Milk Donation

He slumped when he got to acceptance. "I suppose it was too good to last," he said, glumly.

"It was great while it did last, right?"

He nodded. "I only wish I'd known that yesterday was the last time. I guess that's kind of a cliche."

"I wish I'd known too, in a way, but I'm also not sure what we could have done differently. I still have it all committed to memory," she said, trying lamely to cheer him up.

At that, his face coloured, and she cried, "Ahhhh, I got you, you've got it memorized too, right?"

He nodded again, sheepishly.

"You know that I only want what's best for us both, yeah?"

Yet another nod. She understood why he wasn't very talkative. "Do you want to watch some TV with me?" He wouldn't, but she offered anyway.

"No, I'll go do some studying. Finals are coming up."

"Sure. Let me know when you're ready for dinner, okay? I'll be here."

And that was it. She'd cut the cord, stopped the decay of their moral fiber, yadda yadda. The lizard brain was just sad, but her actual brain knew it was a good thing.

***

Adam spent a week pouting. He knew he was pouting, but couldn't snap out of it. His mom was understanding and gave him space, which probably helped the most. The other help was that he did need to focus on his schoolwork to pass his finals, and so he buried himself in that when he wasn't jerking off to memories of his mom on his lap.

Jimmy and Jake noticed his mood, and thankfully didn't press him much. Jake tried a lame mom joke on the first day, but Adam's expression must have warned him away.

There were some fun moments at school, in between studying and missing his sessions with his mom. At one point he started to compare the busts of the girls and teachers against his mom's, trying to judge if they were as good. Everyone came up short, but it was interesting trying to come up with a mental image based on clothing.

Life at home was fine. Adam and his mom went about their normal routines, with the added solo sessions in her room to pump. He did his best not to check out her progress, but he was intensely interested in how her breasts would develop as their milk production increased. To his surprise, they didn't seem to change that much at all. Was a week not enough time to build up more milk?

One day Adam was finishing up schoolwork in his room when he heard his mom come home. That was unusual, as she didn't make a ton of noise. Today was very similar to that of several weeks ago, as she slammed the front door. Uh oh.

He sat and listened, trying to judge where she ended up. The noise of her passage went into the kitchen, bags slammed down, footsteps passing his room, drawers slamming in her bedroom, then more thumps as she walked past his room again.

She was in a mood.

After 10 minutes of silence, Adam figured he'd try to test the waters. It never hurts to offer help.

He found her in the living room, sitting in the dark.

"Mom?" he tried, quietly.

"It's not working." Her voice was firm, matter-of-fact.

"Uh, what's not working? The pumping?" It was the only current event that she could talk about without a preamble, so he took a stab.

"I pump 4 times a day, and all I can get is a little dribble. I hate that fucking pump."

Despite being a bit shocked at her language, Adam was on solid ground now. "Sorry to hear that. I know you've been working hard. Not getting results can be frustrating."

Adam had spent some time online reading up on empathetic statements, and was pretty proud of that one.

Silence.

"It is frustrating," she whimpered, and then her head was bowed in her hands, and he could hear her sobs. He sat down next to her and pulled her to him, and she sank into his chest. He held her while she cried, wondering what he could do to help.

He snorted to himself.

Oops.

His mom lifted her head up and looked at him suspiciously. "What's so funny?" she asked.

"Um, nothing. I just thought of something. Sorry, it's not about you. It's me."

"What about you?" she asked, and sat up, wiping her eyes with her hands.

"Heh, well, just laughing at how dumb I can be. I was sitting here holding you, doing my best to come up with a solution for your sadness, so I can fix it."

She smiled and thankfully didn't look mad. "You did it in the right order. Empathy first, then help if it's required. I'm not sure if you can help. I think it's just me. I'm broken." This was said sadly.

"Oh, hell no, you're not broken. Did you not get any more increases at all with the pumping? Maybe a different pump would help?"

"Not only did I not get an increase, I've actually regressed. Now I'm not getting anything. I feel stupid day after day with that damn thing on my boobs and nothing to show for it. I'm pretty sure I'm just going to give up."

Now Adam was truly lost. Did he support her giving up? Or push her to continue? Maybe it really wasn't in the cards for her to lactate again.

"Did Ellen not give any other options? Medication? Anything?"

His mom waved her hand to dismiss his line of inquiry. "She said there are drugs, but I don't want that. She also said I can just get pregnant again, and I told her that wasn't happening."

Adam blinked his eyes slowly, an image of his mom pregnant with a big belly and full tits swimming in front of him. He shook his head. "Yeah that seems a bit drastic. 'Hey, I need to get knocked up so I can donate milk.'"

His mom laughed and he felt his chest ease to see her happy again. "That can be my tinder profile: 'Stud needed to breed MILF to get the MILK flowing.'"

They both laughed. Adam thought he deserved an Oscar for not betraying the fact that he had a hardon and a rapidly beating heart.

"Thank you, son. I'll be fine. I just need to put this whole lactating thing behind me and move onto something else to fill the hole you're going to leave behind."

She leaned in and gave him a hug, which he returned with interest, glad the couch kept his waist bent to hide his hard dick.

After the hug, Adam had to try at least once, or he'd never forgive himself. "Do... you want to try the other way again? I'll behave, I promise!" He attempted to get in front of her objections, and the effort at least made her pause.

A pause where her face filled with skepticism. "If it was just you, I'm sure that something could be worked out, but it's not. I really can't trust myself, is the issue," she said.

What could he say to a confession like that? It was incredibly flattering and revealing and turned him on like nothing else. Knowing someone you were attracted to couldn't keep their hands off of you was the ultimate aphrodisiac.

He gallantly pushed on. "Maybe we can keep our bodies separated? Put pillows everywhere? Tie our hands?" At that suggestion his mom's eyebrows rose several inches. He backtracked, "Maybe not that one. But there's got to be something we can do."

He cursed the desperation evident in his voice.

After a minute of just looking at him, his mom said, "You really want this, don't you?"

"Of course! Who wouldn't?"

"But, I'm your mother. I'm old! I might never make milk again, and we'd just be wasting our time."

The thought of sucking on his mom's boobs for months didn't seem like wasted time.

"I'm sure you can do it. You almost got there, right? We just need to motivate you again, get your at-home support going, and get those babies making milk!"

"You mean, 'make some milk for babies', right?"

"Yeah, that's what I meant. What did I say?"

She smiled and said, "It doesn't matter. Let's say I'm willing to give this another try. Can I rely on you to behave? And more importantly, can I rely on you to ensure I behave?"

The thought of stopping his mom from doing anything was ridiculous, but he'd promise anything to get his lips wrapped around her luscious nipples again. He nodded. "Absolutely!"

The look she gave him was full of amused suspicion, but she nodded anyway. "Okay. Tonight, we'll start back on the Adam regime. But no funny business for either of us, right?"

"Right." He hoped.

***

They went at it for a week. A week of chaste oral nipple manipulation for the purposes of inducing lactation. A week of wet panties and hard nipples. A week of fingers on her puss, and a dildo up her twat. Mary did everything she could to keep her lizard brain at bay and keep the arrangement with Adam 'professional'.

It worked. They kept to their sessions, her on his lap on the couch to not hurt his neck, but also not sitting directly on him. No hands, no extra mouths, just wham, suck, thank you Adam. A few times she let her hand stray and he would gently move it off him. She admired his efforts.

Unfortunately, the renewed sessions didn't work. Her milk didn't increase one iota.

Adam was nearing his finals now and had warned her that he would need more time to focus. Their sessions became more and more 'dry', and business-like. In no way did it even come close to the connection she'd felt the first time around, and after a week she came to the conclusion that that was the issue.

But how do you bring that up, when business-like was the requirement for them to keep themselves contained? 'I need more passion, but also, not any more passion.' It didn't work.

Eventually Mary had to steel herself to the realization that she needed that bond with him in order to produce breast milk, but couldn't bring herself to cross that boundary. It wouldn't ever stop. She wouldn't want it to stop.

Her motivation was gone, one of the two key foundations to inducing lactation. Somewhere along the way it had morphed from helping the children, to connecting with her son. She didn't want the milk if there was no connection. In her examinations of her motives, she had missed that key piece. It only felt good when he was doing it, for real.

Mary vainly tried to keep it going for another day after her revelation, but had to come clean when it was plain her heart wasn't in it with such clinical application of her son's mouth. He may as well have been the pump.

The next session, when she came into the living room and saw him sitting on the couch, waiting for her, she sat down next to him instead.

"So, there's been no improvement," she started. "And I don't see it changing any time soon. Something in the way I felt the first time you were helping me was different. You're doing a great job, no complaints, but I think it's time to call it."

Adam was no dummy, he wasn't surprised. "Yeah, I kind of thought this was where we were headed."

"Yeah. We did our best, but sometimes you have to just read the writing on the wall."

"Sure, I understand."

They sat in silence for a while, both lost in their thoughts, until he said, "What will you do to fill the void I leave behind now?" The cheeky grin on his face lightened the mood.

"You jerk," she said, laughing. "Maybe I'll get a bathing suit, and when I'm lonely I'll soak it and put it on."

His eyes almost crossed trying to figure out what she meant, which made her giggle.

"A bathing suit?" he said, finally, plaintively.

"Yeah, a soaked bathing suit always gets me wet."

Immediately after the words came out, she knew it was a mistake. They had avoided any talk over the last week of being aroused, or showing any sign of non-lactation feelings. Not that it meant there weren't any, but they didn't show it. Mary could see the astonishment on her son's face.

"I've done a good job of keeping us on point, haven't I?" he asked.

"You really have. I have no complaints."

"Then you'll forgive me for saying that I think one more try, the old way, is worth it. I can keep us on track."

The old way. What was the old way? In her bed? "What's the old way?"

To answer her, he reached for her hand, and when she gave it, he pulled at her, urging her to straddle him again. This time he put his hands on her hips and held her, immediately igniting a fire in her middle. He then simply waited. Slowly catching on, Mary took her shirt off, and then her bra. She had been topless many times in the last week. So many times. But this was the first time it felt different.

She made to sit up, and put her breast near his mouth, but he held her hips down, keeping her on his lap. He pulled, and she followed, and she found herself pressed up against a bulge.

"Oh, Adam," she started, but he interrupted.

"It's fine, just trust me."

She did trust him, and leaned forward. He looked up at her as he took her nipple in his mouth. She was so invested in what he was doing that she almost missed the subtle thrust of his hips up into her. Almost. The wave of gooey warmth that spread from her pussy took her mind off of what he was doing with this mouth, until she felt his tongue on her nipple.

This wasn't the normal suckling, the chaste, matter-of-fact suction to induce lactation. This was playful, teasing, caressing with wet flesh. Mary groaned at the assault on her senses, feeling her body respond instantly. She ground her pelvis on his lap, feeling his lump rub across her cloth-clad pussy.

"Adam," she started again, and was interrupted again.

"Just go with it," he said, pulling his mouth from her tit briefly.

Just go with it. As she writhed on his lap, grinding on his cock, she melted into the thought of just going with it. Going with everything. She trusted Adam, and he had it under control. Time to let herself go...

Mother and son sat together, genitals rubbing and rolling, while he suckled. Mary's mind fuzzed and she concentrated on the feel of his mouth, and his tongue, his body under hers, his hands urging her to keep moving when she slowed down.

Several minutes later, she felt the sensation of her breast letting down, milk flowing from her into his mouth. He was magic. After weeks of regression, she was back on track to making milk. It was all thanks to her connection to him; the joy she got at feeding him, sure, but also the full body buzz of arousal she got.

Adam suckled at her teat longer than was necessary, but she didn't mind. She'd let herself go, and was lost in the feel of their bodies connected. She wished she could feel his bare chest, like the first time they'd been on the couch like this, but she trusted his instincts. Her hands were in his hair and on his shoulder, bracing herself and his head. He continued to hold her hips, helping her grind.

He swapped to her other tit, and then she was feeding him again, the pulsing rhythm of his suckling sending matching shivers of lust to her pussy as she rode him. They were in sync, and it drove her higher and higher.

As her milk ran out, all too soon, Mary couldn't help but come on his lap. It was wrong, it couldn't end well, but it was working. She shuddered there on him, her hips vibrating, trying to elicit more pleasure from the mound in his pants. As her contractions slowed down, she looked down at her son, who was just sitting and watching her.

"Oh, Adam, what are we doing?" she whispered.

"Making milk," he said.

She didn't get off of him, and he didn't remove his hands from her hips. They just sat there a bit, staring at each other. In the aftermath of her orgasm, she wanted to return the favour, or hug him, or kiss him. As she leaned in, she watched Adam's eyes flicker over her face, focusing on her mouth. An ache started to rekindle in her middle and her heart thumped hard in her chest as she made contact with his lips.

His mouth was warm, soft, and tentative. It was almost a chaste kiss, but not quite. When he didn't pull back, she let her lips move, opening them slightly. He responded in kind, and their mouths were moving. The connection they had just shared added an entire blazing hot dimension of lust to the kiss, and she wanted more. Mary let her tongue slip out, tasting him for the first time. His lips were sweet, but the tongue that darted out to meet hers was even sweeter.

She was tasting her own milk in someone else's mouth again, and the memory of it came rushing back. How Ian would kiss her after he sucked at her. More cried her lizard brain, and she shoved her tongue between his lips, her own flavour washing over her taste buds.

Mary moaned into her son's mouth, and he moaned back. She hugged him close with both arms, and felt him do the same. The rekindled blaze of lust in her middle was spreading, tingling sparks bouncing to her favourite spots. Her hips started moving again, trying to get as much of his imprisoned manhood on her cloth-confined pussy as she could. She felt 18 years younger, her body flooded with hormones, wanting to fuck anything that had a cock.

Her brain tried to stop her, to send up signal flares of warning, but she ignored it all. Thankfully, Adam didn't ignore his own warnings, or the promise he'd made to keep them in line. He retreated from her, leaving her mouth open, panting. Her nipples were rigid, pressing against him, droplets of milk seeping from them.

"I guess we should save it for our next session," he said.

Mary nodded, but part of her felt cheated. Like he shouldn't be able to show such restraint when obviously worked up. She couldn't do it, why could he?

"How do you do it? I lose all willpower when I get started, but you're able to stop... how?"

The look he gave her almost made her laugh. If any expression could contain all of the world's incredulity, he had done it. "You said we had to behave, and so I'm behaving." He pushed up a little with his hips. "Not to be too forward, but it's pretty obvious I'm raring to go."

Mary realized the world had moved on from when she was his age. They had taken their cues from body language and actions, not necessarily words. It could lead to some wonderful stuff, but also a whole lot of bad stuff. This new generation was careful about consent, and she applauded it, but that meant she had to say with words what she wanted to happen, instead of it just happening.

"So, if I were to say that I wanted to keep kissing you, even after my milk is drained, would you do it?"

He nodded quickly. She tingled at the thought.

"And if I were to say that my clothes are too constricting when I'm on your lap, but that we shouldn't do anything more if I take them off, you'd respect that?"

She giggled at the expression that flickered across his face as he nodded. It was a grimace of pain. The poor boy would listen to his momma, but would leave the room with the worst case of blue balls. He nodded slower this time.

"And if I said that your clothes were chafing me when I sit on you, and you had to go naked for my comfort, but we had to behave ourselves, you'd listen?"

"Now I think you're teasing me."

"Maybe a little."

Her inner tension eased, her mind woke up, and she became aware of how close she'd come to listening to her inner selfishness. Her loins were molten still, and she could feel her damp panties as she rolled off of Adam's lap. She sat next to him and grabbed his hand, holding it.

"I'm sorry for being this way. All over the place. You've been such a help, and here I am teasing you and working you up and putting on the brakes and saying 'no' but acting 'yes'."

"Honestly, Mom, I am getting something out of this too, you know." He pulled on her hand, getting her to face him. "I love helping you, I really do. I think I have a fetish or something. But also, I want you to be happy, and I think that helping others will do that. Whatever it takes to get your milk flowing at maximum speed, I'll do it. Even if it means some discomfort."

"I could help you with that," she said, looking down briefly.

"And you won't be tempted to do more?"

Mary didn't even need a millisecond to know what the answer to that was. She looked away from him.

"What if I was okay with doing more?" she asked in a mere whisper. She couldn't hear the words over her own booming heartbeat, so was sure he'd miss them. Did teenagers have superhuman hearing?