were getting ready.

"Then Jess gets done feeding the baby, and she stands up and walks over and puts her in my arms. And it just felt so natural to have the baby there against my bare chest, and that was weird that it felt so natural! But it did. So then Jess just told me what to do—hold your breast, tickle the baby's lips with the nipple, and when the baby's mouth opens wide, pull her to you and try to get as much of the areola in her mouth as you can.

"And that's what happened: Zoe opened her mouth and I just pulled her onto me, and she latched on. It was hella intense, like, really powerful, but it didn't hurt. And then I just felt tingly and nice and it felt really natural. All of a sudden, I was a woman! Crazy, I know, but I just knew right then, I'm a woman now. I felt it even more than when I first got my period. I just knew I was a woman.

"So, anyway, I was sitting there, dry nursing the baby, and Jess is telling me about wet nursing. She said she'd started having a sitter come in to watch the baby just so she could get out of the house at night sometimes, and that the sitter was a wet nurse, so she was breastfeeding the baby. I didn't know that was a thing, so it was kind of blowing my mind."

"Yeah," I said, laughter in my voice, "I think I can relate."

Chloe laughed a little, too. "Yeah, so, Jess is telling me that this is actually kind of common. It's just that people don't really talk about it.

"Anyway, I just figured the wet nurse was some other mom, right? And Jess starts telling me that no, it's a teenage girl from the neighborhood. And she'd never had a baby. She'd just brought in her milk to be a 'wet sitter' and that this was something you could do. If you're a girl, I mean.

"And even right then, I'm like, OK, Chloe, this is something you have to do. I just knew it right then that I was going to bring in my milk someday and be a wet nurse. I wanted to try it right then, try to induce, but Jess said I really shouldn't because I hadn't had my period all that long, and that lactating messes with your cycle, so I shouldn't.

"I ended up doing that a lot—dry nursing Zoe, I mean. Usually whenever I was over there, I'd end up doing that. Not wet nursing, not then, but Jess kept telling me she wanted me to dry nurse her.

"But I never forgot about it, about actually wet nursing. I knew I was gonna do it someday. So when I got to Cuesta I joined the PLA and they helped me get started. And here we are."

I gave her a big, full-body squeeze; she felt soft and warm against me.

"I'm glad you did it," I told her. "For more than one reason. Obviously it's doing Luna a lot of good. But I kinda like it, too."

Chloe shifted and rolled over, and pushed a breast to my mouth. "So do I."

I latched on and started feeding again. About 20 minutes later, Chloe moaned her way through a breast orgasm. We both drifted off after that.

---

It was late in August, about a week before I had to leave for school, when I walked into our room and found Chloe sitting on the bed. There were dried tear streaks across her pretty cheeks.

"You OK?" I asked, my voice quiet. I might have been a guy, but I wasn't that clueless. I knew what this had to be about—something I hadn't wanted to think about or deal with.

"Yeah, just letting it all out," she said, and her smile seemed genuine and not pained. "Sit down here with me. We have some things to talk about."

I sat, probably looking scared. The "we have to talk" thing didn't usually bode well, I knew.

Chloe just grinned at me, almost like she was going to start laughing. "It's OK, it's OK," she said, and there was indeed a light laugh in her voice. "This isn't anything bad."

"OK." I was sitting now.

"Look, you're leaving soon."

"Well, yeah, I know," I moaned. I really didn't want to go back to school. That was a big change for me; usually, by the end of the summer, I couldn't wait to do the long drive and get back there.

"I know how things will be when you're back at school," Chloe said, looking very serious.

"It's not like I'm gonna forget you or something," I said, feeling equally serious.

"Yeah, I know, and we're gonna FaceTime, and you might come home for visits once in a while. I know. But the thing is, I also know that you're going to be in bars sometimes, some nights, and there are going to be girls there—more girls than ever, 18, 19 years old, in a bar for the first time, looking for all the older guys."

I couldn't deny that. I just kept listening.

"What I'm saying," she told me, "is that at some point, you're going to be a little drunk, and some 18-year-old hottie is going to get you to go home with her."

"Chloe—"

She put her hand up to stop me. "I'm not saying you're looking for it. I know you're going to tell me you don't want to do that. I also know what alcohol and pretty girls will do to a guy. I have a pretty good idea, anyway." She smiled sweetly.

"Well—"

She stopped me again. "Look, what I'm trying to tell you is: that next morning, when you wake up and start feeling awful—maybe you're still in her bed—don't. Don't bother feeling awful. We aren't married, you didn't go looking for it, and it just happened. I want you not to bother feeling guilty."

"Yeah, but—"

Her hand went up. "Don't bother feeling guilty. I'm saying it's OK. I know you, and I know you're not going looking for girls to fuck. Like I said, though, it's probably going to happen anyway. Blame the alcohol. Blame whatever. It doesn't matter."

Even now, in the midst of a conversation I found painful, I couldn't help but be charmed by the sound of her voice, the tone so mellifluous, her enunciation so precise. It was soothing.

"I want two things," she said. "First: please remember to use a condom. Please don't get so drunk that you forget."

I didn't bother protesting. I just nodded.

"And second," she said, and she suddenly looked very vulnerable. "Please come back to me. Please don't go falling in love out there."

I grabbed her and hugged her tightly, and then kissed her. "No, no," I said. I knew that since I was about to leave town, it would be a really stupid idea to tell her how I'd been feeling for weeks, to say those powerful words, but it was obvious anyway that the feeling was mutual. It had to simply stay unspoken at that point. It wasn't the right time.

As much as I hated what she was saying, I knew she was right to say it, and I admired her for it. I had to hand it to her: this kind of foresight and understanding was way beyond what I was capable of. She truly was more mature than I was, even three years younger.

"OK, first," I told her, "I don't want that to happen and I swear it's not going to."

"And if it does, don't worry about it," she smiled.

"OK, OK. Anyway, I was thinking: yeah, I'm gonna come back a couple times, sure. And yeah, we're gonna be on FaceTime or Skype or whatever, and we're probably gonna sorta do things together sometimes."

"Yup."

"Thing is, I know it's kind of a long drive. And—"

"How long a drive is it, anyway?" she asked.

"About three hours." It was actually closer to three and a half, but I wasn't going to mention that right then. Positive spin. "OK, so the thing is, what if we meet halfway sometimes? There's this town that's about halfway between here and San Pedro—Hartford. It's where Lake Hartford is."

"Oh, I've heard of Lake Hartford," she said. She'd brightened quite a bit when I started talking about this.

"Yeah, so it's a resorty sort of area, so there are some nice hotels there. And I was thinking, well, if Chloe's willing to drive an hour and a half, we could meet sometimes and get a hotel room and be there for the whole weekend. Oh, but—" I paused for a second, realizing. "Thing is, I'm only 22, so I can't make hotel reservations yet—"

"But I can, though," she reminded me. "The new laws. 18 for girls."

I had to laugh a little. "Yeah, that's right. I guess we're OK, then. You'd have to make the reservations. So, what do you think? Could you get away for a weekend sometimes? It's only an hour and a half. Not that bad."

"Not that bad at all. And yeah, Angie—I mean your mother—she gives me a lot of weekend off anyway."

I squinted at her. "I know my mother's name is Angie."

She just laughed. "And yeah, you're worth a drive like that. It's not really all that long anyway. And it sounds like a lot of fun. I've never been to Lake Hartford, so I'd really like to go see it with you."

"OK, I'll start looking at weekends."

"Another thing," she said. "So, would you be open to me driving up to San Pedro? I mean, I know, I'd probably be kind of invading your space, worlds collide, that kinda thing, but—"

My eyes were wide. "You'd make the drive? Hell yeah, you can come. You can stay with me. I want you to meet my friends and see that whole world. You wouldn't be invading."

Chloe looked pleased.

"What if," I said, "you came up, like, in maybe three weeks? Couple weeks into the new quarter. It would be the perfect time. And you can see these bars you've been imagining. And be able to go in."

Chloe was looking at the calendar app on her phone. "Yeah, I think I can do that. I'll tell Angie—your mom, I mean—so she doesn't book something for that weekend."

"OK, cool," I said. "Now I'm excited. I think stuff like that will make all this easier."

"Me too."

We kissed again.

"Oh, hey," she said, her lips still close to mine. "Get this! I got a text from Emma this morning—she was at Jamie's place. She spent the night."

"Oh, really," I said, grinning. That sly dog, Jamie.

"Yeah," Chloe said, "and Emma told me he tried her milk and just went 'apeshit' over it, her words. Can't get enough. Thinks it's the greatest thing he's ever done with a woman."

I laughed for a few seconds. "That is awesome. Good on Jamie. Good on Emma! And yeah, I can understand where Jamie's coming from. I kinda have to agree."

Chloe just grinned and hugged me.

---

Leaving was still a painful and emotional ordeal, though.

The night before, we spent hours naked in bed together. We made love, and after my orgasm put me out of commission, we rested and cuddled and breastfed. Once I could rise from the dead, we made love again.

And that's what it was, by the way, making love: I realized this while we were doing it. It wasn't just fucking; it had never been just fucking. It was lovemaking, and I realized that I knew the difference. When I had fucked those girls at school, it was really more like masturbating in a vagina. Sure, I'd tried to make sure they had orgasms, and had a good time. In the end, though, it was about me getting off.

Sex with Chloe was always about communication, and real desire. I was using my body to tell her how amazing I thought she was, and I definitely got those kind of messages from her while we were together, as well. We made love. There was something very adult about that, and I was convinced that Chloe was the difference.

I'd had an epiphany as I was propped up on my arms, hovering over Chloe, looking at her beautiful face, listening to her cries of pleasure, watching my penis as it speared through the spread of hair between her legs and into her hot vagina—I knew that I wasn't just a kid fucking some girl. We were showing each other how much we cared with our naked bodies. I was truly making love, and to a fully grown woman who was having orgasms and would have more, until I couldn't hold out any longer. I was a man, now, and I knew it. I wasn't a kid using some girl's vagina, and assuming she was just using my dick. This was a lot more than that.

Later the next day, as I was driving back to school, I got to thinking: was this what those girls were hoping for, the girls I'd hooked up the year before? What if they were full-grown women, ready for more than just casual hookups, hoping they could help me blossom from boyhood to manhood—and that's why they'd spent the time teaching me so much?

There was suddenly no doubt: these 18-year-olds I'd been with, they were indeed women, hoping to find a man, make me into a man. It must have been so difficult for them, because there were lots of women at my school, but not very many men, just lots of boys. Those women I'd been with were hoping that when they were teaching and guiding me, it was an investment. Maybe I would grow and rise to the occasion and would be ready for more than just hookups and fun. And I just wasn't. I was still a boy, and I really just wanted to fuck. I was fucking grown women who were hopeful, well-meaning, but ultimately disappointed. I may have made them come, but I hadn't satisfied them.

Boy, was my mom ever right: girls become women long before boys become men.

I wondered if those 18-year-old women shaved themselves because they were trying to lure boys. They used razors because they thought they had to make themselves look more like girls. They were hoping the boys would develop into men, and after that, maybe the girls could be less concerned about razors and reveal themselves as grown women. A man would want to see the signs of womanhood on her body. It would arouse him, and affirm that he was a man. He didn't need to pretend she didn't have body hair like an undeveloped girl. Suddenly, the very idea of a woman having to shave herself bare seemed repugnant. It was something you'd like if you were just a boy, it seemed to me.