Date: Wed, 17 Jan 2024 00:01:00 -0800
From: Hey All <heyallstories@gmail.com>
Subject: Lactating Sister (lesbian, incest)

"Lactating Sister" by HeyAll


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***


~~~ Present Day 2018 ~~~


This is the story of the supernatural, breasts that go beyond what nature
had intended, and incest between loving sisters.  This also serves as the
basis for a potential memoir, which I'll publish under a pseudonym for
reasons that will soon become clear.


My name is Dr. Hartford and I'm the mother of two wonderful daughters.
I'm also a medical researcher.  I'm an endocrinologist, which means I
diagnose and treat disorders relating to hormones.  The exact details of
that aren't important, but it's relevant to my story.


Below are my journal entries that I'd written at night after important
events had happened.  I write in present tense because it gives a sense
of immediacy.  It also helps me relive my memories.  As you'll soon
understand, we were once a normal, everyday American family.  None of
this was ever planned.  None of this was ever my intention.  Had I known
this would happen, I would have pursued a different career.


~~~ 1992 ~~~


My youngest daughter is waiting for me when I arrive home.  I put my
things down on the counter, my stack of folders and a handbag.  I'm a
research professor and Valerie plans on following my footsteps.  At 18
she's like a younger version of myself, academic-minded and curious
about life.  She has an adorable look, with rounded facial features, a
feminine style, and bangs with shoulder length hair.


It always touches my heart whenever she waits for me, which she often
does, because I admire her innocence.  Today she isn't smiling as she
guides me to the dining room, where her bra is placed on the table for
some inexplicable reason.


"Can we talk?" she asks.


"Sure, of course."

We sit across from each other, her face looking melancholy, confused, and
she doesn't mention why her bra is there.  She takes a moment to think,
always the thoughtful girl, always precise with her words.


"I went into your room last week, maybe two weeks ago.  On your
glass-door cabinet you have this rock labeled, `The Island' and it
intrigued me.  So I opened the case and looked at the rock.   And this
morning..."

"You had milk?"


She nods.  "How did you know?"


Right away I understand what's happening.  In truth, the rock never
should have been there.  It should be in a laboratory for further
research, or perhaps a museum, but not in my home.  It's my fault.  I
should have known a girl like Valerie would look through my things
whenever she's bored.  My work fascinates her.


I hold her hand.  "This stays between us, okay?"

"Yes, okay."


With my daughter's full attention, I start to explain everything.


-- In the summer of 1976 a meteor crashed within Colombia's island
territory.  Weeks later, many of the adult women began to lactate, even
the ones who'd never given birth before.


-- The government sought help from American researchers and the
university where I worked expressed interest in the matter. I was an
assistant to Dr. Patel and was thrilled to follow her anywhere. We
traveled to the island and spent a week collecting samples.  Dr. Patel's
main focus was the meteorite pieces, while I was in charge of the breast
milk samples.


-- Officially the results were inconclusive.  It was never solved.

-- What I don't tell my daughter, however, was that many of the women
were secretly nursing each other.  Younger women sucked on the breasts of
older women as a sign of respect.  It gave them immense sexual pleasure,
to suck, to be sucked, and to share their newfound milk.  They saw it as
a gift from the fertility gods.


-- I also neglect to mention that Dr. Patel had experienced the same
mysterious condition.  Dr. Patel wasn't scared of it.  It intrigued
her.  She had even joined the local women in their nursing
relationships.


-- At one point Dr. Patel offered her dark nipples to me.  I declined. To
this day, I sometimes think about what would have happened if I had
accepted.  If I had the courage to nurse.


-- That was why the report was never finished or made public, because Dr.
Patel refused to have endless tests performed on her breasts.  And she
felt a sacred obligation to protect those women.  I'd since lost contact
with Dr. Patel after I transferred to another university to pursue my
current teaching job.


After giving the sanitized version of the story, my daughter sits there
in wonder.


"You think that's happening with me?" she asks.


"It's impossible to say without further testing.  We haven't
established that it's even milk.  It could be discharge of some kind."

"Believe me, it's milk."

"How are you sure?"

"The color," she says.  "The taste.  Texture.  It has all the
qualities of breast milk."

Valerie is smart and sophisticated for her age.  She also used to be a
sitter for her cousins, so she has a baseline experience with breast milk
after learning how to use a milk bottle.  I inspect the bra on the table,
there are wet spots around the front of the cups.


"May I see it?"

Her eyes widen, then she calms down.  I'd seen glimpses of her breasts
before during fittings.  The most recent time was helping with her prom
dress.


"Okay, sure."


She pulls her tshirt overhead to reveal her soft white body.  Her bra is
white, breasts a medium size.  Her face has an even expression as she
prepares to reveal herself to me.  She's always been an even-minded
girl, she only ever gets loose when she's around her older sister, who
has a rebellious heart.


When she reaches back to unclasp her bra, the bare breasts are exposed.
They're soft, round globes, and they hang almost like small balloons.
Not as perky as other girls her age.  Most noticeably, one breast is
naturally larger than the other, which has always been the case.  The
nipples themselves are tiny but the areolas are wide.  Bright pink.  Some
of the pinkest nipples I've ever seen.  Valerie sits there with her
chest pushed forward.  She isn't the least bit embarrassed about her
breasts, it's the milk that's the issue.


I get up and stand beside her, wanting to hug her, but there's work to
be done.  I cup the bottom of her right breast with my gentle touch.  Her
breast is so soft, so round, so warm, it fits right in my palm.  Then I
squeeze.  She doesn't flinch, then I squeeze again like a pump, and milk
shoots from her nipple and lands across the table.


Tasting my daughter's breast milk isn't something I thought I'd ever
do, but I bring my wet hand to my mouth and lick, tasting her natural
fluid.  The taste is so familiar and it makes my heart sink.


"You're right.  It's milk."


"Oh god," she says.


"Don't be afraid.  It's harmless."

"So everything about that island was true?  How long will this last?"

"Unfortunately I don't know how long this will last.  And yes, the
story about the island really happened."


"What should we do?"

Valerie sits there topless, so innocent and pure.  She's always looked
to me for guidance and this is the most consequential thing she's ever
faced.


"I'm going to give you a choice.  We can go to the hospital, in which
case you'll be carefully studied.  Or we can keep this a secret.  Then
you can live a normal life."

She squeezes her eyes shut.  "Oh god."

"It's okay, it's okay.  Take your time thinking about this.  The
choice is yours."

Valerie gives me a tight hug as she sits there, her face buried in my
stomach as tears fall, her bare breasts pressing against my thighs.  My
instinct as a mother is to apologize profusely for leaving a piece of
that meteorite in our home, but I stop myself, because another part of me
is curious how the science will unfold.


***


At night I call Dr. Patel after tracking down her phone number from
colleagues.  It's my first time talking to her in years.  I'm sitting
in my bedroom and I explain everything, with no detail left unturned, and
Dr. Patel listens to every word.  She tends to get quiet when something
truly piques her interest, then after she gathers enough information she
goes on the hunt.


"Who else knows?" she asks.

"Just you.  I was hoping you knew of a solution."

The line goes silent for a moment.


"I think what's happening to your daughter is further proof that the
meteorite has properties beyond our comprehension."

"That's the same conclusion I had earlier today."

"I need to clarify once again," she says.  "Your daughter physically
touched the meteorite?  And she developed breast milk?"


"Valerie told me she touched the rock, but I hadn't seen that.  And I
did actually milk her breast today.  It went across the dining table."

"Have you checked if she's pregnant?"

"She's a virgin.  We tell each other everything."


Dr. Patel thinks for a moment.  "There's no known cure for this.
Believe me, I've tried everything.  I've also remained in contact with
the women of the island.  They still have the same issues.  The good news
is, we've all learned to live with it."

I know that tone in her voice, that double meaning.  Mentally, it takes
me back to that island all those years ago, seeing Dr. Patel sucking the
nipples and milk of local Colombian women.  Then her offering her nipples
to me.  Some things never change and she'll always be a highly
respected, adventurous researcher with an intense sexual side.


"Have you ever told anyone about your predicament?" I ask.


"No way.  The same reason your daughter won't.  I refuse to be a
laboratory rat.  Besides, it's easily the most exciting thing that's
ever happened to me."


"Do you have any ideas?"


"The answer seems clear," she says.  "But I think you already know."


"If I knew the answer, I wouldn't have called you."

"Valerie has an older sister.  There's your answer."

It takes me a second to realize what Dr. Patel is implying and it's
something only she would suggest.  I'm so caught by surprise that I
actually gasp.


"You can't be serious."

"That's the only advice I can give.  In my personal and professional
opinion, it makes the most sense.  Think about it.  Valerie's breasts
will demand constant stimulation.  Who is she going to trust?  A romantic
partner?  How long are those relationships going to last?  A friend?
Then you have to consider gossip.  If you take my advice, everything will
stay in the family, the secret will be secure.  You know I'm right."

I refuse to admit it, but her logic is airtight.  Having seen firsthand
how the Colombian women reacted to the unknown stimulus, it's inevitable
that the same thing will happen with Valerie, especially given her
youthfulness.  I wonder if this is Dr. Patel leading me down a path of
depravity, or if she's giving the best advice possible.


The purity of my daughters means everything to me.  I've raised them
with all the love and affection I could give.  The thought of Valerie
having to endure this experience twists my stomach into knots, but adding
my other daughter into the mix, I don't know how to feel.  This is
uncharted territory for any parent.


Above all else, I know Dr. Patel is right.  It's the best option, for
better or worse.


~~~ 1996 ~~~


It's winter and my daughters are home.  Valerie will be finishing
college in a few months and she potentially has a job lined up in the
city after graduation.  She'd been hustling with different internships
and that's boosted her resume, with the breast milk situation fueling
the fires of her interests in medical research.


My eldest daughter is named Sienna and she lives in the city where she
works as a dental assistant.  She comes to visit whenever she can.  The
sisters have always been very close, even though their personalities seem
worlds apart.  Valerie is the sweet, booksmart girl.  Sienna has always
been the rebellious one with body piercings and a bohemian style with
constantly messy hair.


I love them both equally, but they love each other more.


When evening approaches I start preparing a roast chicken dinner with
herbs and butter sauce.  Christmas is days away and the doorbell rings;
Dr. Patel has arrived and she's brought some wine and gifts.  She's
older now, with streaks of gray in her long black hair.  She'll only be
staying for dinner and after that she'll leave to be with her family.
Her visit has become a new holiday tradition ever since I called her
years ago.


It's partly a social visit, but it's mainly Dr. Patel's curiosity
about my daughters, wanting to know how things are progressing.  They're
upstairs while we linger in the kitchen.


Even during the holidays, her buttoned-up persona remains firm, but with
a flare for adventure with her hiking boots, which she removed at the
door. Being around her is always comforting because we match intellects.
The downside, of course, is knowing her sexual side, which has always
made me uncomfortable.  To this day I remain surprised that no one truly
knows about her deviancies and her reputation isn't sullied.


I'm preparing a salad, chopping the vegetables and making a vinaigrette,
when Dr. Patel reaches into her pocket and unfolds a piece of paper.


"Have a look at this," she says.  "Something I've been tinkering with
for the last few months.  A few colleagues helped me with this, but they
don't know what it's for.  It's a synthetic compound, designed around
samples of my breast milk.  Have a look at these formulas."


"A cure?"


"Potentially.  It's in the early stages and it shows some promise."

"Have you tried it on yourself?"

She lifts an eyebrow.  "It's not for me.  Possibly for the women of the
island if they want it.  Possibly for your daughter... if she wants it..."

"What makes you think they wouldn't want it?"

"You don't know the power it possesses.  The islanders were right when
they called it a blessing."


"Some things never change."

I meant that as an off-hand comment but it came off more hostile than
intended.  She takes it in stride, and despite our professional
admiration for each other, she knows how I feel about certain things.
The friction between us will always exist.


"So, can I see them?" she asks.


"They're busy doing what they normally do before dinner."


"I know, that's why I'm asking."


"They usually keep the door closed when they do this.  You could try
knocking and asking them.  Sienna is open to being watched, but Valerie
is still shy."

"Ah, the duality of sisters."


Dr. Patel gives an embarrassed smile as she pushes the paper in my
direction and heads up the stairs to visit my daughters.  I take a glance
at the paper while I finish the salad.  My mind is so preoccupied with
making a holiday dinner for us, along with what's going on upstairs,
that I don't want to focus on formulas.


I take the chicken out of the oven and let it rest, then I start working
on the herb sauce.  The fact that Dr. Patel hasn't returned means she's
with my daughters.  The thought makes me cringe.  Am I a bad mother?  A
horrible one?  The question has plagued me for the last four years since
this all started.


When enough time has passed I start carving the chicken.  Dr. Patel comes
down the stairs, which is both a relief and a knot in my stomach.  At the
very least, her lips are dry, which means she hadn't done the
unthinkable with my daughter.  But there's a wry expression on her face,
a sense of tension, it's the same expression she had on the island all
those years ago.


"Everything okay?" I ask.


"Yeah, everything's fine.  They're washing up for dinner.  It smells
gorgeous in here."

"Family recipe."

A silence lingers between us when she stands near me in the kitchen.
I'm cutting the chicken instead of talking to her, at least it's less
awkward, but some things can't be ignored.  All I think about is what
Dr. Patel must have seen in that room.


"It doesn't have to be this way," she says.


Her tone is comforting, almost sympathetic.  I ignore that she steps
closer to me and I focus on carving the breast bone and splitting the
legs.  The juices run along my fingers.


"Of course it does," I say.

"Why?"

"Because none of this is normal.  Because we never should have gone to
that island."

"No, this might be one of the greatest discoveries in human history."


"I disagree.  Now you're opening the wrong doors."


"Should all doors remain closed?" she asks.  "Should we keep a closed
mind on everything, forever?"

Dr. Patel looks at me while unbuttoning her blouse.  She's not trying to
make her movements sexy, there's nothing on her face that's seductive.
It's a simple act of undoing her top and she's so casual about it.  Her
body is dark and she's wearing a white bra.


She lifts her bra and the breasts drop from the cup.  It's been many
years since she last tried to offer them to me, they've aged, they hang
a bit more.  But they still entice me the same way.  The nipples are
exactly the same.  Black nipples that protrude.  Nipples begging to be
sucked.


Years ago, when she first tried offering them to me, I had nothing to
gain.  There was nothing of interest to me besides hedonistic
sensations.  I was never promiscuous, I never engaged in casual sex.
I've always found that to be crude and pointless, as sex should be
something saved between lovers.


As she stands inches away from me, my heart changes, and now she has
everything to offer me.  Looking at her nipples, I think of my daughters
and what they do in the bedroom.  I feel an overwhelming urge to try and
understand Valerie and what Sienna does for her.


I bend down and take Dr. Patel's black nipple into my mouth.  I'm
careful with my hands as they're covered in chicken juices. The nipple
is stiff and her flesh is warm, it's my first time doing this with
another woman.  The fullness of her breast is pressed against my face and
I embrace it.


Her nipple shoots milk into my mouth after several sucks and now I
understand what it's like to taste another woman's fluids.  I've only
ever tasted my own.  Now I know what Sienna has felt these last four
years.  Tasting another woman's milk from the source is an intimate act.
It's love and sex combined. It's wildly erotic and there's no escaping
that.


It's sweet and creamy and I gulp it down to avoid a mess.  I keep
sucking and she moans out loud without trying to hide it, which disturbs
me, but it also arouses me.  She runs her fingers through my hair and
pulls me tighter onto her breast.


Footsteps are coming from upstairs, then I hear the sound of Valerie and
Sienna talking as they come down for dinner.  I spit the nipple out and
wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, clearing the evidence, and I
swallow what's in my mouth.  Dr. Patel does her part and pulls her bra
down, even with the excess milk leaking.  Then she buttons her blouse,
turns around and smiles at my approaching daughters as if nothing just
happened.


My daughters are a bundle of joy and they're exuberant, and while
they're still having a lively conversation about something, they start
grabbing plates and utensils and prepare the dining table.  Valerie is
always relaxed after those private sessions with her sister.  It takes
the edge off, it takes the anxiety away.


When everything is ready the four of us sit down to eat.  The sisters
have pleasant expressions on their faces after what they'd done in the
bedroom.  It always makes them smile and puts them at ease.  Dr. Patel
has a similar expression knowing that she turned me into the thing I'd
always criticized her for.


I force myself to smile, to be a good host, to guide the conversation at
the table since I'm the head of the household.  Everyone is in a great
mood but I wish I could have some time alone.  I cut into the chicken
with sauce and take a bite.  The flavor is excellent, but it's not quite
right.  The flavor is tainted with the lingering essence of Dr. Patel's
breast milk in my mouth.


~~~ 2007 ~~~


Retirement has given me time to write the books I've always wanted to
write, but I miss my students, I miss interacting with fellow faculty
members on campus.  I've become one of those overbearing older mothers
who constantly pries into the lives of her daughters.  They enjoy the
attention, they think it's amusing, but I'm certain they're a little
annoyed since they have their own careers.


It's 9:32 in the morning and a taxi drops me off at Valerie's apartment
in the city.  I have a spare key and I let myself inside, finding no one
there.  At this hour she's probably at the farmer's market buying fresh
food and I'm not supposed to arrive until lunch time anyway.


Valerie's apartment is styled much like her old bedroom but with modern
sensibilities.  Everything is neat and clean.  There are pictures of me
and Sienna which decorate the living room.  Pictures of the family
vacations we used to take.  All of us smiling and happy at exotic
locations from around the world.


On the kitchen counter are empty cups used for her breast pump.  It's
yet another gentle reminder of her life, and no matter how many times I
see it, the sight will always give me pause.  The guilt never goes away.
She's never had a serious romantic relationship and I've always
attributed that to her breast milk condition, which she denies.  She
always says that she prefers hanging out with her sister.


I step into Valerie's bedroom even though she gets annoyed when I do
this.  It's a bad habit of mine, but she isn't here to stop me.  I like
knowing how she's doing and how she's living her life.  I've been
hounding her to start thinking about marriage in the future, but she
always says that she's busy with work.


Then I notice something new in her bedroom.  Something I'd never seen
before.  A folded tripod.  On the table sits a digital video recorder.
That's also a webcam attached to her computer.  It's a new kind of
webcam that I've seen in the electronic section of major retailers.  I
often talk with Valerie over phone calls, but sometimes we use email or
internet texts.  I wonder why she hasn't told me that she uses a webcam
now.  My initial thought is that she uses it for work, or friends, or
even her sister.


I look more closely at her desk and see a number of USB drives next to
the digital recorder.  I read the labels on the different drives and I'm
shocked to the core.


Sienna Milk 1


Sienna Milk 2


Sienna Eating/Licking


I've never accessed my daughter's computer before but I feel compelled
to do just that.  It feels like an eternity waiting for her computer to
load.  The background on the home screen is a picture of the three of
us.  Several years ago we went on a family vacation to Mexico and took a
picture with an ancient temple behind us. We were wearing shorts and
tshirts, crouching down with the biggest smiles on our faces.


After a deep breath I insert one of the USB drives into the computer to
see if my suspicion is correct or not.  There are many files and I click
at something random.


The first video shows Valerie topless while Sienna is next to her wearing
a bra.  They're sitting on the bed with a keyboard in front of them,
facing the webcam.  They're both casual about this, not a hint of
nervousness even as the breasts are exposed.  Valerie sports the same bob
cut as always, the same innocent expression on her face, while Sienna is
ever the rebel with blue highlights and tattoos showing on her arms and
chest.


I don't watch porn but I know they're making porn.  They're talking to
each other and sometimes they talk directly to the camera.  I don't
bother turning up the volume to listen to what they're saying, because
frankly I don't even want to know.


Forwarding the video clip, I stop when the girls laugh and Valerie sits
so that her breasts face Sienna, who bends down to take the big pink
areola into her mouth.  I'd mentioned before that Valerie has different
sized breasts, in this video Sienna sucks the bigger one.  There's joy
on Valerie's face as she's being nursed by her sister.


The truth is, I'd only seen my daughters engaging in this early on, when
it first started years ago.  I still remember broaching the topic with
them, individually at first, then together so we could make a family
decision.  The sisters never revolted against the plan laid out by Dr.
Patel, instead they found it humorous.  They giggled and joked about it.
And when it finally happened in my living room, it was a revelation.
Breast pumps weren't as advanced back then so Sienna's mouth had to do
the job, in terms of draining the milk and satisfying the increased
demand on Valerie's sexuality.  I'd guided them a few times on proper
technique and clean up, then after that I couldn't watch anymore.


Now I'm seeing them doing it as grown adults with their own lives and
careers.  This is recreational rather than necessity.  This is purely
sexual.  This is pornography that they're making and they seem
enthusiastic about it.  Valerie squeezes and pumps her lower breast while
Sienna sucks and gulps down as much as she can.  Excess milk drips down.


At the end of it, they kiss on the lips, softly at first, then more
passionate.  Milk swaps between their lips and tongues.  Seeing this
takes my breath away because this is a different level of intimacy.  It
means they're lovers rather than sisters who are helping each other.
Sienna strokes Valerie's hair as they kiss and later their hands are all
over each other.


I'd long suspected that they were more involved with each other than
they were willing to admit.  They've always been close, but ever since
the breast milk situation began, they'd exchange subtle glances over the
dining table.  They'd sit a little closer together when watching a
movie.  A few times I saw them holding hands.  It's the small things
which had raised my suspicions, but as a mother, I could never admit it
to myself.


Seeing their tongue swirling has made me realize what a fool I've been.
Tiny droplets of milk are still on Sienna's chin as they're making
out.  Valerie's nipple, the one which had just been sucked, is still
shining with milk and saliva.


The next video shows Valerie wearing a cupless bra that's designed
purely for gratification, while Sienna is dressed in a patterned tank top
that shows off her bohemian style.  I forward the video to see them
talking and sometimes laughing.  Then Sienna reaches over and lifts each
of Valerie's breasts from the bottom, giving special attention to the
larger breast.  It's meant to entice the viewer.  Valerie milks herself
in the camera's direction, letting the milk shoot toward the screen.  I
never knew that she could shoot milk this far.


I decide to watch one more video, this one showing Valerie on her back,
fully nude, and she's wearing the kind of blindfold that's used for
sleeping on an airplane.  Her hands are tied to the bed frame above her
head.  Sienna comes into frame, I see that her top is lifted and it's my
first time seeing her breasts as an adult.  They're perky, protruding
forward, and they're evenly sized.  The nipples are a darker shade of
pink than her sister's and they're erect.


Sienna looks at the camera and talks a little bit, before kissing
Valerie's chest, then getting between her legs to perform oral sex.
Valerie squirms in the video and I also squirm from watching this.  She
gives a familiar smile as she's being eaten, a familiar moan, both of
which suggest that they've been doing this for a long time.  How long
had they been going down on each other?  Was it before their webcam
adventures?  Did this ever happen while Valerie lived at home with me?
It would make sense.  My thoughts torment me.


After the onscreen orgasm from a blindfolded Valerie, she relaxes, and
then Sienna gets up and squats down over Valerie's mouth.  The favor is
returned.  Both sisters go down on each other as part of their routine.
As the label suggests, they `eat' each other out.


I hear the front door open as Valerie arrives and she sees my shoes by
the door.  I listen to her putting a grocery bag on the counter.  She
calls my name, but I'm too stunned to respond, my attention is hyper
focused on the video of my beautiful daughters, nude on screen, with
Sienna cumming inside her younger sister's mouth.  It's a wet one and
fluids are shown.


The footsteps approach and Valerie comes to the bedroom.  She sees me
watching their porn video.  She's speechless.  When I manage to look at
my daughter, I see that she's humiliated from being caught, but there's
also a look of resignation on her face -- as if she was going to tell me
about this eventually.


Dr. Patel once told me this was inevitable.  To prepare for it.  I should
have believed her.


~~~ Present Day 2018 ~~~


Now you understand my hesitation for releasing this story to the greater
public, but also why it's so important for the world to understand.  Dr.
Patel has since passed away and all of her notes and private research
documents were left to me.  I've started a few drafts for a potential
story about the Island and about my daughters.  My journals and Dr.
Patel's notes will be front and center.


The main point of contention, of course, are my daughters.  Valerie's
breasts.  Nursing sisters.  And the fact that I've been nursing from
Valerie for years, ever since the day I discovered their webcam hobby.
It was never about the money, as they'd said, but about the
exhibitionist experience for them, the fact that they were appreciated
and desired for what they did with each other.


I had a deep conversation that day in 2007 when Valerie came home from
the market and found me watching her pornography.  She wasn't mad that I
found out.  Instead she was relieved.  We had a heart to heart
conversation, the kind we never had before, but should have.  I cried on
her shoulder for several minutes.  Valerie responded by opening her top
and guiding her breast to my mouth.  The bigger one, the one with more
milk.  That was the first time I nursed from her.  My daughters offered
me a chance to appear in their videos, but I never accepted.


As for them, they've had a few relationships that never worked out.
They never married.  Their friends and our family don't understand why
they value their independence so much.  But I understand that their true
love is each other.  I see it whenever I visit their home (they live
together now).  Or when they come to visit my home.  I guess I've always
known it would be like this.


Their door is no longer closed in my home whenever they come to visit.
They leave their door open when they share a bed.  Sometimes they're
intimate in the living room as I'm cooking a family meal.  Breasts on
display, nursing, them on their knees, going down on each other.  After
that they're normal sisters, like nothing was out of the ordinary, as if
they hadn't just made each other cum.  I sometimes prepare food with a
cup of Valerie's milk after their interactions.


I've tasted the forbidden fruit.  Believe me, it's shameful to admit
and it'll be difficult to write this in my book, but I've gone down on
each of them.  Just like I learned to go down on Dr. Patel whenever
she'd visit, before her eventual passing. I wanted to understand.  I
needed to know how and why.  And they taught me to understand.  I'm not
a raging lesbian by any means, but eating out Dr. Patel and my daughters
was something I wished I'd done earlier in my life while I was younger.
As for Valerie's milk, it's delicious.  The best thing I've ever had.


The End


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