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I’m a freak.
You see, I have a fetish for motherhood – specifically young motherhood, the kind epitomized by bloated tummies and breastfeeding.
I don’t know where it began, especially since I feel no conscious attraction to my own mother.
Sure, my obsession had to come from some dark part of my psyche – just look at the libraries of incriminating evidence, after all. I’ve accumulated plenty of jack-off material, from the more-or-less innocuous (celebrity magazine spreads, birthing instructional videos, and every sample image from pregnancy shoots I can get my hands on) to hard-core stuff: yummy porn involving ANRs, milk play, and the luckiest bastards in the world massaging their third-trimester wives’ bodies with warm lotion.
It was in university that I started hooking up with pregnant moms. Baby product stores are to preggo chicks like a creek to fish, only better: because so many men find pregnancy ugly, all you have to do is be sweet and conversational, and push the cart for her, and you have a damned-better-than-you’d-believe chance of getting her number. Taken, married, single, or otherwise.
In fact, my favourite lays are the married ladies with the piece-of-shit husbands always at work. These women incidentally tend to be the hottest (though the adultery taboo likely confounds that matter) and I can never figure out why any man would neglect them, especially in the prime of their youth and feminine beauty.
But oh well, I say – more for me!
What gets me off most is how I’m taking another man’s boiling-hot wife in his own home, usually right where we could be caught at any moment. Against the bathroom door or bedroom wall, in his own bed, on the kitchen floor. And you’d be surprised at what many of these beautiful women will do after a nice bath or massage or eating out or tit-sucking: though not expected, a good blow job or butt-fuck is always welcome as gratuity for good service!
Unfortunately, the fun usually ends by the birth, for reasons I should clarify. I apologize in advance that these clarifications will not be as sexy as the previous matters, but promise to be brief. My primary interest in a pregnant woman after a birth would be breastfeeding, for which a few personal and ethical considerations come into play. First, I never have – and never will – involve children in fetish activities. Second, I understand bingöl seks hikayeleri the many health benefits imparted by natural breastmilk and do not want to deprive an infant of these benefits, so I will only suckle a woman if she is no longer nursing or has made an informed decision to use formula. Finally, I view breastfeeding – paradoxically, some might say – as both my most taboo, exciting fetish and the one I tend to reserve most especially for strong, committed relationships.
Thus after-birth relationships are like flawless diamonds: rare, but magnificent and certainly worth the effort to obtain them.
Suckling a woman is like kissing her: the kind of physical bond so special and intimate that a prostitute would be loath to let you do it to her for any cost. I submit to her, I pleasure her, I taste her, I drink from her gratefully, feigning innocence. We bond in near-silence.
Her warm milk is like opium tea in my mouth. I forget everything, am ecstatic, cling to her.
… of course, all this innate poetry doesn’t mean I can’t just have a little naughty fun, too. Like this afternoon, when I went over to my friend Nadia’s house. Married when I met her, shortly after her son was born she divorced her fat loser husband after finding out he had been cheating on her with escorts.
She answers the door in a robe.
– Hey. She wraps her arms under my shoulders and kisses and bites my neck. Looking down, I see that she has nothing on under the robe and is grinding her pussy against my shorts.
– Hey, I say. I walk in and close the door behind me, then push her petite figure against the door so she’s a few inches off the ground. I kiss her and push my tongue into her hot mouth, then pull my tongue out and lick a spit trail from her hard nipple to her earlobe.
She moans.
– You like that, don’t you, you dirty little girl?
– Oh, yeah, baby. I love it.
She pulls my ear to her lips and, motioning her head toward her son’s room, says in a low voice
– I just rocked him to sleep, so we have a whole afternoon to ourselves. She gives me this impish grin and, putting my nose to hers, chuckles a throaty, evil chuckle.
Grabbing my hand, she leads me to her bedroom.
The room smells like mall candles, the sun shines through remodelled windows, and her king-size bed is made. She drops her robe to reveal her stunning body.
Her brunette hair is down, she has a full nest of pubic hair around her beaver, and her D3-cup tits are primed and erect with their big brown saucer nipples. A bead of milk drips down the one to my left.
She climbs onto her bed and reclines like the Venus d’Urbino – graceful, feminine, seductive. I join her, pulling the sheets over me, and she coos and pulls my head to her breasts.
– Come here, sweetheart, she says.
And I latch onto her left nipple and begin to suck out milk. Body-warm milk, her own creation, hot candy shooting in jets into my mouth. I wrap my arms around her, bombed unconscious by pure existential pleasure.
She moves a pillow under my head so I can comfortably recline, and with a free hand I start jerking myself off. To the sensation of the milk and her nipple, and to her flawless body, and to being *with* someone as you seldom are. Slowly I do this, as slowly I suckle her for the next few minutes.
Then she pats my head and shifts her body. It’s startling; at first I am unsure whether she’s getting up or merely stretching. But then she speaks
– Let go. Let go. Mommy needs to talk to you, okay?
I detach myself. She shifts position to kneel over me, then turns me so I lie on my back and puts her hands on my shoulders.
– Mmm, that’s a good boy. Now close your eyes.
I close them.
Within a few seconds, I feel her sleeving her pussy around me. Slowly, until I’m all the way inside her. Then, a little faster, she pulls up, then pushes down, up, down. Never failing to disappoint me with how tight and wet she is, she pumps me at torturous half-speed and I groan with ecstasy.
She stops and puts her index finger on my lips.
– Sh, sh, sh: be nice and quiet while mommy does what she does best. You are mommy’s special little man, aren’t you?
– Yes, mommy. Yes, of course I am.
– Good boy. Good boy!
She rides me like this for about a minute longer, then stops and leans down to give me a kiss and nose-rub.
– Mmm, who’s my special little man?
Then, putting her hands on my upper arms, she pushes herself up to talk to me from further back. Her messy brunette hair has fallen over her face and eyes and she’s biting her lower lip. Her nipples are dark and pointed, their colour a blend of that of her skin and her hair.
– Did that feel good, baby?
– Yes, mommy.
She smiles; then, taking on an earnest air, she leans in to me, looking deep into my eyes.
– You understand that there’s nothing wrong with what we just did, right?
– Mmm, yes, I understand.
She runs a finger down my chest.
– Don’t let anyone make you ashamed of letting mommy make you feel good.
– I won’t, mommy.
– Because this is a beautiful, natural thing that mommies do with their special little guys.
– I understand, mommy.
– But if you tell people, they might not understand, and might make fun of you or mommy. And we wouldn’t want that – would we?
– No, mommy.
She grins from one side of her mouth.
– So we’ll keep this our fun little secret?
– Yes, mommy. Our secret.
– Mmm, she coos. She presses my lips to hers, and our mouths open for an open-mouth kiss that lasts at least a minute.
I’m hard again as I realize I’m still inside her.
– Besides, she says, you haven’t finished everything on your plate.
– Can I have dessert with my meal?
She laughs just as she did when I greeted her coming in. And then she starts again harder and faster than before, impaling herself. I scoot back against the pillows and pull her toward me so I can latch again; she is all too happy to oblige. I suck her and before long she’s shooting her steaming milk again, this time panting like a sprinter and pounding me with her full weight.
– Oh, yeah, that’s it. Good boy. Drain mommy’s milk ducts. Suck mommy until she’s bruising and sore. You’re mommy’s special little man, aren’t you?
I’m so close to the edge that there should be a fence and warning sign.
– Mmm, cum for mommy. Come on baby, I know you feel so good you’re about to explode. Shoot that hot sperm-wad inside me and knock me up. We can raise the baby together, and while I’m pregnant you can be my worker bee. You can clean the house and feed me and do whatever I want, and I’ll just be comfortable all day as you kiss my feet and bow to me as your queen. And you’ll rub my whole body with oil, too – and that includes my tummy and my nipples and my big, fat pregnant ass.
And I blow it. She slams down on me one last time and I shoot five good hot bursts of sperm inside her.
After she comes down from her orgasm, we embrace for a deep kiss that lasts what feels like forever, then take a nap for the rest of the afternoon.
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