My Second Breastfeeding

I had asked my mom if I was breastfed. She can’t remember. It’s not that she is dumb or forgetful, but she is 65 years old, had five kids, and did not nurse all of them. I remember as a child seeing my mother bare breasted and even asking her what breasts were for. Gee, I must have been 4 or 5 years old, but she was straightforward and told me that’s how mommas fed their babies. I have such a fascination for breasts and breastfeeding. I figure either I breastfed a lot, or not at all and those extremes is what gives me such a drive for nursing.
My mom is not a glamour queen but she is my mom and I love her. I have a picture of her with my pops when they were first married and she was quite the looker back in the day. Five babies takes a toll out of a woman’s body so men’s heads may not turn for her anymore, but she is a wonderful woman to me. I have to admit, because of my “breast fetish”, if you will, I continually notice her rather large sagging breasts. She’s very conservative, but living in the same house affords me the opportunity to see her in her nightgown. It’s the type that buttons down the front and is slightly translucent allowing a bit of the areola to show through when the gown material is pressed against the breast. Her most prominent feature is her nipples. When erect, they make an impression through her bra material and shirt/blouse, and she tends to wear the industrial strength type bras. Of course I knew this because I have secretly checked out her bras and their size from the dirty clothes hamper, 44DD. Mom gets up rather early so she tends to do a lot of morning tasks in her nightgown, especially if she has no where to go first thing. These are the times I have gotten the best views of her in her nightgown.
Because her breasts are so full and sagging you can see them sway back and forth, beneath the gown, as she moves. To me, seeing her breasts sway underneath the material is so erotic. It’s hard not to stare while her breasts seem to move with a rhythm of their own, as her body move. To see the protruding nipples, which seemed to be large just from the impression they gave through the clothes material at times, made me think of nursing from her as a child and how much I would love to do it now that I could truly enjoy the nursing experience. But hey, what would be wrong with that. I have never thought of her sexually but merely in a nurturing fashion. To me, the act of nursing in that perspective is a definite stress reliever and nurturing kind of calm you can get no where else than from suckling a breast and having a nursing relationship. But could I pull this off?
I have never really been a tense person. But I do have a great imagination and a knack for thinking of scenarios that are entirely plausible. I seriously thought about whether I would even be able to nurse from my moms’ breasts without seeming to press her to the point that I was being obnoxious or perverted about it. As I have said, my imaginative mind started to work out scenarios of which the end result would be a nursing session with my mom, but the main goal of this scenario was for it to be something she thought of or offered, not me outright asking for it.
A big part of this plan was already in motion. I had just broken up with my girlfriend of a year. I would create a situation, which never happened between my girlfriend and I, to help me with my goal. I would need to have patience. This is not something that would happen overnight and it definitely could not be rushed. Another good thing was that my mom and I always talked to each other. It’s one of the things that we loved to do as it brought us closer and I always felt as though she thought of me as an adult, old enough to talk with about all topics. I began by re-asking about my having been breastfed as a child.
“Did you nurse me when I was a baby Mom”?
“Honey, I don’t remember. I think so”, she replied. “Why do you ask”?
“At the mall today I noticed a woman breastfeeding a baby. The child was kinda older, I mean toddler aged, but it seemed so natural and I thought it was beautiful”.
“Nursing is beautiful, I only wish I had nursed all you kids and not just some”. “It’s unusual to nurse a child that old though” she continued “How old do you think the child was”?
“I would guess about 3 or 4 years”, I stammered “but actually the mean breastfeeding age in the U.S. is 4 years”.
“You’re kidding, besides, how would you know that”?
I volunteered, “I have done a lot of reading on breastfeeding and it’s one of the facts that keeps popping up which most people do not realize”. “That’s why I am curious about if I was breastfed or not. I’ve started reading up on it a couple of years ago when I realized how it made me feel”.
The seed was planted. She went on to explain that the longest she remembers nursing any one child was about a year and a half. This was a great opportunity for me to share my breastfeeding knowledge with her. I told her about attachment parenting and baby led weaning and how women were nursing well into the three and four year range. She seemed impressed and wanted to know what I got out of all this reading. I told her that I was trying to figure out why I was so infatuated with breastfeeding and figured the more I knew about it the less I would be concerned with it. I confessed that the more I read and knew about it the more I thought of it as nurturing and a way of relieving stress for adults if they could nurse. I figured after the last statement, she would be totally disgusted if I was wrong about my ability to be able to nurse from her at this age. She kind of smiled and lightly agreed that it might make a difference in stress one felt. Cool! Her last reaction was the catalyst for which direction I should go. A negative response would have let me know to forget the whole thing. It would not have been worth the aggravation to push for something she did not agree with in on a lighter side.
I let that conversation sink in for a couple of days and meanwhile started to act as though I was antsy and unnerved. Midterms were coming up so this was not an out of the blue mood for me to create. I talked about the upcoming midterms in front of her and tried to show I was concerned about one class. The next step was to re-introduce the breastfeeding topic again. I didn’t want to just talk about it this time, as if in passing, but wanted to give the impression or prove that my previous statements about doing a lot of reading on the topic was true. For this point, I went to the library and checked out the breastfeeding book “Nursing your Toddler”. Now the type of book was important. I chose one without actual pictures, in that the point was that I was reading about breastfeeding and not looking at the pictures of women nursing. Also, I wanted to emphasize that fact that I was reading up on the nurturing aspect of nursing vice the nutritional aspect. I then left the book on the coffee table one night for her to find during her cleaning the next day. This would be another pinnacle in the development of this scenario. I needed to understand her reaction in a positive or negative light so as to know whether it would be okay to continue to develop it, or discontinue the whole project. That next morning as I ate breakfast she approached me and asked if the breastfeeding book was mine. I replied that it was, waiting in anticipation as to how she would respond. She calmly asked what I was reading up on. I responded that the book dealt with extended breastfeeding, or nursing past what was considered the “normal” age in the eyes of society. To my joy, mom continued to probe a little bit more into my reasoning. Continuing to discuss it through her own initiation was key that she interested with what was going on with me.
“Well”, I started. “I have always thought that nursing was more than a nutritional thing for a baby but a bonding of mother and child”. “It is also a nurturing time for the child and a time when the mother can relax as she nurses”. “Sometimes, I wish I could nurse my worries away”.
“Is something the matter sweetheart”, she asked? “What’s bothering you”?
“It’s just my Calc mid-term”, I replied. “I kinda dropped a couple of the weekly quizzes and want to ace this mid-term to get me back up to speed”.
“I’ve never seen you this anxious about a test before”, she remarked. “Why is this so different”?
“Things are a little bit different this time” I shot back. “It’s okay, I’ll deal with it”.
“But how have you dealt with it before”? She was getting more involved than I had anticipated.
“Gee mom, it’s kinda personal”. I hoped to grab her attention but not push her too far away.
She looked disheartened that I would not confide in her but sensed she may be pushing too much. She asked if she could read the book and of course I was oh so happy to let her.
I again did not bring up the breastfeeding subject knowing she would be reading the book and might have questions, which would lead her to start the conversation. I did continue with my anxious/frantic attitude to show that the issue she saw in me, was still there and had not been addressed properly. Since beginning this “Can I nurse from my mom at my age” scenario, the urge to see my mom in her nightgown had grown considerably. With this too I needed to be cognizant of not going overboard or doing things out of my ordinary mode which would contradict the role I was playing out. Occasionally, I would get up early, on the premise to study, to watch her move about the house. Her large full breasts made the nightgown billow below her ribcage and swung slowly as she moved about the kitchen and dining area.
“How’s the studying going”, she asked.
“Okay I guess”, I responded mildly. “I just wish it was over. I get nervous when I review my calc notes. I feel as though I forget it all and am relearning it each time it review”.
“Yes”, she started to comment “…you seem to still be tense at times. I’m not trying to pry, but I am curious as to how you managed with this kind of situation in the past. What’s different this time? I have never noticed you like this before”. There! She had opened the door for me to describe a fabricated resolution to this situation. This is exactly the point I wanted her to be and with her initiating it was the best way. I still could not rush in though. I had to play it off just a bit, but not too much, such that it would not be brought up again.
I thought of something that would make me blush.
“Aw mom”, I hesitated. “Well, what’s different is that I don’t have Jean to study with anymore”. Jean, of course, was the old girlfriend and unwitting accomplice in this task.
“She could calm you that much”, my mom questioned? “What in heavens name did she do to get you to relax”?
“Well…”, this had to be hard for me to tell her and actually it was. “…it’s not what she did for me, but what she allowed me to do”.
“What”?
Now I needed to integrate the breastfeeding book into the explanation. I had to play up the nurturing, relaxing effect nursing has.
“You know how I have been interested in breastfeeding”, I asked?
“Yes”, she responded.
“One of the things I realized from all the reading is that breastfeeding has a way of relieving tensions that build up throughout the day. In some cultures, it is a way the women calm their mates when they are anxious. Whether she is lactating or not, when she feels the male needs to relax, she offers her breasts for him to suckle”.
She didn’t flinch or gasp.
I continued. “Many times after Jean and I would study, or when we needed a break, she would allow me to suckle her breasts and nurse. It really helps me to calm down and not take things so seriously”.
With that bomb dropped. I awaited the fallout.
“Was it sexual as well”, mom asked bluntly? “Did it lead to intercourse”?
“No”, I continued on with my lie. “Jean would not have sex before marriage, but I confided in her my feelings about nursing and what a tension reliever it could be for me at times like this”.
I dropped my head to show my embarrassment and continued. “She agreed to allow me to try it once and we set aside a quiet place just as if it were a mother-child nursing relationship. Once I began nursing and suckling at length, she found that she was able to relax and feel comfortable as well”.
“And that’s it”, she asked? “That’s all you needed to calm you down”?
I nodded in the affirmative.
“Well”, she hesitated, “is there anything I can do to help? I hate seeing you like this”.
“Of course not mom”, I took a deep breath. “I don’t expect to be able to breastfeed from you”.
I had finally done it. All of what I wanted her to know and be able to appreciate was placed before her. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking but it was great not to see anger or insult on her face.
“So, this nursing really helps you, and it is non-sexual”, she asked as she swallowed to get wetness into her throat?
“Oh, YES”, I responded confidently.
My heart was beating a mile a minute. Because of the way I had played this scenario, from this moment on, I would never be able to ask to suckle her. It would have to be offered to me.
“It’s too bad you two are not together then”.
Definitely not the words I wanted to hear. My face flushed as I now thought that I had lied to my mom about something. I guess I felt as though future talks would be less than poignant as they had been.
“I you can work through this”, she continued.
She moved close placing her hand on my head and bringing me close to her breast in the motherly fashion she had done many times before. She gave me a firm hug, kissed me on the top of my head and started to release her grip.
“When is your Calc mid-term”, she asked?
“Next Thursday”, I said as positively as I could.
She let me go and continued working about the kitchen as if nothing out of the ordinary had been said.
What a pain! Where had I gone wrong? Had I seriously misjudged her, or maybe the dreams of nursing my mom’s large sagging breasts were too warped and I needed a reality check. I was torn between keeping up the scenario and just forgetting the whole thing. Continuing won out for two reasons.
First, I was too embarrassed to have my mom figure out that I was not serious about what I had said. She would sure figure it out if things went back to normal after this.
Second, she was not totally upset or angry and who knows, after a bit, she might start asking questions again.
The weekend was uneventful. I was less frantic about things but kept up the “stress” level just a bit, for show of course. Nothing had really changed around the house. I would have expected maybe my mom to be a little uptight about things, but she was not. I arose early on Monday as the midterms were real and I did need some extra study time. When mom came down and started her normal morning routine, I noticed she had on a nightgown I had not seen before. It was the typical translucent type, light blue in color, with pleats down the front. I was disappointed in that the folded material of the pleats blocked the normal view I had of the shadow of her dark areola through the cloth. The familiar swaying of her heavy breasts was still there and my only consolation. Later that day, I reflected on how I could have done things differently, to have a little more positive spin on the outcome. Maybe, I moved a bit too fast. Maybe I had misjudged her completely. I would probably never know. It was unfortunate, but the rejection of my mother to allow me to nurse really did start to effect my study. All I could think of was how close I might have come to nursing my moms’ breasts.
The night before midterms or finals, I always took the studying kind of light. I hated bogging myself down with fear of topics I thought I’d forgotten to study. Wednesday night I lounged on the couch doing a final overview of my Calculus. Mom came down for her usual goodnight wearing the disappointing new nightgown. “How’s it going sweetheart”, mother asked.
“Okay”, I muttered “I think I’ll do okay”.
I had to still play the role though it was toned down a bit.
“You sound like you’re still anxious over this mid-term. You seemed as though you were handling it fairly well the last couple of days”, she said.
I sensed she wanted to talk and raised myself to allow her room to sit. She put her arms around me, giving me a motherly hug. I could feel pressure from her hand on my chest to lay back down placing my head in her lap. She began to massage my head as she so often did. I’d always like this position as it is the classic nursing position and if I could not nurse, at lease I could lightly feel her huge breasts against the side of my face. I closed my eyes and started to relax thinking of only the feeling of her soft breast against my face and how close I was to almost being in a position to nurse. Mom straightened herself up a bit to sit a little more erect, which unfortunately put my head further toward her knees and away from her chest. I no longer had the soft breast-flesh feeling against my face but was sure not to show my disappointment, less I lose even the comfortable position I had. I loved getting my head massage. It was a great stress reliever in itself and I figured mom thought this would be just as good as allowing me to suckle her.
I could tell she had an itch or something as she began fidgeting with her free hand, but with my yes closed, I kept imagining the relaxing closeness I was feeling. The back of her free hand brushed the side of my face, as she seemed to move it between my head and her breast. As she stopped massaging and began to cradle my head, she tried to turn me toward her chest a bit. I thought she needed me to move positions and opened my eyes to the largest and darkest areola and nipple I have ever seen. She cradled my head closer to her breast and positioned the nipple close to my lips, gently initiating nipple contact with my lips. I opened my mouth to speak but before I could get a word out, she pushed her massive *** toward me as if trying to make me get a good latch. Instinctively, I did latch on. Her nipple seemed like it took up most of my mouth as I started to massage it with my tongue and remembered the technique babies use to draw milk from their mother’s breasts. I didn’t feel as though I really had a good latch and let go just long enough to open my mouth as wide as possible and relatch onto her breast, once again massaging the nipple with my tongue and forcing it towards the back of my mouth. I made every effort to try to remember to truly milk the nipple with my tongue, drawing from the base of the nipple as to force the would be nectar towards the nipple end. Mom’s breast was so large, she had to use her hand to keep the ***-flesh away from my nose so I could breathe, just like if I was a nursing baby. I continued to gently suckle working to draw her nipple further into my mouth. I could feel the nipple becoming engorged and full inside my mouth as I nursed. I could think of nothing but drawing her mothers milk into my mouth and if there had been any, I surely would have. It was so relaxing to lie there suckling. Thoughts of milk beginning to flood my mouth allowed me to maintain the correct suckling motions. I began to listen, as my mother’s breathing became heavier. I increased the pressure of the suckling and she faintly began to whimper. She held me tightly and slowly moved my head closer to her breast. I realized that she was getting more than she bargained for and continued my suckling strength as it was. She continued to whimper softly and I knew she was going to want more. Every now and then, I would take a long suck and I would hear her moan faintly. Her nipple was much thicker and stretched from when it first entered my mouth. I was afraid she would be sore so I slowly began to back off of the suckling, kind of like I was finishing. Though I cherished this nursing experience, I did not want it to be a one-time thing if I had my way. A couple of strong suckles at the end and I released the areola and nipple from my mouth. The nipple was so elongated at this point at least an inch to inch and a half long and looked to be boated. Through the dark brown coloring of her nipple, I could see the redness which might eventually turn to soreness.
Then in a flash, I felt like such an idiot. How could I be so stupid to not know this was going to happen? In all my reading and research about breastfeeding, I knew that nursing tops typically had pleats in them. This new gown should have been a hint to me once I saw the pleats. I could have looked for the openings at times but vainly thought the pleats were just a bother. In actuality, they were the openings that would ultimately allow me to suckle discreetly. Mom looked down at me and smiled.
“I see what the breastfeeding books mean about the relaxation and stress relief of nursing”, she quipped. “I wanted so much to help you with your anxiousness but, there is a fine line between nursing you at this age and sex. If we can maintain that separation, I wouldn’t have a problem nursing you when you need it”.
No way! I didn’t just hear that. I started to speak but was cut off.
“I loved nursing”, she began. “I only wish I had nursed all of you and for as long as you wanted instead of bowing to pressure to wean you. I felt such a wonderful feeling when I was producing milk. The fullness of my breasts, but especially the tingling from when my milk let down”.
This was my “in”.
“Did you produce a lot of milk”, was my comeback?
“I guess so”, was her reply. “Of course I had nothing to compare it to so I’m not sure. All I know is that when I was nursing, I always had plenty of milk for the baby at that time”.
She continued, “I guess you could say I did. I never went back to my original breast size once I stopped nursing and with one of your brothers, I had milk a year and a half after I weaned him”.
“That’s neat. If you were thinking of being a wetnurse, I bet you could relactate fairly easily”. I was thinking off the top of my head now, hoping to lead this discussion at a point I had been aiming for in the beginning.
“I was thinking about that myself”, she stated. “The reading says it is common among women who adopt and want to nurse. I think that is truly fascinating”.
I started to press the point but realized that I had won a short victory and did not want to press my luck. Getting mom to relactate would have to wait for another time. Little baby steps. That’s my motto when it comes to something like this. I did confirm that she would allow me to suckle her when I felt stressed. That was great in itself and I would be sure to be more stressed out than normal. I aced the Calc mid-term. Mom was so glad that she had been able to help and was more than willing to nurse me on demand, more or less. Soon, I will get up enough nerve to ask her about relactating. I’m hoping she will revisit a time where she produced a lot of milk and enjoyed it. Then I will be able to enjoy it too. For maybe the second time.
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