Mother and Son

A mother's thoughts while intimately nursing her son.

Author's Note: contains incest and lactation. Don't read if you object to that. All characters are 18+.

This is an older story that I'm not very satisfied with but might as well upload.

Mother and Son

Bras are such complicated things to men. I was proud of you for knowing how to undo one. You've become so proficient in revealing my pale breasts that I never had to do it myself when I was with you. Whether it was a regular bra or a nursing bra, tingles went up my spine as if it was the first time when you uncovered my nipples.

Tonight I felt extra tingly as you peeled back the cups of my nursing bra, freeing my engorged tits.

There, that's a good boy. I know you're hungry, you need to eat!

You were still hot from your run and dripping with sweat. I inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of your wet hair as beads of sweat fell onto my exposed chest. Your scent was so masculine, so intoxicating. I wondered how all those women you see every day could keep their hands off of you.

Lucky for me, I have you all to myself.

We briefly locked eyes and without a word, I guided your head down into my right breast. Milk was already leaking out in anticipation. The moment your lips connected with my nipple, I inhaled sharply. They craved nothing more than a warm mouth to milk them.

Your tongue brushed up against the fat nub, twirling around it as it began to leak more rapidly. I begged silently for you to stop teasing me so cruelly. After what felt like an eternity, your flirting tongue pressed into my breast and you latched on.

Mmmmm.

As you began to suckle, I felt nothing but relief and pleasure. Pure bliss. I had been getting so full before you got home these past few days. I had to pump even more to stave off the pain, but I always made sure to leave enough to quench your thirst.

After all, you loved to drown in my milk.

I felt your forehead, still burning to the touch. It was a hot summer day out. Fortunately, the fan was blowing on both of us as we embraced. Soon you would cool down. Then my warm milk would be even more refreshing.

I ran my fingers through your hair as you suckled, and pulled you deeper into my titflesh. Your nose pressed into my bosom, further adding to the pressure squeezing milk out. Ounce after sweet ounce of cream flowed from my breasts to your stomach.

I've got so much milk for you, baby. Drink up you hungry boy. Drink mommy's milk.

As you suckled you rested on your side, your weight pressing down on my thighs and my stomach. Then you switched positions and opted to lie parallel to me as you suckled my heaving tit from the side. You moved without losing the latch once. It was then that I felt your throbbing cock press into my leg.

Oh it was so stiff.

Your jeans could barely contain it.

Like a good mother, I decided to help you with it. As I often did. After all, it was paining you as dearly as my engorged breasts hurt me. One must always reciprocate.

With a quick unbuttoning and a tug of the zipper, your cock popped out like a spring. It peeked out an inch or two from your boxers, already dripping little globs of precum onto the sheets.

We were always so messy!

My right hand closed in on your hard dick while my left massaged your back. Your eyes were closed. Your face remained buried in my chest. I rested my head against your own as I began to tug.

It was an awkward position, but I was no amateur when it came to stroking your member. As my fingers traveled up and down your shaft, precum began to coat it, lubricating it and speeding up my motions. I loved when my fingers brushed over the thick veins on your cock.

You were looking so much like your father. For years, friends and family had asked me why I never remarried. They could not understand what compelled me to remain single.

How could I?

You were my most loyal companion in the world. My best friend. My only child. My passionate lover. My lover of milk.

So creamy, so fatty, so nutritious. You never get sick. You are the strongest out of any of your friends. I can feel my life-giving milk flowing into you, making you stronger with every sip.

This ritual, this relationship has become the defining ane central pillar of my life. Just as a fish could not live without water, I could not picture life without you at my breasts.

Your suckling became more forceful as you neared your climax. I loved to bring you to completion and always obliged. Whether it was here in bed or out on the couch or during a covert nursing session in the bathroom of a friend's house. Few things could measure up to the satisfaction of knowing I've eased the pain in your aching balls.

Finally you came. Fat rope after rope shot out of your dick as it spasmed. My left thigh became coated in a thick layer of hot semen. It ran down as gravity dragged it onto the bed sheets. Still, a thin film remained, which I sampled with my fingers after releasing your semi-hard dick.

Salty and manly.

I pressed down on my left breast to help the flow of cream into your mouth. It was softening up, a sign that you had nearly drained it. A few more minutes and it would be empty, but only for a time. The breast, deflated and sagging, would once again be inflated with hot, sloshing milk.

Like any nursing mother my breasts had increased in size. In fact, my tits kept growing and growing. For far longer than they should have. You made sure of that.

Poor things probably thought I was feeding an army.

Lower and lower they sagged every day, and fuller they grew with milk. They engorged themselves with fat and breast tissue. I couldn't fit into a single one of the bras I wore before I became pregnant with you. Not a single one. Not even if I pumped myself dry.

It wasn't that my tits would overflow the cups like a muffin top; there was simply no way to restrain any part of them in such a tiny bra.

I admired your deft hands as they worked on my heavy, overinflated breasts. Your fingers traced the bright blue veins as you suckled, distended from the pale flesh. With massages, you coaxed more milk to the surface and into your hungry mouth. It sent waves of pleasure throughout my body. Your warm, grasping, caressing hands kneaded my milky flesh.

Oh it was too much for me.

I reached my right hand, the same that had just tugged you off and sampled your cum, into my pajamas. The damp fabric was clinging to my wet cunt before my fingers separated them. I felt rising heat in my hips as my folds tingled.

There was practically zero friction. I was a slick surface. My fingers deftly maneuvered my womanly parts. A place I've been exploring even longer than I've been learning your dick. My clit was as hard as your cock had been and my fingers made sure that it was attended to.

I finally felt the pressure in my left breast begin to subside entirely. You'd drained that udder dry. I planted a kiss on your head as you released the slippery wet nipple from your lips for the first time in ten minutes. The breast was a flattened pancake compared to my right, even rounder and more engorged than it was when you got home.

You gave my rubbery wet nipple one last squeeze with your fingers to confirm it's emptiness. You draining me always sent such a rush through me. It was so satisfying. You leaned in to plant a kiss of your own on my forehead before straddling me as you shifted to lay next to my right side.

Your drooping cock rubbed up against my stomach and legs when you repositioned. Knowing what was coming, my right nipple dribbled. The throbbing nipple sputtered once your warm tongue made contact. Instead of latching on, you began to squeeze the base of my breast with your hands.

You always loved to play with the second one.

A few thin streams of milk ran down my breast and onto my stomach as they followed the path of least resistance. The first squeeze or two never did give all that much. However, your next squeeze resulted in a geyser of milk.

Six or seven thick white streams of cream shot out of the tiny pinholes atop my nipple. It arced five or six inches in the air before falling and splattering on my chest. You continued to massage and grope while my fountainous breast spewed milk into the air.

The sight of my own milk always turned me on. It was a reminder of what a good mother I was. In a moment, I reached my own climax. My hips burned and raised off the bed, pressing into my hands. After a few seconds of euphoria, my mind returned and my firm butt made contact with the bed again.

Such sweet relief.

I returned my attention to you as you continued to play with my fat teat. My fingers crept under your shirt to feel your strong chest. The muscles barely contained under your youthful and tanned skin. Such a perfect boy, such a perfect son.

Soon you were satisfied with your playing. A thin film of milk now coated my entire chest and stomach, and the sheets to my side were now soaked. Your mouth latched onto the teat and began to suckle just as before.

You have such an endless thirst for my milk. With how unending my supply appeared, we were a perfect match. With each gulp you drained me of so much fluid. In a minute, you emptied me of what some women might produce in ten.

I loved feeding you.

So much.

Halfway through the supply, my breast began to feel heavy and tight. I was having a letdown. They are sheer orgasmic bliss. Milk shot into your mouth at an almost overwhelming rate. You struggled to keep up with your swallowing as my milk threatened to choke you. The whole time I was shaking and writhing with pleasure.

Breast orgasms were my favorite kind. A real full-body experience that even made my pussy quiver. My letdowns were so powerful and so fierce that even my empty left breast began to intermittently shoot droplets of milk into the air.

All I could hear was my moaning and your frequent swallowing. After a small eternity, I began to come down off my high. My fingers crept up and down your back, clutching at you as your face dived deeper into my tit.

In another couple of minutes the tit was dry. My chest was flattened, drooping over my sides as straggler drops dribbled out here and there. I could already feel the left beginning to fill again. Frothing, bubbling milk being ushered into existence from deep in my flesh.

Your next meal.

Until then, however, I was empty enough. We did a quick bit of clean-up. You laid down next to me, and we both put our arms around each other. You turned the TV on and we both faded away into a nap before long.

It was always easy for me to sleep when I knew that in a few hours you would once again be drinking from your mother's breasts.