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A normal girl. A normal night. Until she's kidnapped and forced to be a baby.
~a non-sexual ddlg story~
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when (name) (last name) moves to Japan and starts attending St.machiliv school the young shy introvert gets dragged into a world of athos, marias and the secret power o...
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Disclaimer: All charac...
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A Beautiful Love Story Of Two Beautiful Boys ❣️❣️
Tyler Oakley and Troye Sivan are expecting.

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My step sister had a baby and I was there to visit her because school was out for the summer . I did not want to go and see her I wanted to hang out with my buddies . Went to my step sister's house and she was breast feeding her son ,this was the first time I have ever seen a real breast ! I got so hard watch the baby suck on her big nipple . I enjoyed watching her breast feed her baby many times threw out the day . She did not cover her breast she took her shirt off and expose both her breast . When she took her shower she left the door open , so she could hear if the baby cry's . I was enjoying watching my step sister in the nude , every time she walk her b**** jiggled side to side . One day she fell asleep with her breast exposed and I wanted to know what it felt like to suck on her big nipples and wanted to taste her milk . I walked over and put my face on her breast and started licking her nipple they got hard fast . I could not stop myself and started rubbing her breast as well . She woke up and looked at me and said what are you doing ! I said I I wanted to know what your milk taste like and she smiled and said ok try it . So I sucked on them didn't like the milk and told her I want to taste her p**** and she said I don't know . I told her I thought I might be gay and need to see if girls turn me on . I pretended to cry and she felt bad and said let's see if your gay or not . She takes her clothes off and spreads her legs and pointed to were I am to lick . So I did and she was moaning and very wet . I pull my pants down and stick it in her before she could says no . After we had s** she said so do you think your still gay ? I told her I need to try again , 2 months later and I am still undecided . (This is not real it's a s** story )

I WROTE THIS GUESS NO ONE SAW THE (This is not real it's a s** story ) AT THE END OF MY STORY TO BUSY J********** I UNDERSTAND

A girl can have a pretty face but if she dose not have at least a c cup then I won't date her , Sorry lady's but small b**** are a turn off . I want to play f*** and suck and rub b**** . Stick my d*** between her b**** and shoot a load in her face .

A cousin let me try her breast milk and later a friends mom let me try hers. The friends mom and I got it on a month later.

Cousin s** is awesome. Just saying.

I to let our neighbor who was 14 at the time nurse from me after I lactated after failing to deliver my child. God my b****** were so swollen and when he caught me milking myself he helped and that led to him nursing on me and 5 times a day he nursed and I kept making more and more milk and the more I made the more he took and it was like a vicious circle . My nipples were constantly dripping embarrassing me at times for my blouse would get wet from my milk at the most inopportune times. Jerry my neighbor tried to keep up with me but he couldn't and what made matters worst his mom caught on to him cuz he was gaining so much weight. Going on the fourth month now and I now have 2 kids nursing on me. But that's not all they are doing as well. BUT that's another story

Jerry had to be c****** every time he drank your milk!

Can u please breastfeeds to me. because my mother not to breastfeeds me more than 4 months and due to this reason i am still hungry for milk.please someone help me...its my bold request to u.....plz

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Published March 2, 2009 9:10AM (EST)

Related Topics ------------------------------------------
Love And Sex
Motherhood
New Mom Confessions
Sex

On Thanksgiving Day my boyfriend walked out the door. Our daughter was seven months old, and I'll never know for sure what put him over the edge. He was bipolar. He drank. He was fragile. He didn't leave a forwarding address.
This was a time when I believed that love would overcome anything. Well, it certainly overcame me. The very first thing I did, even before crying, was to sit down on the living room rug and nurse my daughter, M. Nursing was my landing pad. It was the place where my milk could turn my anger into white, warm calmness. Nursing had the same soothing effect on my baby, no matter how hungry, agitated, red-faced and cranky she was at the start. Nothing beat nursing.
No matter how alone I felt, those times that M. lay on my chest, her tiny hands kneading my breasts, milk flowing from me, I knew that I could do this alone. Not only did nursing nourish M., it nourished me. But it wasn't long after her father split town -- as M.'s first birthday approached without a sign from him, I knew he wasn't coming back -- that friends started to ask me, "When are you going to get back out there?"
As in date? They had to be kidding. Not only was I a 29-year-old single mom with dishes in the sink and baby clothes with stains I'd never actually scrub out, but I breastfed "on demand." How in the world could I even think about hooking up with some hot man when my cha-chas were making milk?
"But look at you!" my girlfriends (who were all married) said to me. "You’re attractive, and you're young."
Maybe they were right. About getting back out there, anyway. As the months passed, I started to notice men: our building manager -- who gave M. stuffed animals and called her "Little Guacamole" -- and the UPS man, who rolled his packages past me.
Still, noticing men in the hallway was not the same as dating them. I'm grateful that back then I did not sit down at my computer and type lactating and dating into Google. If I had, I never would have gone on a date. Because recently, while writing this essay, I turned to my computer to do some research, in hopes of finding a thoughtful example of what it means to balance these two acts. I hoped to come across a first-person essay in Redbook about a mother's deep feelings, something to inspire me as I worked.
One of the first things that came up, however, was a site called MilkMyTits.com. Men were looking for "mature women willing to breastfeed me."
Gross. I kept scrolling through the sites that Google brought up; there had to be something. But they were all the same: white men in their forties, in search of sweet breast milk. My breasts had always been one of the most sensual parts of me. Before motherhood, when a man put his lips around my nipple, it made my body rain -- not a light sprinkle, either. If I slept with a man as a nursing mom, my breasts would rain on him. Perhaps, after undressing, I could open my closet, pull out an umbrella, and hand it to him: "You might need this ..."
I couldn't remember if I'd slept with M.'s father in the weeks before he'd left for good. If I had, I didn't remember the details. He was shut down and hungover; I was absorbed with my baby. I lived in the world of womanhood for years, and now I was a mother. But who says that you can't live in both worlds? Some mothers I knew wore bras to bed because they didn't want to leak on the mattress -- or their husbands. That's how they divided their realms. But I wanted to be a woman who lived in both worlds; I wanted to be the kind of woman who didn't care if she spurted.
One of my best friends in New York City told me that she wanted to set me up on a blind date. Ironically, she was the same friend who, in 2002, was thrown out of the public library in Manhattan for breastfeeding her daughter. She'd been nursing in an empty reading room, when a female security guard screamed at her to "take that outside." The guard didn't know that my friend, Susan Light, was a lawyer who took it straight to the media, after which the library expressed "deep regret" over the incident and immediately sent a memo to remind staff of the right of women to breastfeed.
"I want to date, but I can't," I told my friend.
"What would I wear?" I huffed. "A nursing bra?"
"No, really," I said. "I'd have to bring my pump along, for after my drink."
Little did my mother-friend know that the blind date she wanted to set me up with might have had a breastfeeding fetish. She told me that he was a lawyer, too, "a cute one." After chatting on the phone with the lawyer -- his call woke me as I fell asleep while nursing M. in the bed we share -- I decided to go for it. I've always considered myself to be open-minded about anything intimate. Maybe I was rebelling against my Catholic mother, but I certainly was not a prude. I decided that I'd keep the date short and sweet -- and I'd nurse before leaving so (I hoped) I wouldn't leak.
The following Friday, after enlisting another girlfriend to baby-sit, I dashed out the door to meet the lawyer at a bar. When I got inside, he waved. I didn't see the cuteness -- he had a receding hairline -- but maybe I was too nervous.
Still, he did the right thing: He asked if I had a photo of M., and when I pulled one from my wallet, he used the word adorable.
"She is," I said. "I'm late because I was nursing her before bed --"
That's when I noticed the sparkle in his eyes. Maybe I'd misread? But no.
"A woman who's lactating!" he said, way too loudly. "What a turn-on!"
I waited for the punch line, but he was not joking. I've always had this untactful knack for blurting out details that shock people -- I do it without thinking. Why did I tell him that I was breastfeeding? Nursing was such an essential part of who I was, it was like telling someone, "The sitter was running late, I'm sorry --"
It's always after the fact when I realize I should be wearing a soft muzzle. The lawyer's enthusiasm was a sure giveaway that I'd said too much. I didn't know if I should crawl under the table or give him a high-five. Was I flattered or freaked out? Or a little of both?
But the truth was, if any possible romantic date of mine was squeamish about the fact that I was breastfeeding, I did need to know this up front. I mean, if I hadn't said anything, and then all of a sudden he looked down and noticed the wet spots on my blouse, that would have been interesting.
If you've ever breastfed, you know that just thinking about nursing can, well, have certain consequences. My breasts were flooding with milk. I had no control over it, and when I looked down, there was a damp spot on my chest.
Maybe it was all in the name of discovery, but perhaps more important, I liked the fact that this man acknowledged who I was: a woman as well as a nursing mother. He could have overlooked that wet spot on my blouse. He could have glanced at his watch, embarrassed, and said, "I'd better get home."
At the time I wasn't interested in having him -- or anyone, for that matter -- as a companion. I was an unse
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