How I Milked My Mother Pt. 02

This is a continuation for the part 1 of this series and might continue this depending on the feedback. As of feedback, I must say I am just another guy with ample knowledge in grammar but not so good in vocabulary trying to write eroticas, so if you feel like this is just low quality, good luck in finding something which turns you on. Or if you do find this interesting, do leave a comment or feedback, I'll continue the series.

Despite the context being Indian, the language will still be in English, so spare the logical fallacy there!

Happy reading...

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It's been 3 months since I started to have this special dynamic with my mom. Some might say it's weird, some would say it's downright incest and against our tradition and a crime blah blah, given the Indian societal aspect. Little do they acknowledge the pleasure I'd get from my mum, way far better than the pleasure I'd get from any girl, and I didn't even go to the extent of looking her fully naked yet. I have been making my moves to finally go between her legs, exactly where I came from, but her moral defences are stronger than my kinky will. However I managed to maintain the milking relationship with her, for 3 months straight, 2 times a day, with her being semi naked throughout the milking sessions, with me lying in her lap, latching my lips around her areolas, looking up her bland face, emotionless, dilemmatic, guilt, low-key pleasure.

I must say her areolas became wider with the constant sucking for 3 months, they're coin sized now, dark brown, patching her voluptuous squishy breasts, and they aren't even saggy like the western milfs' breasts I usually see in porn videos, they're firm but soft, filled with milk. However, lately I have been observing her milk reserves seem to be getting empty. I couldn't get more milk like I used to get from her tanks and these days, the sessions would end within 8-10 minutes even before I could actually fill my mouth. They used to last 20-30 minutes before, and excess milk dripping occasionally in middle of sessions from my mouth, those were the days. And just as the milk production started to reduce, her necessity to let me milk her started to reduce too. I had this leverage on her and now, it's diminishing with her milk production. I couldn't sleep at nights as I'd fill my thoughts with how to take next step in this weird yet beautiful relationship with my mother.

And this night isn't any different either, she just looked at the wall, with a disinterested face while I suck her breasts until I could get the last drop of milk out of those tanks. She used to run her fingers through my hair but now, it's just nothing.

After a 10 minutes session, she covered her breasts with her white nightie and tried to sleep while I switched off the lights and start to stare at ceiling thinking of my next moves. My tendency towards her touch is growing day by day and I couldn't just suppress it by masturbating in bathroom thinking of her. No, I need her actual touch, her soft motherly hands smothering my chest hair, her mature body caressing with mine, becoming one, just like 21 years ago when I was her.

Finally, I decide to do something about it other than fantasizing about it for too long, at least do something before the milk reserves get exhausted. I slowly slide towards her, she's sleeping on her side, facing me with one hand folded and under her head, while the other hand aligning with her body on her waist. Slowly, my shaking hands slide by the gap between her curvy waist and her straight arm, sliding further towards her back. The nightie is loose enough for her to wake up just because of this small touch, but the experience is warm enough for me to get a hard-on just by touching her clothed curvy waist. One thing I know for sure already is that I need to make my moves slowly and wisely. As much as a cow she had become for past 3 months, she wasn't a submissive woman type who would just spread her legs for her son just because his hormones are raging.

However, she is a slave for emotions, just like any other Indian mom, or any mother for that matter. And as I slow down my moves and decide to stay in this position for a while and then proceed, I start to think of the emotional aspect and how can I capitalise that in this relationship. Emotional approach should have been my first move, not this blind I LAY HANDS ON YOU, THEN YOU WRAP LEGS AROUND MY COCK kind of approach, but her skin is too warm and soft to let go of at this moment. And as usual, my cock brings out the worst of my thinking abilities and I keep sliding further towards her until my face is just at her chin and neck, my chest just below her breasts, my hand wrapped around her curve like a snake to a tree, my legs waiting for the warmth being provided by her.

My breaths are directly hitting her bare neck, her breaths are hitting my forehead forming a cloud around me, her body odour filling the environment around me. As much as weird or gross it may sound, I must say that her body odour is just unique and it turns me on to the greatest extent. Especially her shaved armpits, and the musky odour when they're damp or when they sweat, I used to love it during the morning steamy milking sessions with her when she used to be sweaty with house work and I proceed to milk her while keeping my head just beneath her breasts and armpits. And now I can feel it even closer, and even straighter on my face directly. I just take a deep sniff closing my eyes even though it's pitch black already, my face slowly pressing further to her body, my nose and lips going towards her neck and her nightie buttons. Her breasts press against my upper chests, just like two milk filled soft pillows.

My dry lips gently touch her neck and I am careful enough to stuff my cock between my stiff legs so that she won't wake up with something poking her thighs in her sleep. One step from here would definitely wake her up and I can't hold on but to take that step. I slowly smooch her neck and blow my warm breath at her upper breasts, and no woman would ignore this feeling, even in her sleep. And my mom is no exception for this either.

She opens her eyes quickly, her mind still in half sleep, but her Indian motherly instincts up and defensive already, pushing me away from her. She turns on the light quickly and sits on the bed holding her nightie and covering her neck and breasts. "Karthik! What were you doing?" She asks furrowing her brows looking fiercely at me.

She looks completely different now compared to how she looks during our milking sessions. Like a raging bull rather than a submissive cow. "Uhm nothing mom, I was just having a bad dream and I just felt like being closer to you." I stammer and my worse acting skills must go without saying.

She closes her eyes as if she completely understands where this is going and where this is coming from too, holding her forehead with her palm and looking down at the bed with a sigh. "Karthik, this... this is just not correct." She says hopeless as she can't obviously hit her grownup son but I'm sure she would have killed if it's someone else.

"I..." I stutter unable to speak in front of her, "I swear mom, I was just having a bad dream and I felt like laying my hand on you." I repeat same thing again.

She shakes her head with a sigh and even worse, with an expression of disgust in her face as she lies down on bed covering herself with a thick blanket and turns off the light. I can't sleep, I made a mistake. I let my horniness get the worst out of me, all I had to do is to wait and get her defences loose somehow and I just made them stronger. I stare at the ceiling, hopeless, guilty, not because I have such feelings for my mom, but because I am not making the best out of those feelings.

After a sleepless night, the next day when I wake up, I notice she's not on bed. I walk towards the kitchen and notice her cooking for lunch and breakfast already and the way she handles the utensils, I can understand she's still angry at me. That's the thing with Indian moms, they handle the utensils harsher, and you can hear the sound of an aluminium or steel utensil landing on the kitchen counter, when they're angry or pissed off at someone inside the house, and in our house, it's just the two of us.

"uhm mom, should I facewash and brush my teeth so that you could finish cooking and we can finish our morning routine?" I ask wantedly even though this went without saying so far, but now I doubt my chances after what happened yesterday.

She doesn't speak, stands silent, with a steel utensil in her hand. I hear a loud smash of the utensil to the kitchen counter when she turns around gritting her teeth, fists held tightly, controlling her anger completely, staring at me. She lets out a deep breath, "What do you think of me? Like what do you think of this relationship or this house?" she asks staring at me.

I can understand what's gonna happen for the next 1 hour, the usual traditional, cultural, moral, ethical class while I'm supposed to stand in front of her. "mmm what do you mean? You're my mother and I'm just helping you out with your womanly problems?" I say still trying to act as if what happened yesterday is an ignorable thing.

"Womanly problems? What do you even know about them? You think sucking milk out of your mother's breasts is same as helping her? And don't tell me you forgot what you did yesterday night..." she confronts me straight away.

I stand speechless, I wasn't prepared for this situation, what should I do if my mom resents and confronts me for my actions? Maybe this can be a right time for my next move? Or the worst, but I hope the first option is correct. "Well I don't know much, and I started to read about them recently, right after we started this new thing in our relationship. And I started to learn a few things." I say gaining my last bit of confidence looking at her. I'm talking about womanly things with an experienced Indian mother, I might as well award myself experienced in women if I pull this off.

"And I noticed one thing that women usually go into some stage, I don't remember the name, so they go into this stage when they hit 45-50 and I remembered you in that moment, you know, I don't want you to enter that stage." I say with a shrug slyly waiting for her to believe at least some of what I said.

I can see a slight change in her expression, she seems to be thinking of what I said. "Menopause?" she prompts me the word even tho I remember the word but didn't want to make myself sound too knowledgeable just by reading two articles.

"Yeah exactly, that... They say when a woman lacks physical touch for years during their 40th decade, they usually go into menopause and will become ..." I pause a bit again, of course expecting her to fill the gaps.

"Infertile?" she asks, and her expressions are completely changed now. On one side, she's feeling a bit relieved that her son is somehow feeling concerned for her, but on the other side she's confused as of why he's talking about fertility while she's 48.

"Yes that. Infertile. And I felt bad for you, you know..." I say shrugging off.

"What? Why do you care about these things? And that too your mother's issues?" She asks doubtfully.

"Well, I don't know, but for some reason I felt a bit sad when you were feeding Radha's daughter 3 months back. And I saw the motherhood in you, I just don't know how to explain this. But you know, I thought it would make a woman happy to feel young again? And I thought, by breastfeeding or by getting pregnant or maybe by marrying again, you might feel young again." I say shrugging off saying vague lines because she's good at reading between lines anyway, just like Indian women.

"Karthik, what are you even talking about?" She asks trying to hold her chuckle as she finds it funny talking about marriage in her 50's in front of her son. Obviously the Indian roots are stronger in us, and she could never ever think of such act, especially after husband's death 7 years back.

"I mean I know that you haven't had any beautiful moments after dad died, except for Radha's marriage of course, but you know, you don't even seem that old yet, like you are really beautiful and you could still relive your younger days..." I say shrugging off but already started to feel that I'm pushing the buttons too far.

"Karthik, just stop. Don't ever think of those again and I don't want you to talk about my marriage life again." She says with a sigh, but at least she didn't beat me for what I have done yesterday. I feel ambiguous, low-key victorious, low-key guilt that I could have made this discussion more fruitful.

The day goes on silent, not much talking between us, just normal interactions. It's 9PM now and we finish dinner, come to our room to sleep, but I just can't wait to make my next moves. She lies on her tummy with her breasts hanging, almost completely visible through the wide cleavage because of her loose nightie. She adjusts herself just when I enter the room, not that they're new to me anymore anyway. I get on bed, but without sleeping beside her, I sleep perpendicularly to her, with my head landing on her curvy back, just above her juicy plump butt.

"Karthik, sleep normally, you are just increasing my backpain by sleeping there." She says a bit stern but not angrily.

Without replying anything, I lie beside her, a bit closer to her, on my back looking across up her face. "So what did you think of our discussion today morning?" I ask as if she's my wife and we're having adult family discussion at the end of the day.

She turns her head irritated staring down at me, "What about that? I already told you not to talk about it again to me, didn't I?" she asks irritated.

"Well yes, that's because you're afraid of the tradition and stuff you know?" I say throwing an arrow in the dark.

"Tradition, culture, look at it in any possible way, why would I want to do this when I'm close to my 50's?" She asks with a sigh.

"I don't know, maybe you love to feel younger? Just like any other woman? And what's wrong in having a physical relationship with someone else in your phase of life?" I ask looking up at her face.

"I am married, and I don't even want to talk about such stuff let alone doing them." She says sternly and all I can see is her love for my dad in that statement. But I'm too deep into this to feel guilty now anyway.

"Well, you were. You were married and you're not anymore, and it's not like you're cheating on dad if you marry again right?" I say with a shrug.

"What? Why are we even talking about this? And what happened to you since a few months? This is weird. The whole thing happening between us, you know..." she says raising up her defences again.

"Oh come on mom, wrong in which perspective? Societal perspective? No one from that society was with you when dad died and none of them was there with you when you were feeling pain in your breasts..." I say a bit dramatically.

She goes calm for a moment, "Whatever, I'm feeling sleepy, and I don't know where you're getting these thoughts, but don't think about them again." She says sliding her blanket up and turning off the lights again.

She seems to be thinking about this a bit from today morning, or maybe I'm feeling victorious too early. Later the midnight, when I can hear her deep snoring, I slowly slide closer again, and this time, my hand directly goes on her butt and her waist curves, above her hand instead of beneath her hand. I feel like touch is all she need to lower her defences and I'm gonna give it a deeper try every night irrespective of her consent as she technically can't show her consent in sleep anyway.

I start to touch and gently press her erogenous parts, butt, waist, thighs, neck, but not all at once obviously and I start to blow warm air by her ears and neck, instead of smooching and making things worse like yesterday. Fortunately she didn't wake up, but her body starts to react a bit positively to the touches. She moans slightly in her sleep and snuggles into her sheet, constantly moving her body and the more I do it, the more she lets me do it by taking her hands off of her body.

The next noon, we decide to go to shopping and I used to get bored with women's shopping as they search in 10 shops, ends up buying 1 saree or maybe worse, 0. But today, this is a bit different, I get to spend some alone time with her in public as my sister isn't accompanying her anymore with the saree selection. After visiting a few shops, we're still going for more but she didn't buy any.

"Try this ma'am, this would look decent for occasions." The shopkeeper says trying to sell it.

"That makes her look a bit old, isn't there any newer models? Like the ones which the youth wears? More fashionable..." I try to take part in the shopping for the first time in my entire life, that too women's shopping as if I know anything in this.

My mom stares at me stunned as I say that, but doesn't say anything. The shopkeeper shows a few sarees without the sleeves, something which traditional women don't prefer to wear in India. After selecting 2 sarees, I tell him to pack the sleeveless one too, and this time my mom interrupts, already feeling a bit weird. "Why do you need a sleeveless saree for me?" she murmurs softly so that only I can hear.

"Eh you know, it'll make you look younger and sexier, like this generation women..." I whisper maintaining a smile.

"Shut up, stop saying such words in front of me." She says sternly but still maintaining her smile in front of the shopkeepers.

"Pack these three." I quickly trail away from her smiling at the salesman and she just closes her eyes angrily without saying anything.

Right after we reach home, she throws the bags on the couch fuming with anger looking at me, "what were you thinking by behaving like that in public? Why the hell do you want your mom to look sexy? And a sleeveless saree? Even Radha doesn't wear those and you want me to wear them?" She shouts at me.

"Oh come on, you're more beautiful than Radha and I'm sure you're feeling deep inside to try those too, just to look at yourself sexier in the mirror... And it's just the two of us, so why not try them at house? It's not like you're standing in politics wearing those sarees right?" I raise my voice a bit in return.

"You're delusional... for real Karthik." She sighs, grabbing the bags and throwing them in her room.

"I'm just trying to make you feel better and you're just worried about tradition and culture and society..." I say with a shrug going to my room.

We finish dinner as usual and get on the bed to sleep. "Come on, you don't need to be that angry at me just because I'm thinking of taking care of you..." I say breaking the ice.

"Karthik! Please... Can you just stop talking about such stuff?" she says exhausted and tired of this.

"You even stopped letting me drink your milk, you stopped talking normally to me..." I say furrowing my brows.

"Tomorrow is our anniversary, it's been 30 years since my marriage happened and I thought of being happy tomorrow and that's the reason I went for shopping and you're telling me to do what? To wear a skimpy sleeveless saree on me and your dad's anniversary and then? Find someone else to marry?" She tries to explain softly for one last time.

"You know? Dad would have wanted the same... Even Radha, I'm sure. If something makes you happy, like feeling younger, then obviously as a family, we feel like you should pursue that..." I try to become more dramatic. In the greed of horniness, I totally ignore all the shit I'm using to convince her, I'm not even sure if she actually wants to feel younger, but all I should do is to make her think of it now if she haven't earlier.

She goes silent, looking down at the bed, as if she never had this kind of discussion with dad when he was alive. Whether he would have wanted her to marry someone else after his death... "I don't know, and I don't want to talk about it... Just sleep." She says shutting me down but dilemmatic obviously.