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Text:Tom Hathaway - Memoirs of Forbidden Love/Better Late Than Never by Slurp

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Iʼve been wanting mom for a long time now. I havenʼt had her yet, but Iʼm on the way.

She was young when she had me, and she likes to say we grew up together. I never knew my dad. She had lots of boy friends, but at home it was just her and me. Until my little sister came along.

Lori is three months now, cute as can be, a real cool baby. She was an “accident.” Mom didnʼt actually say so, but I think sheʼs not sure who the father is. She parties. But she doesnʼt believe in abortions, so now weʼve got Lori and weʼre both glad.

Mom is breast feeding her. I love to watch, but mom says, “Donʼt stare,” so I pretend to look at the TV or read the paper, but my eyes are on her tits. Iʼd seen them before, but now theyʼre bigger from the milk, and I can see veins in them. They look great. When she switches Lori from one to the other, milk keeps oozing out from the first one. Itʼs about the best thing Iʼve ever seen.

I never got to breast feed. Mom had to go right back to work, so she started me right away on formula and day care. That was before many people knew how valuable breast feeding is, all the good things it does for the baby. I read in my college health science class it gives you antibodies. I donʼt know why they call them anti-, because theyʼre good for the body, they keep you healthy. I think thatʼs why I have allergies now, because I didnʼt get them.

I started sketching on mom to let me nurse too. She said no, but I kept at it — If at first you donʼt succeed, try, try again. I told her I didnʼt have antibodies because of her, and she said she was sorry but it was too late for that now. I said that wasnʼt fair, and she said life is unfair.

Then I used psychology on her. I told her thatʼs why thereʼs so many problems between us. We didnʼt get to bond back then and thatʼs hurt our relationship. She said Iʼm way too old for that, whatʼs past is past. I told her it would help us now to get along better. I could tell this scored points with her (we fought a lot about all sorts of things — she didnʼt like the fights and neither did I). But she said Iʼm grown up now, and grown‐ups donʼt breast feed.

I told her yes they do. Itʼs a growing thing. Thereʼs even a whole website about it, the Council on Adult Nursing. She didnʼt believe me, so I showed it to her, a real cool site. She still said no.

One night we were all watching TV together on the couch. Lori was nursing. Usually mom would just have one tit out at a time, but when she switched her, they were both out. As soon as she switched, I grabbed the first one with my lips. Mom tried to push me away, but Lori got upset and started to cry. While mom was quieting her, I kept sucking. It was so great. I didnʼt even mind my little sisterʼs spit. The milk was warm and sweet, the best thing I ever tasted. I could tell it was full of antibodies and all sorts of good things.

“Stop, stop,” mom kept saying but not loud enough to upset Lori. She pulled at my head but not very hard. Finally she said, “It hurts, it hurts.”

I didnʼt want to hurt her, so I stopped. I stayed right there next to it though, and looked up at her disappointedly. “How can it hurt?” I asked. “Thatʼs what itʼs for.”

She said Lori sucks hard and thatʼs why she switches her, because it starts to hurt.

The nipple was right by my mouth, and I could see milk seeping out, looking so good, a beautiful creamy color. I stuck my tongue out and licked it off — delicious. Mom gave an exasperated sigh. “Now that didnʼt hurt, did it?” I asked. “I didnʼt suck … I just licked.”

“No, that didnʼt hurt,” she admitted.

“Good,” I said and closed my eyes and nestled up to her. I thought if we stopped talking I could stay that way for a while. She let me stay until Lori was finished. I told her how great I felt, a real peaceful happiness from her milk and being close to her. I could tell that got to her. She seemed to like snuggling up. I even thanked her — that was unheard of.

The next night when I got into bed I called out and asked her if she could bring me a glass of water and some pain pills. When she came in with them, I patted the bed beside me for her to sit down. I told her I had a headache and put my arm around her waist and nuzzled up against her. I could see damp spots on her blouse — made me thirsty for her tits.

“The headacheʼs from the allergies,” I said. “Give me a hug.”

She leaned down and hugged me and pressed her head to mine. “Poor baby,” she cooed. But when I unbuttoned her blouse, she stiffened and said, “No.”

I undid the front clasps of her nursing bra, and her breasts spilled out at me, big and wet. She tried to roll away, but I held her. “Lori hasnʼt been here now, so it wonʼt hurt. I wonʼt do it hard … Iʼll be gentle. Just for a little while,” I pleaded. Rather than waiting for an answer, my mouth closed on a nipple. Her milk tasted so wonderful flowing over my tongue and down my throat. Her boob was so soft yet firm, and there was so much going on inside, things moving and swelling, warm. I was in heaven, walking on clouds, enjoying everything Iʼd missed.

I gave it about five minutes, then switched to the other one. When I moved, I thought mom might make me stop, but she kept stroking my head.

After a few more minutes I gazed up at her and said, “That didnʼt hurt, did it?”

She shook her head with a little smile on her face and a dazed look in her eyes.

“Thanks, mom. Iʼll show you itʼs going to make things better between us.” I kissed her cheek. “My headacheʼs already gone. I donʼt need the pills after all … or the water.”

Next day I was the perfect kid. I was extra nice to her, washed the dishes, took out the trash, cleaned my room, did my homework … and smiled the whole time. She was surprised and pleased. My psychology teacher calls that positive reinforcement.

That night she tried to get away with just the usual kiss on the cheek, but I told her, no way. If she wanted things to stay good between us, she had to let me nurse every night. But I said it friendly, with my arms around her.

She acted like she didnʼt like the idea, but she gave in. Weʼve been doing it for month now, and sheʼs gotten to like it a lot. I go from one tit to the other, totally happy. Itʼs our special time together.

At first she tried to get me to suck the nipple just through the little hole in her nursing bra, but I soon got rid of that so I can stroke and pet both of them while I drink.

We do it in my bed as sort of a good night present. Iʼve tried to get her under the covers with me, but she insists on staying outside.

I keep one hand on her thigh while Iʼm sucking. At first she tried to push it away, but I told her I needed it to brace myself, so she let me, and now she lets me rub her a little bit there, as long as I donʼt move the hand too far up. When weʼre done, mom has a real dreamy expression and sheʼs breathing louder and deeper.

At first she resists each new step, then when I keep at it, she gives in. She seems to need the rules to feel in control of the situation, but they donʼt mean very much. Lately sheʼs let me kiss her on the lips when weʼre finished. Next week Iʼm going to try a little tongue.

When I suck momʼs tits, I use a gentle but steady pressure with my lips to squeeze the milk out. My favorite way is to take almost the whole thing in my mouth (itʼs too big to get it all in), and gradually work my way out to the tip, coaxing the milk along as I go. Then I home in on the nipple, really nestle into it with my lips as if thatʼs the whole world right there, and draw the milk out. I let it build up in my mouth before swallowing. Itʼs so delicious to taste and luxurious going down — natureʼs perfect food.

Iʼm finally getting to have the deep contentment and satisfaction I was denied as a baby. Sucking momʼs tits has improved my outlook on life enormously. It also makes me tremendously horny. I usually jack off right after she leaves, imagining doing it to her.

She must know whatʼs on my mind. “Donʼt get any ideas about going all the way,” she said. “Thatʼs incest. Itʼs wrong. Besides, Iʼm still all sore and tender down there from the baby. It would hurt too much.” From the way she said it, though, I could tell she was getting used to the idea in the back of her mind.

Itʼs only a matter of time until I get to have her. Thatʼll be the best thing ever. I canʼt wait. I keep some condoms beside the bed for the big night. That way she canʼt object about getting pregnant. In the meantime I just have to be patient, which isnʼt easy when Iʼve got an aching hard‐on from sucking motherʼs milk.


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