Date: Fri, 3 Apr 2015 20:56:50 +0000 (UTC)
From: SR
Subject: Our Milk

No this is not a true story. It is fiction.


Our Milk

I have thought about telling this story for many years. It all began 60
years ago when I was first born. My mother was a stunning lady with long
blonde hair and delicate frame. She was on the tall side being about 5?11?
and very shapely. Though she was of delicate frame, she had all the right
curves in all the right places. Her breasts were a natural C and her hips
were of just the right proportion to her height. Not too big and not too
small. Her waist was a different story, it was quite small from years of
using a corset. It gave her the perfect hourglass figure that was so
envied at that time by so many women. She is the one who gave me my name,
Shileah. Father did not like it but she put it down on my birth
certificate before he could object. Father use to call me his little
Rose. You see, I had inherited his red hair and even though Rose was not
my name, that is what he like to call me.

My mother nursed me when I was young and while she was nursing me, her
breasts were a full D if not a little larger. I think she liked them that
size because she attracted even more attention, and she craved attention.
She would walk around, even in those days with lower cut tops that were
not seen as very lady like. She didn?t care though, she knew that all the
right eyes were watching her ? and some of the wrong eyes as well. That
didn?t stop her from flaunting what she had and she received a lot a
jealous stares from the other ladies. I believe she liked those D cups
because she nursed me much longer than was accepted. It wasn?t until I was
six years old that she stopped nursing me, and then, only because father
sent her away for half a year to California to be with his ailing
parents. She didn?t want to go but she really didn?t have a choice and by the
time she got back, her milk had dried up. I was sad when she got back and
found out that she did not have any more milk. I was looking forward to
sleeping next to her again with my head in her chest sucking the smooth
white fluid from her perfect breasts. Of course, at the time, it wasn?t a
sexual thing. For me, it was comfort. It was a warmth and a secure
feeling. Every night I would fall asleep at her breasts and every morning
I would wake up and the first thing I would do was take one of the round
nipples into my mouth and drink my breakfast down, even before getting
out of bed to relieve myself. I think father was upset that she did this
but he didn?t complain because he liked the size of her breasts as well.
When mother came home, I could see that something was different about her
but I couldn?t place my finger on it until the first night when I crawled
into bed with her and tried to nurse again. While she didn?t try to stop
me, I quickly realized that it was pointless and that I was never going
to be able to drink from her again.

And then it happened. A few years later, Mother got pregnant again. I was
ten by this time and had been sleeping in my own bed since that first
night she had gotten back. I didn?t know about the pregnancy until she was
showing quite a bit but then I also noticed that she was developing
again. I was excited and asked her if I would be able to sleep with her
again. She told me that I could until the baby was born but that after
that, the baby would have to eat first. I climbed into bed with her that
night but was disappointed when nothing came out. Still, I did not give
up. I could see mother?s breast getting bigger and knew that eventually I
would have that sweet whiteness that come from mother. I wasn?t
disappointed, in about a week?s time I could start to taste some liquid
start and although it didn?t taste good at first, within a few days I was
happily drinking again. And then something terrible happened. We were all
going out to dinner when we got into and accident. Mom was close to term
and she ended up losing the baby. Father didn?t make it either, so it was
just the two of us. Mother went into a state of depression and we went to
sleep each night in each other?s arms. Of course, I kept up drinking at
this point and now I knew that it was all going to be for me. Mom even
took to offering me what she called ?our milk? in the middle of the day. When
I would get home from school, she would be sitting in the living room on
the couch with her top off waiting for me. She even put me in diapers
quite often, such was the pain she was going through from losing the
baby. She would have me lay on the couch and cradle me just like she
would a baby and I would happily help her out. This continued for a
couple of years until I was about twelve years old.

Around the age of twelve, I started my first period. Mom explained what
it was to me and told me that I was becoming a lady. Not long after that,
I started to bud out. Mom noticed it and told me that soon, I would have
a nice set of breasts just like hers. I asked her then if she was going
to suck on my breasts and she just laughed and told me that I would need
some milk to make it worthwhile. I was disappointed and kept begging her
to do it because I knew how much I enjoyed sucking her breasts, I figured
she would enjoy sucking my breasts, even if didn?t have anything to offer
her. She finally consented and when I first felt her lips close around my
nipples, I felt a surge of excitement. My breasts were not that big yet
but they were growing and my excitement never diminished each time I felt
her mouth on my areolas. I had it in my mind that someday I would be able
to give to mother what she had given me for so long. I wanted it so bad
that I started to believe that I was really there to feed her. What I
didn?t know was that sometimes, all it takes for a woman?s body to produce
milk is the belief that she has a baby, or someone to feed. Well, that is
where I was at. I truly believed that I was supposed to feed mother.
Soon, I was looking real good. I would admire my breasts in the mirror
before going to school and at night before going to bed, I would stand in
front of the mirror and watch them, occasionally asking mother if she
thought I had nice breasts. Of course she always said that I was
developing nicely and that someday I would have breasts just like hers.
Well, my breasts didn?t stop growing at a C. They kept on growing and I was
constantly having to buy new bras. I couldn?t fit into mother?s because while
I had breasts that were close to her size, she was a 38D and I was only a
32.

One night after we had gone to bed, I had finished drinking from both of
mother?s breasts and now she laid with her head on my chest as I liked her
doing. Her lips closed around my nipple and all of a sudden she gave out
a little squeak. I asked what was wrong but she just said it was nothing.
I didn?t know that she had gotten some liquid from my breasts. Later, she
told me that it wasn?t very much but that she knew I would soon have my own
milk. Something changed in her at that point because when she started to
suck my nipples, it wasn?t playful like it used to be. It seemed like she
was trying to get something out and she was sucking in earnest. This
time, she sucked on both breasts and for much longer than she normally
did. It didn?t take long for the milk to fully come in and by that time, I
was even bigger than mother. All the guys at school used to follow me
around and it didn?t help that I had to use pads in my bra because I leaked
quite a bit and even had to change the pads out a school a couple of
times a day.

When I would get home, I would be hurting so bad and mother would know
it. She would be sitting on the couch waiting for me. I am not sure when
mother stopped putting me in diapers but I think it happened shortly
after she started nursing from me. Occasionally, we would play and we
would both wear diapers but at that time we knew it was just for play. So
every day when I got home from school,  mother would be waiting for me on
the couch to relieve the pressure in my breasts. Sometimes she would be
in her normal clothes, sometimes she would be naked, and sometimes she
would be in diapers. There are even times when she dressed up like a baby
and even had a rattle. At times, especially when she was naked, I would
know that she was feeling the hurt from the pressure as well and we would
lay opposite each other drinking each other?s milk at the same time. This
is what I liked the best because not only could I taste mother?s milk and
enjoy her soft breasts, I could also feel my mother buried in my breasts,
especially when they were hanging contouring to the shape of her face.

This was definitely a time when we shared Our Milk.