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I awoke to cold and an alarm clock.
Shifting a bit, I realized I’d leaked milk all over the bed. I guessed that I’d eventually rolled off of Gary after making love, although I had no recollection of that, and now his alarm clock was telling him it was time to get up and go to work. As he rolled out of bed, I rolled to the side, found my bra and pads on the floor, and sat up to put them on, knowing that Sean was probably going to sleep for another couple of hours. I shifted to the side of the bed, away from the wet spot, only to have Gary, moments later, now dressed, and ready for work, sit on the side of the bed. I opened my eyes.
“I liked that last night,” he said, his hand coming up to caress the side of my face. “My hot little wife.” I didn’t say anything. He leaned down, and my lips met his in a goodbye kiss. “We’ll talk tonight.” I just smiled and nodded and told him to drive carefully.
All day long, my nighttime nipple induced orgasm was on my mind. Sure, Gary had gotten me off afterward, but after the first — it had been like eating a cake without icing: still good, but I knew it could be better. When I fed Sean later, that familiar tingle was there. After shifting sides, I tried playing with my other bare nipple, but it wasn’t the same. When I gave him his afternoon feeding, I masturbated at the same time. Slipping my hand into my panties, I found and played with my clit, my finger stimulating from the outside with the tingling from Sean stimulating from the inside — but the clitoral orgasm wasn’t nearly what the previous night’s nipple-induced orgasm had been.
~
“What got into you last night?” Gary asked, sliding up behind me in the shower as we were getting ready for bed. He pulled himself against me, his hands cupping my breasts momentarily before sliding down to my belly.
“I think that may have been the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had,” I told him, spinning in his arms, and reaching for his cock. I raised my lips to his, and within seconds had him hard, his fingers finding and caressing my clit, and even though we hadn’t planned it when we’d stepped together into the shower, I had him in me with my back against the wall. Gary seldom left me wanting, but although this time I came, my orgasm was definitely clitoral in origin — and I knew I wanted more. Like the good husband that he was, he pulled out just before he pumped his sperm all over my ass. Withdrawal is almost a sure way to make babies, I just hoped he hadn’t spilled enough seed in me for that.
“It was so different,” I told him after we’d gotten out and dried and were making dinner. “You never let me down, but that time, with you and Sean both sucking on my nipples? I don’t know how to describe it. It wasn’t that you were tantalizing my clit, it was from inside, from behind my clit. I mean, I could feel my clit throbbing when I came, but it was all from inside.”
Gary didn’t say anything for several minutes. “Must be something like a wet dream.”
I hadn’t thought that he would be trying to equate to something that he knew, until then. “What? What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “I’ve never told anyone this. I didn’t know what masturbation was until I had a wet dream. I guess I’d reached puberty, but I didn’t know what that was either. I’d been having… these dreams… again and again. Maybe for a week or more. Dreaming of naked girls, touching naked girls, having them touch me. Things that I knew were naughty, that I wasn’t supposed to want. I’d had a hard-on for days, but couldn’t get it to go away. I’d touched myself several times but hadn’t masturbated. And then one night, it happened. I orgasmed in my sleep, all without touching myself.” He stopped and turned from the stove. “It was so intense, and all from inside my mind.” He grabbed a large stirring spoon and turned back to the stove. “I immediately understood what masturbation was, but I’ve never had an orgasm as intense as that one was since.”
~~
“Hello,” Joy said to the middle-aged woman who greeted her, “I uh, I’ve never done this before, but my mom was helped out when I was a baby… and if I can help other mothers by donating my milk…”
“Oh, of course! That’s a common start. What’s your name?” The woman at the counter asked.
“Joy.”
“Welcome Joy. Your first baby?” she asked, reaching over and gently jostling Sean’s hair. “What a cutie.”
“Yeah, he’s our first.”
“Well, the first thing is to determine whether you have enough milk to donate. Of course, if you’re pumping, you’ll find your milk supply grows to the demand.”
“Supply doesn’t seem to be a problem,” Joy admitted, although saying nothing about how her supply had greatly increased with the help of her husband and his now-admitted addiction to savoring her milk. That she had grown quite addicted to orgasms from nothing more than the dual nipple stimulation from her husband and baby also wasn’t mentioned.
“We encourage you to come here to pump,” the woman explained after some preliminary discussion of how the milk bank bursa eskortlar worked, stepping towards a door and beckoning her to follow. “We’ve got several lactation rooms, where we can supply the breast pumps and milk containers. It’s actually better if you do it here as we have more control of the refrigeration and storage, although many mothers will pump at home or work and then drop it off here later. That works as long as you’ve got refrigeration. We haven’t got anyone here right now, though,” she said, opening one of several doors and letting her see the comfortable chair inside, before stepping over to another room and opening it, showing an almost identical setup, except that it had a couch rather than an individual chair. “As I said, we’ve got several lactation rooms, and our busiest times are in the mornings before women need to go to work, and again in the evenings, right after work. Probably 3 to 6 is our busiest time, whereas those women who need milk most often come in at any time of the day.”
“I’ve uh, been breastfeeding since my baby was born, and um, I’ve heard that some mothers sometimes have trouble feeding their babies and need help? My mom said I was that way, and that she had to have help from a wet nurse. I was thinking of volunteering as a wet nurse?”
“Oh, of course,” the woman responded, stopping to look at Joy a little closer. “That’s a pretty selfless offering. Not many mothers know they can offer such help to their fellow mothers anymore,” she said, holding the door open to lead back to the entry. “Of course, in our modern society, many new mothers seem to think there is something wrong with their baby feeding from another mother’s teat, but I assure you, the babies don’t know any different.”
“My mother told me she had problems when I was born. I was tongue-tied, and she needed a wet nurse to help for a few weeks. I know how easy it’s been for me, and I got to thinking of women who have twins or triplets and how maybe they could use some help?”
The woman nodded knowingly, and Joy felt her eyes on her, not understanding why she seemed to be appraising her a bit closer. “That’s not as common as one might think. How many triplets have you personally known in your life?” She paused, and when Joy began shaking her head slowly in a negative manner, she continued. “See? We hear about them and do occasionally get triplets and those mothers really can use some help, although twins are quite common. OK, so let’s see. What are you, about 23?”
“Yeah. Good guess,” Joy answered as she saw her note it on some form.
“Birthday?” Joy watched as she wrote this down, followed by, “Your mother is Mary?”
Joy almost answered, and then realized that she had not said anything about her mother and that the question of her age hadn’t seemed so much that she was asking, as confirming. “How did you know…”
The woman smiled, nodding her head slightly, knowingly. “I was your wet nurse twenty-three years ago.” She smiled. “I haven’t seen you since, but there haven’t been a whole lot of 23-year-old Joys that have come through the front door. I’m Carol.”
Immediately, everything that her mother had told her about Carol, the woman who had been her wet nurse, whose breasts she had suckled at, and whose breasts both her mother and father had suckled at, and who had watched her mother fucking her father, came to mind. At the same time, she found herself doing a closer appraisal of the woman now questioning her.
She’d assumed that, from her mother’s story, with 4-year-old twins, Carol must have been a few years older than her mother. Now at 23, the same age her mother had been when Joy was born, that would have made her maybe 27 at the time, so now Carol must be, what, maybe 50? Joy didn’t think she looked nearly that old, unconsciously she would have initially appraised her at perhaps late 30s, maybe 40? She had taken good care of herself and still had quite a firm body. Her breasts, probably a B cup, sat firmly behind a form-fitting polo shirt. Despite that neither she nor her mother had large breasts, somehow thinking about a woman being a wet nurse had, in her mind, included large breasts. She’d imagined D or even double D breasts for Carol, even though Joy’s own pre-pregnancy B cups had expanded to just a C cup.
“I can’t believe you remembered me.”
“I haven’t seen you or your mother and father in years. They’re still together?”
“Oh yeah, very much still together.” For the first time, Joy realized, with Carol’s mentioning her father, that all three of them had suckled on Carol’s boobs.
The small talk, unexpectedly catching up on what her parents had been doing for the last quarter century, changed when Carol asked, “So, volunteering as a wet nurse. First time, have you got any qualms? You know the history of wet nurses in the United States was highly racial. Especially in the South, where slaves were forced to be used as wet nurses, but also in the North: Boston and Baltimore and the like. It was the wealthier bursa bayan escort white women who hired poorer women, often black women, to nurse their children. Have you got any problems with any of that… any interracial qualms?”
“No, not at all.”
“Good. And all voluntary? Just wanting to help other mothers, or,” Joy barely heard the hesitation in her voice as she continued, “Have you discovered the magic?”
“Magic?” Joy repeated to clarify, pausing slightly in confusion, and then blushed as she realized Carol was referring to the orgasms she’d been experiencing with both Sean and her husband stimulating both nipples at the same time.
“It doesn’t happen for all of us,” Carol said, bypassing the awkward need for Joy’s response. “I had twins, but my God, it’s magical when it happens, isn’t it? Your husband?” Joy swallowed and slowly nodded, knowing that Carol had seen right through her inquiries about being a wet nurse and knowing what she really desired, having both breasts suckled at the same time. She knew without being told that Carol understood that her husband Gary had been supplying the dual stimulation so far.
“My husband never did get it, as far as he was concerned, my breasts were off limits until I… weaned everyone… and they dried up again.”
“I haven’t had that. When my Mom told me about what happened, I told my husband, Gary. He was a bit reluctant when I told him I needed his attention too, but I think he’s the reason I have so much milk.”
“That’s the way your mother was, too.”
“My mother? When she hired you to help?”
“No, after she hired me, of course. When we finally diagnosed you as tongue-tied, your mother’s milk supply hadn’t nearly developed enough to feed you. I helped feed you for several days, but it was your father who was the big help. Perhaps too much of a big help?” She giggled, smiling wryly.
“Yeah, I heard, he umm… developed a taste for milk?”
“It’s more common than you would think. I take it you’re interested in maybe making some extra income too?”
“Income?” Joy said, surprised at the open query, although she shouldn’t have been. Truth be told, if she’d been honest with herself when she was asking about twins or triplets needing a wet nurse, she was really hoping to be able to have a second baby to feed along with Sean, at the same time. The no-clit contact orgasms she was getting from Sean and Gary’s simultaneous sucking on her tits were at least once a day, but every time she fed Sean she also had an inordinate desire to have both nipples suckled, to appease the need that arose every time in her clit. That Gary had been spending more and more time suckling her tit, and drinking her milk himself, was much of the reason she now felt that she had milk to offer to others.
Later, she could look back at that moment and wonder how she didn’t immediately put it together, but for the moment, she didn’t understand Carol’s question.
“Oh. Your mother didn’t tell you. I assumed that since you were here, she must have…”
It suddenly clicked in her mind what Carol must be saying. Her mother said that Carol had told them she charged for breastfeeding, and assumed that her feeding was not for a baby and that she didn’t charge for babies — that babies she did for free. But, when her father had acquired a fetish for a mother’s milk, perhaps as much as Gary now had, he had paid to suck on Carol’s tits. And then it hit that her mother had admitted she, too, had sucked Carol’s nipples and had drunk Carol’s milk.
Joy just looked wide-eyed at Carol for a moment. Despite that, academically, she pretended not to have understood what Carol was saying, the gush of heat and wetness between her legs had confirmed that her body knew. “My mother… sold her milk?” In the back of her mind, she already knew the answer.
“Well, for the milk bank, it’s all voluntary and free to needy mothers. Those who can give, do, and those who need are free to use as they need. Later, if they can, they’re encouraged to pass on the benefit and volunteer milk before they wean their child. Usually, if a wet nurse is needed to travel or visit your home, a small stipend or travel expense money is recommended, but that’s up to the mother and the wet nurse.” She paused, obviously sizing up Joy. “But, if you’re not averse to making a little money like your mother did, you can also sell your milk.”
Joy nodded, not saying anything. What her mother had told her two months before came surging into her brain. She remembered that Carol had twin 4-year-old boys, that she’d started to wean them, and then found that she could make a little money on the side, making enough that she had been able to not immediately go back to work. But the comment about her mother, and her mother making money? This was something new.
“My mother?
“Hmm. You didn’t know.” Carol shook her head, pausing before continuing. “I can’t believe I blew it so bad. I’ve been doing this for over twenty years now, ever since I discovered the milk bank, and never have I inadvertently exposed someone’s personal information before. Can’t say as I’ve ever had a baby come back to be a wet nurse, either.”
She paused again, changing the subject. “There are many men who will pay to suckle at a woman’s breast. It requires a commitment to keep our milk supply up; we all dry up if we’re not providing that milk somewhere. Many of those who provide milk to the milk bank have, if not a lucrative, at least a supplemental income, feeding milk fetishists on the side.”
“Sex workers,” Joy stated, unconsciously putting a negative connotation on the words. While she had hoped for another baby to feed at the same time, she immediately realized it could be another man, another Gary, just like her husband.
“No, not sex workers, at least not in the traditional sense, but perhaps you can describe it as sex work. Most of the women aren’t interested in having sex with other men, although some will; it’s about the extra income. I’ve heard back about a lot of things that… happen. Some of the… volunteers… like to have sex while they’re… feeding… their clients. More often, the clients like to have sex with their spouses or lovers while they’re feeding.”
They were both silent for a moment before she continued, “It’s easy to be judgemental before you’ve been there, but I’ve gotten to where I’m just not judgmental at all. One of the good things about it is that it usually means they must keep feeding their baby at home to keep the milk supply up, and virtually all of the medical literature now indicates that mothers should keep breastfeeding for a minimum of two years. I breastfed my boys for four years, after that, it was almost impossible to keep my milk supply up”
“You… did men? Joy asked, already knowing the answer. “What made you do it?” She asked when Carol nodded, indicating she’d heard the question and was formulating an answer.
“A combination of things. We needed the money, I was going to have to go back to work, and the first time was strictly for the money. Letting some strange man suck my tit, and then letting another almost immediately after suck the other — it didn’t do much for me. But then a few days later, we needed some more money and I went back. That time, two men were waiting and when they suggested they weren’t afraid to do it at the same time, well, it was virtually the same as with my twins. I’d previously discovered that when feeding both boys at the same time, I would often orgasm without even touching myself, and I did that time too, just that it was from two grown men. They virtually sucked me dry, but two hours later, I did it again with my boys.”
Joy blushed, knowing that the real reason she had come in like this was that she wanted to have both nipples sucked at the same time, to experience another nipple orgasm as she had with Sean and Gary, and it was as if Carol was looking right into her mind.
“Your baby and your husband?” Joy didn’t even think about the question from Carol; she just found herself nodding, unconsciously admitting she’d orgasmed when both nipples were stimulated.
“My husband never liked my milk, but with the twins, I didn’t need him that way. But my nipples couldn’t tell the difference between a baby and a grown man. But once I discovered non-clitoral orgasms, I couldn’t get enough. Does your husband know?”
“What?” Joy responded, realizing Carol had asked a question.
“Does your husband know you’re here?”
“I haven’t told him.”
Carol nodded knowingly. “I think most women don’t before they come here the first time. I would encourage you to tell him, though. Most men don’t understand to begin with; they assume that their wives are getting sex here. I won’t say that doesn’t happen, I know some women have gotten carried away, and I’m pretty sure it has happened a time or two. Most women end up bringing their spouses along, at least the first few times. Once they see how it works, and that their wives aren’t just fucking strange men, they seem to get better with the idea of collecting milk money.”
“Milk money?” Joy asked, not understanding the term.
Carol laughed. “Yeah, that’s what we call it. Back when we were kids, we could buy milk at school, so every day we took a nickel or dime with us so we could buy milk — our ‘milk money’. Those of us… providing… this service for men, call it ‘milk money.’ Joy nodded in understanding.
“So,” she started, looking around the small office, “how, um, how does this happen? You don’t do it here… do you?”
“Not in this office, but yes, here in this building. Not me, though. I dried up years ago.” Carol looked at Joy momentarily, appraising whether she was still interested, and then stood. “Come with me.”
Joy stood and followed her. Stepping back into the foyer, they again went through the attached door and into the hall of lactation rooms. Stepping to the end of the short hallway, when they turned the corner, there was another door, this time locked with a combination keypad. Opening that door, beyond were three additional doors, this time with keypad locks on each. Touching a combination on the first, the door swung open to show a large couch and an apparent privacy dressing barricade.