When I was single, I was friends with a woman who was pregnant, but unmarried. Sherry and I used to have lunch and talk and go to movies together. Although I found her attractive in a maternal way, I never really thought about her romantically. She was attractive enough, though not a raving beauty. She was short and a little heavy, with wavy red hair, about shoulder-length. She dressed conservatively and seemed to really value our friendship.
I always felt she treated me like one of her girlfriends. She confided in me about the failed relationship that led to her pregnancy. We talked about everything. But rarely did our chats stray into the area of sex. I assumed that the pregnancy and her bad experience with the father had put her off it. Although I guessed she thought I was attractive, I never got any indication that she wanted more than a platonic friendship.
As her pregnancy progressed, she asked me to be her Lamaze partner. I balked at first, but then decided it would be a nice thing to do for my friend. The class was large and we met a number of other unwed mothers in various situations, some had coaches, some did not. I was used as the 'utility daddy' and actually got to enjoy helping the half dozen or so ladies who didn't have partners. Although I didn't actually participate in any births, other than Sherry's, I did become friends with these other ladies and several months after the classes ended, I was pleased to see the same faces at a neo-natal care class.
I was trying not to get too attached to Sherry and her baby. It was clear she didn't want anything more than a friend in me, and that was fine by me. Baby School, as we called it, covered the basics of immunizations and care during the first year. But what really interested me was breastfeeding. I know it may sound perverted, but I had always held a fascination for that! It is equal parts curiosity and arousal. It's such an intimate act, so associated with sex, but so pure and basic to life. It seemed to me that all of the women were specially compelled or motivated in this area. It was part of the motherhood experience that none of them wanted to miss.
I found myself awkwardly embarrassed to be present as the instructor, herself a nursing mother, spoke about it and began to demonstrate on herself with her own baby. I tried not to react at all as she, a tall stocky woman, unbuttoned her blouse, opened her nursing bra and revealed her small, pointed breasts, with large dark nipples. Her baby latched on with eagerness and a shiver seemed to go through her whole body. She had to stop speaking for a moment until the sensation eased. She closed her eyes and then seemed to return to the lecture in a serene euphoria. I noticed that each of the unmarried women sitting near me, including Sherry, gave a sympathetic sigh, as the teacher enjoyed the sensation. She explained about how to hold the baby and about nutrition and care of the nipples and pumping and storing milk. I was spellbound. I only hoped my eagerness for the subject wasn't noticable or off-putting to Sherry. We had such a special friendship that I didn't want my sexual interest to wreck it. After all, how does a horny young single man fit into the picture with a single mom, or moms, taking care of newborns?
Just before the class ended, the instructor handed out a list of attendees with addresses so that the ladies could organize support groups and later, playgroups. She mentioned that La Leche League endorsed setting up groups to encourage breastfeeding and to provide mother's milk to infants who had no other source. As the class broke up and the ladies I had coached and Sherry were busy setting up their group, I felt a little sad that my role in this had come to an end. I turned and headed for the door when I heard several of the women calling out my name. I turned.
"You're not quitting on us now, are you?" said one. The others chorused their agreement.
Sherry said, "Ladies, it's not fair for us mothers to ask any more from my friend. Steven's a single guy who was doing me a favor because he felt sorry for me. Why don't we let him get on with his social life?"
I saw genuine disappointment in the eyes of these ladies, whom I realised had become my friends over the course of weeks and months. I had been a small part of a very important life event for them. I knew their names, their stories. Now I knew their babies. They seemed to still want me to be there for them. I smilled and nodded. One by one the six ladies and Sherry gave me a hug and kiss on the cheek as we broke up until our first meeting at Sherry's, which was to be in a week.
As that week passed, I became aware that I was more than a little excited about seeing these women again and about the notion of them all breastfeeding with me there. I pictured each of them in my mind. None of them was the Baywatch babe of my dreams, they were all average-looking women who had just had babies. And yet I felt a sense of attraction to each of them in their own way.
The evening arrived and I was late getting to Sherry's. Her apartment was filled with ladies, each either holding her baby or rocking it in a carrier. The conversation only paused for a moment as I entered and greeted everyone with a wave. I put my coat on a bed in the back and went to the kitchen to get a drink. As I did I heard the ladies talking about their recent experiences.
" I do too. I wondered if I was the only one. When my baby really latches on, it's almost painful at first but then I get the warmest feeling from my breasts down to between my legs. It's really powerful."
"Me too. Sometimes I can't keep from touching myself a little."
"A little is all it takes to get me off," Sherry added with a laugh. And with her admission, all of the other ladies seemed relieved to confess that they, too, had felt a sexual tingle, from this most motherly of acts. I was practically shaking. I was afraid I would destroy the mood when I sat down on the arm of a chair at the back of the room.
"My baby doesn't seem to feed enough. I still have a lot of milk after she is done."
"Do you pump and save it?"
"I don't need to save it. I just want to empty out, so I will have more. I don't want to dry up."
"Oh, you won't dry up. But you do need to express all your milk to maximize production. Do you have a pump?"
"Oh, I hate those. The plastic is so hard and cold. I feel like Frankenstein's monster hooked up to that machine."
"Or a cow at milking time," added another. They all commiserated.
"My friend says her husband used to suckle after her baby was full."
There was a soft moan as the women all seemed to imagine a man doing that for them. I was trying so hard not smile or leer or do anything uncool.
"Well, it's not fair that Sherry has Steve to do that for her," the first woman complained half-seriously.
Sherry cleared her throat. "Steven hasn't done that for me. It's not like he's my property. He agreed to be here to support all of us. Not that he knew what he was in for."
The mother who had complained about having so much milk leftover after feedings looked up at me. She was in genuine need. She had placed her baby in the carrier and was rocking it with a foot as it sat on the floor by her chair.
"Steven, would you help me, please?" She was so sincere. And as sexually charged as the situation was, her plea was earnest.
All eyes were on me. I looked at this woman, average enough looking, but with that aura of motherhood that softened her features and almost made her face glow. I looked at her sweater and blouse, both unbuttoned and hanging loose. I had glimpsed a big white nursing bra earlier as her baby had fed. I put my drink down and wondered if the ladies could see me shaking as I slowly stood and moved to her. She shifted to sit at the edge of her chair. One foot still rocked the carrier in which her child slept. As I knelt in front of her, the overhead light was switched off. I looked up to see Sherry closing the curtains and making the room more private, more intimate.
I was unsure of what to do. I didn't want to be too aggressive. But I was so excited. I slowly reached up to push back her sweater and blouse. She reached in and folded back the flap of the nursing bra, revealing a big dark brownish-pink nipple atop an equally dark aureole. Although only this portion of her breast was exposed to me, I could see the large soft orb cradled in the cup. A tracery of light blue veins seems to converge at the nipple. Instinctively, I leaned down to capture the dark bud between my lips. A sweet warm drop of milk wet my lips.
I struggled to find a comfortable angle, without success. I pulled back for a moment and saw the other women transfixed by the sight of us. Wordlessly, she and I moved to the sofa.
Another woman attended the sleeping baby in the carrier. She sat on one end of the sofa and reached behind her to unhook the nursing bra. I lay across her lap, my head at her breasts. As I began to suckle, I could feel the tingle go through both her and me. I was aware of the other ladies shifting around to watch. Someone sat next to me, resting my legs across her lap. I closed my eyes and gently, but firmly pumped my mouth on her dark nipple. I felt a torrent of mother's milk rush into my mouth. I moaned and she did too and I developed a rhythm of sucking and swallowing. After a time the flow of milk decreased. The formerly full breast seemed less tight and full.
She removed the nipple from my mouth and shifted the other into place and I began again. This time I sucked with gusto, drawing the tit deeply into my mouth. I repeated this action and felt her shifting her hips and rubbing her thighs together. I recognized the signs. Sure enough, as I continued to feed, she rocked back and then forward and then shook while groaning in my ear. I clamped down hard on the teat and she cried out a low shuddering moan. It continued for almost a minute. By the time her cries died out, I had emptied her breast. She breathed deeply and leaned back. I released her teat from my lips and only then became aware that the lady sitting next to me had been gently stroking my erection through my jeans. I sat up, dazed. I wasn't sure if I had just violated a sacred trust. I was about to apologize, not knowing how to explain what I had just done.
"Thank you so much. You have no idea how much I needed that. I hope you didn't mind. That felt so incredible. You are amazing." She was talking to me. She was not put off or disgusted. She was grateful. She was almost crying. I guess I had done something for her that she needed badly. As she pulled herself together, re-hooking her bra and buttoning her blouse, she kissed my cheek softly and stood and went to her baby, still fast asleep in its carrier. She was almost in a dream-state, smiling like the Mona Lisa. Another woman stood and took her place on the sofa, gently lowering my head to her lap. I was stunned as she began to lift her sweater.
The rest of the evening was like a dream come true for me. As each lady took her place on the sofa to feed me, I was impressed by the peaceful serene sensuality with which their hands would cradle my head and their eyes would close and they would enter a trance-like state. Not all of them reached a climax as had the first, but each seemed completely fulfilled by the experience and each was equally loving and gentle to me. Even as Sherry remained at my feet, stroking my stiffness through my jeans, a growing wet spot betraying my carnal excitement, none of the ladies reacted with other than serene pleasure that I was enjoying this as much as they were. It's hard to explain how natural it felt to do this. At the same time I was retreating to infancy and enjoying my surrogate mothering by this variety of women, younger, older, larger, smaller, I felt an aching need to prenetrate, to fuck, and to come. It built slowly and it seemed to balance with my need to suckle and be babied.
After what seemed like hours, the last of the ladies had unburdened themselves of the heavy load of sweet mother's milk. I was in a state of euphoria. I looked down and saw Sherry, undoing my jeans. She worked them down and pulled my boxers down after them. She stroked my hardon gently. It was damp with my secretions, so her hand slid up and down effortlessly. I closed my eyes and when I opened them the ladies had gathered around to watch. Each leaned in and took a turn stroking me. One or two of them lowered their lips to kiss the head or to suck my entirety down. But it was all done with such unhurried grace. And as each would administer to me, she would softly thank me for easing their discomfort, for being there. I was building to a huge climax. Finally, Sherry, the only one who had not fed me, knelt over me. She undid her top and pushed a thick nipple between my lips.
"Enjoy this, big baby. Taste, suck, feed. Feel good just as you have made us all feel so good. Our, big baby."
Hearing those words triggered something deep inside me. I buried my head in her full bosom and sucked and licked and fed. I don't know whose hands were on me, but they were hitting all the right spots. I didn't move my face from its warm bosomy embrace, but I felt a wave of pleasure rock me, and my own manjuice rained down on my chest and belly. I could only imagine the great arcing jets of thick white cum that coursed out again and again. I heard a gasp and moan from the ladies standing by. As I reached the end of my pleasure, Sherry leaned back away from me. I was dazed. Looking down at the mess on my chest, I saw each of the ladies lean down to lick and suck and gobble up my cum, until Sherry finished the job licking me clean.
"When will we meet next, ladies?"
"How about tomorrow at my place!"