A Breastfeeding Mother

Mom's Perspective: The Experiment

Everything was going according to plan until the State went into lockdown. The laboratory had to be temporarily closed and the research team was ordered to work from home.

The experimental drug made Elizabeth's breasts swollen and filled with milk, since they were now deprived of the industrial strength pumps in the laboratory.

She milked herself twice a day in her bedroom, having been supplied with breast pumps, small sealable bags, and a cooling container for transport. Each sample of her milk was invaluable as they represented gradual changes in her body. Her basement freezer was full of bags which had been carefully marked with the date.

There was just one problem; her milk supply seemed to be associated with heightened sexual activity. Technicians in the labs typically helped her navigate that snafu. Now that she was isolated, it was more of a challenge.

The Masala Moment

 It all came to be because the house was full. Children were visiting with their own toddlers and his father had come to visit them. And because the house was full Deepu couldn't get enough of his wife Paromita. And because he couldn't get enough he was like an untamed bull.

And that led to the brash decision to fuck on the kitchen floor. The rest of what followed was not known to him.

She was sitting on the kitchen floor, grinding masala for tomorrow's hilsa fish curry and it was late night. As it is with Bengali households dinner ended late. One by one all the family members went to bed and the lady of the house, after clearing the dishes and putting away things was getting a lead on next day's intended menu.

She sat on the floor, her saree pulled up naturally and was using the heavy grinding stone on the slab below to make the masala paste for tomorrow. A day in advance not only saved time but also somehow made the mix more pungent and potent.

She would wake her husband early to go get the fish fresh from the first catch. As he came by she opened her mouth to say just that. But he had come not to be told an early morning errand. He had come to see what his Paru was doing. And there she was, dress pulled up and by accident so far up that he could practically see the deep dark recesses where he loved to linger.

Returning Home to My Sexy Indian Mother

As I stood outside my home in the beating rain at 11 pm, waiting for my mother to open the door, the only thing I could think of was what my mother would be wearing.

Because the last time I had come home from college, mom opened the door in just a towel that barely covered her 36D sized breasts and her thick hips. I feasted my eyes on her milky white thighs for the first time that day, and the rest of my vacation days were spent trying to get a glimpse of her in that position, but in vain.

After what seemed like an eternity, I could hear the latches opening on the other side of the door. Mom opened the door in a hurry, and it was evident that I had woken her up from a deep sleep.

"Sorry mom, I had to wake you up from your sleep" I apologised, sheepishly and walked inside the home, placing my damp bag by the side of the door.

"Oh, shush." Mom said, shutting the door behind me. "I'm just glad you arrived safely, at this time" She said, picking up a towel to dry my hair. She turned on the lights in our little 1BHK, and I was immediately awestruck. Mom's nighty zip had come astray, and her left boob was spilling out of her clothes. My throat went dry and I couldn't get a damn word out of my mouth.

First Cums Granny, Then Cums Mom

Chapter 1: I'm Coming Home

The new job in Mumbai nearly cost me my sanity and all of my life savings. It was the wrong time to move to a new city. But I didn't know that when I made the move. The first nationwide lockdown was imposed within a week of me shifting to the strange city - which came as a massive blow to my plans.

Another crisis fell upon me in the form of a 30% salary deduction for an indefinite time. I had to tighten my already tight budget. The company was slyly palming off it's losses to us lowly employees. Two months later I was let go.

Living frugally and stretching my limited savings for as long as I could had a serious impact on my financial and mental health. I was lonely, depressed and had become extremely irritable. With virtually no human contact for nearly half a year, it felt like I was losing touch with reality and the drive to find a new job was waning ever so slowly.

It took me another three months to find a new job. Owing to my insecurities and deteriorating mental health, I was unable to concentrate. My manager was kind enough to give me a week's leave while I moved back to my home -- a small town some 400 kms away and settled down. Little did I know that this week would change my life forever.

How I Milked My Mother

 "Awwww! she looks so cute." my mom went all excited at once seeing my sister Radha and her little daughter entering the house.

I put the bags inside and crashed on couch tired of the cab journey from airport. My sister's husband Rahul sat beside me on couch and we started talking casually. Even though I didn't spend much time with him to know him fully, I already knew that he's friendly and unlike many son-in-laws here in our society. My sister and mom went to kitchen continuing to talk and started to prepare for lunch. Despite the fact that my sister's family lives in another state, they come visit us once in two months at least and after Shraddha's birth, my sister frequently came here and that's a huge thing for my mom obviously. It's been 7 years since our father died and since then our mom started to raise us and found a nice guy for my sister and let her settle, while I'm still in my final year of graduation.

Mother's Sweet Nectar

 When my mom was in college she went to different parts of South America, usually small villages, and it changed her in a lot of ways, one of which was her views on breastfeeding. In her travels she saw that a lot of the women helped out in that field — if one mother was busy, or not producing, a wet nurse (as we'd call them in America), would always be there to help, whether it be a relative or somebody in the village who also had a newborn.

This seemed to spur something in my mom, something maternal, a longing to give child-giving nutrients to offspring the way these women were. It's not that surprising that she married my dad a year upon her return at twenty-one, and quickly had me, eager to partake in the nursing process with her own child.

My mother never had the biggest breasts in the world, but looking at the pictures shortly before my birth and after, you would have never known — filled with milk, engorged by the process of my coming to being, they expanded to pretty incredible size, enough to draw stares in public. And apparently the release of the milk, the actual feeding of me, was everything she thought it might be in her imagination — she weaned me late, and losing that source of goodwill, the pleasure that came from feeding me, caused her to spiral into a pretty serious depression. She soon left my dad, and when he relocated to the nearest city — leaving everything behind besides monthly alimony payments — it was just the two of us for the most part.

She was perfectly stunning, Nordic in every sense — long blonde hair, an endless pair of legs that carried a sheen to them as if they never had an imperfection; and those breasts, so big they seemed to take any shirt she might be wearing as an affront, as if they wanted to prove they could push through the fabric, their full form showing no matter how many layers she had on. Yet those looks were counteracted by her gloominess. Guys never seemed to approach her because of her iciness with anyone but myself. When it wasn't the two of us, or if she was out in public, she was locked away in her own melancholy, her own cage of darkness.

Which was why I was so surprised to see her suddenly . . . smiling. It was a few weeks after my high school graduation when she began returning home with an extra bounce, both figuratively and literally. She was constantly flashing a huge smile, and her breasts somehow seemed even larger than usual. I had no idea what was going on until I went into the kitchen one morning. It was Sunday, and a neighbor of ours was mowing the lawn early enough to hear it through my window and I couldn't go back to sleep. I went to get some cereal and couldn't really believe what I saw: my mom in the kitchen, her heaving breasts laid out over the countertop. Her bra was pulled down and she was holding her left one with two hands, pumping it, and to my surprise, producing milk.

Beneath her exposed tit was a bottle, and I had no idea she could produce milk, let alone why she would.

"Mom?!" I said, more out of sheer shock than anything.

"Wesley!" My mom said as she tried to conceal herself, failing miserably — she covered the space of her nipple extended, but the top and bottom halves popped over her arms, nearly concealing them entirely in their doughy folds. "You're usually asleep this early. You're always asleep this early!"

I quickly concealed my eyes and looked away as she put her top back on and put the bottle aside.

"Well not always, ha?!" I said. "Now you want to tell me what is going on?" I asked. "Or not, maybe I don't want to know."

"No, it's fine," she said.

Aching For Mother's Milk

 My twenty-one year old son has difficulty turning his gaze away from my breasts. Not that he ever made attempts to do so in the past, but now that they're constantly leaking milk, it seems even harder for him not to gawk. You couldn't blame him; after knocking me up, my already heaving tits have only gotten bigger. The doctor says the leaking is normal, something many mothers go through, but it's hard to imagine that the size of my breasts had no impact on that front – it was as if they were already at capacity, and the stores of milk released themselves at a slow drip, drip, drip, just to alleviate the pressure.

I could be reading the paper in the morning and finish an article to find droplets of milk on the paper before me, my top damp where my nipples stood at attention. James would be sitting before me, a devilish smile on his face. "Just move your coffee cup over a few inches over and you can save yourself the half and half," he'd say.

Once when watching a movie with James' head in my lap, the smallest touch of his head nestled against my bosom caused me to moan, and I found my tits leaking in relief, forming a small circle of moisture on his shoulder the size of a quarter. He'd said it was fine, but for me it was embarrassing, and I jumped up to get a paper towel to wipe him off.

Please Drink Mommy's Milk

I couldn't believe that my POS dad would leave my beautiful and sexy mother (Jessica), after 19 years of marriage for his 20-something assistant. It didn't help matters that my mom was nine months pregnant, and fixing to pop-out my baby sister. Mom's unexpected pregnancy stunned everyone, especially me!

My name is Robert Jr. "Bobby," and I'm eighteen and about to graduate from high school. I'm 6 feet, 180lbs; blue eyes, short brown hair, muscular build, lightly-tanned skin, and blessed with a perpetually hard 9" cock!

I thought that I would be an only child; until my mom shockingly announced that she was pregnant about 7-8 months ago. Dad immediately blamed her for not getting her tubes tied after my birth! I didn't realize how badly their marriage had deteriorated, until Dad packed his shit and left a couple of weeks ago. I begged him to stay at least until after the birth, but laughed and said that I was the man of the house now.

Mom was having difficulties at the end of her pregnancy, and spent a lot of time either crying or vomiting. I promised myself that I would step up to the plate, and be the man whom my POS dad wouldn't. I spent most of my time before and after school taking care of my mother the best that I could. I cooked, cleaned, and even massaged her swollen feet and ankles. I also became my mom's birthing coach, and attended her Lamaze classes. However, I was way too shy and squeamish to join her in the delivery room.

My Stepmother's Milk

 My father remarried a few years after divorcing my mom. He literally ran into another woman on his way out of the court house. Depressed and in need of company, he invited the woman out for coffee the next morning.

I didn't get to see Pamela for a few months. I knew my father was going out with her, but she never really came around the house. They always went out. After returning home one drunken night my father confided in me that he didn't want to bring another woman around the house if she wasn't going to last. He said that I didn't need that, especially after just losing my mother.

My father had expected his tryst with Pamela to be nothing more than a fling, but they managed to last months longer than he originally planned. Soon, those months turned into years, and the two of them decided to get married.

Once my father was sure he was going to be with Pam for at least a little while, she started coming over a lot more. And I began to notice something: her tits were huge. They were much bigger than any I had ever seen before. They seemed to defy gravity, standing out from her chest in perfect round orbs, and they bounced slightly with every step she took.

Milk Donation

 Mary placed the final plate on the dining table and examined the spread she'd made. There was everything a growing boy might need, and more. Probably too much more. Sighing happily, she called for her son, Adam, to come join her.

"Coming!" came his call from his room.

Mary sat herself down and started to spoon mashed potatoes, green beans and a pork chop on to her plate. The smells of her own cooking had her belly aching with hunger, so she dove in without waiting for her son. He'd probably be a few minutes anyways.

After the predicted few minutes, Adam made his appearance, eagerly sitting down and grabbing from dishes around the table. "This is too much, Mom," he said.

"I know, but we can put the leftovers in the fridge. You can take it for lunch tomorrow."

"I don't have a microwave at school, you know that," he replied, spooning mashed potatoes into his mouth.

"Well, we can have it for dinner tomorrow then." Mary paused her eating to watch with immense satisfaction as Adam devoured his plate of food. She made it her life's pursuit to ensure that he was never hungry, never wanting for food to fill his belly, and yet he never seemed to gain weight. He was thin, but muscular, always on the move. She hoped he never got a desk job, because he was sure to balloon up. His father had done so, to the point where he'd died from a heart attack sitting at work.

Once dinner was done, they worked together to clean up the dishes.

"You know, you won't be able to eat like this when you go to college. You better appreciate it now," she told him with a smile.

"I always appreciate your cooking, Mom. I'll make sure to come home regularly to fill up."

"You better."

"Would it really be so bad if I went hungry for a day? I won't die."

"Sssh. You know how I am about that stuff. Even 18-year-old boys need to eat."

Her son rolled his eyes at her, making her laugh. "I know, Mom. Believe me, I know."

Lactating Breasts with Mom (Lactating Breasts, Mom's Relief)

Laura had suspicions when she told her son about the experiment she'd be doing from home.  She was a lawyer for a major corporation, and with the creation of a new drug to help mothers produce breast milk, she needed to do first hand research before giving advice on legal matters.

Her suspicion was that her son was a bit too eager for this, especially upon hearing how her breasts would soon change.  Her son was a biology major in college, so she was hopeful that this would also be a learning experience for him.

She came home from the office, carrying a box full of the medication, a breast pump, and cups for her milk.  The upcoming month was going to be interesting.  She'd be a lactating woman once again.

The first day of the process was simple. She took the pills three times; morning, afternoon, and night. The lactation hadn't started yet so she still had normalcy in her life. The second day of the process was much the same. She took the pills on time and waited. According to the research, it could take 4-5 days to see any results. Same with the third day.

The fourth day was when Laura noticed the effects of the medication, going to her bathroom and standing in front of the mirror with her breasts exposed.  Her tits were large and curved like globes.

Married to My Son

My name is Mrs. Suryakantam. I am from South India, and I migrated to US two years back with my new husband Ramesh. We have a beautiful daughter Putri who is 19 months old this month. The reason for writing my story is tell you my little secret. My new husband Ramesh is in fact my own son. He married me, his own mother, before bringing me to US as his wife. How it all happened? Please read on!

 

I was married to Ramesh's dad Rao when I was 18. Ours is an arranged marriage and after one year, I gave birth to Ramesh. My husband insisted on having only one child even though I wanted more. So, he got his operation done after Ramesh. Ramesh grew up like a good lad and became an engineer. Six years ago, he came to US and settled here.

 

My story actually started about 2 years ago. I can never forget that day when my husband left me at the hospital. He had a stroke at home when he was getting ready for work and all hell got loose for me. It was the worst day of my life. We notified about his death to Ramesh, and he came to India within two days. Our relatives picked Ramesh up from the airport and they all came to the native village where we brought Rao's body for his last rites. I saw Ramesh as he hurried towards me as soon as he got down from the car and I could not hold myself but to cry as I fell in his arms. The crying was unstoppable for both of us as everybody around us tried to console us. It was a sad emotional moment I will never forget.

 

Kantam's Ordeal

Hello, my name is Kantam and this story is an incident of my life.

I am married to my husband about 25 years ago when I was 18 and we have a son, Ramesh who is 24 now. My story happened last December. It was a terrible night and our house was broken into when we were sleeping at night. Ramesh's dad went on a business trip two days before. At about 2 am there were some knocks on the door. We both, Ramesh and I, woke up but were afraid to open. Then Ramesh said it could be dad so he went and opened the door. I stayed in my bedroom as I saw 5 men barging into the house pushing Ramesh. Before Ramesh could do anything they were all inside and closed the door behind them. Then one of them said 'Give us all you got'. Ramesh started to fight them but they all overpowered him and before I got up to help him, it was all over. Then the same guy said 'Do as we say and we won't hurt you' Then I told Ramesh standing at my room door 'Give them what they want Ramesh!' and I pleaded the men 'Please don't hurt us'. The men all looked at me, turned to Ramesh and said 'Who is she?' Ramesh did not spoke for a while as they raised their hands I finished saying 'Mother! I am his mother!' By now I am completely terrified and getting to my limits to start crying.

Irresistible Mother Padma

Ever since my childhood dad used to be always on tours abroad for his business and I lived with my mother. This brought us both very close. My mother was very broad minded and liberal in her behaviour with me. She never used to mind my presence while she changed sarees. And as I grew up I started carving for her. She was 5’3", plump Indian woman with a silken complexion resembling marble.

By the time I got 26 it became impossible for me not to make love to her. She was 49 and had put on a bit extra flesh due to age and that made her look more desirable. It was a feast to my eyes to watch her buxom bosom sway in her saree pallu, her full round mature bottom sizzle in her chiffon sarees. My mother used to wrap sarees low on her white satin belly blowing her hot navel. Her navel was my week-point. She had one bewitching navel!

That day it was her 50th birthday and I thought it to be my best chance to woo her. I went to her bedroom in the morning, "Many many happy returns of the day, Amma(mommy)." I said. She looked pale. I knew she was missing dad on her special day. She just looked at me and kept silent. I went close to her bed where she was reading something and said, "Come on Amma. You should celebrate your golden jubilee…." She was almost into tears, "Anand…you will not understand a woman’s sorrow. You are too young for that. I took her hand in mine and said,I am not a kid anymore, Amma. I do understand how much you miss dad today. But you know he is always so busy, Amma. Why don’t you deal with your life wisely? I am going to get mad, Anand. I don’t understand how to live such a lonely life? I have no way out either, Anand." Amma said.

A Son's Love

 You can call me Ramesh and I have no guilt in saying I am a motherfucker. In fact I enjoy being a mother fucker. In my opinion there is no other cunt in this world better than mother's cunt for fulfilling our carnal desires. For me, my mom's heavily fucked baby-making pussy is more tastier than an eighteen year old girl pussy.

Growing up as a son in India, I was always taught to revere my mother. In fact mothers are even held higher than god! Hence we have a lot of respect and closeness towards our mothers. Mothers also develop a very close relationship with their sons and even after they become men! They even become very protective against their son's wife.

I always thought it is a normal thing for every son to have a highly protective mother. But after reading some psychoanalysis texts, I came to know that Indian mothers have a reversal of Oedipus complex. That is, the mothers are emotionally and sexually attracted to their sons. Indian mothers are even compared with Italian and Japanese mothers who also have very close relationships with their son. In real life though, this may or may not be true as we do not know the real feelings of our mothers.