I'm a freak.
You see, I have a fetish for motherhood - specifically young motherhood, the kind epitomized by bloated tummies and breastfeeding.
I don't know where it began, especially since I feel no conscious attraction to my own mother.
Sure, my obsession had to come from some dark part of my psyche - just look at the libraries of incriminating evidence, after all. I've accumulated plenty of jack-off material, from the more-or-less innocuous (celebrity magazine spreads, birthing instructional videos, and every sample image from pregnancy shoots I can get my hands on) to hard-core stuff: yummy porn involving ANRs, milk play, and the luckiest bastards in the world massaging their third-trimester wives' bodies with warm lotion.
It was in university that I started hooking up with pregnant moms. Baby product stores are to preggo chicks like a creek to fish, only better: because so many men find pregnancy ugly, all you have to do is be sweet and conversational, and push the cart for her, and you have a damned-better-than-you'd-believe chance of getting her number. Taken, married, single, or otherwise.
In fact, my favourite lays are the married ladies with the piece-of-shit husbands always at work. These women incidentally tend to be the hottest (though the adultery taboo likely confounds that matter) and I can never figure out why any man would neglect them, especially in the prime of their youth and feminine beauty.
But oh well, I say - more for me!
What gets me off most is how I'm taking another man's boiling-hot wife in his own home, usually right where we could be caught at any moment. Against the bathroom door or bedroom wall, in his own bed, on the kitchen floor. And you'd be surprised at what many of these beautiful women will do after a nice bath or massage or eating out or tit-sucking: though not expected, a good blow job or butt-fuck is always welcome as gratuity for good service!
Unfortunately, the fun usually ends by the birth, for reasons I should clarify. I apologize in advance that these clarifications will not be as sexy as the previous matters, but promise to be brief. My primary interest in a pregnant woman after a birth would be breastfeeding, for which a few personal and ethical considerations come into play. First, I never have - and never will - involve children in fetish activities. Second, I understand the many health benefits imparted by natural breastmilk and do not want to deprive an infant of these benefits, so I will only suckle a woman if she is no longer nursing or has made an informed decision to use formula. Finally, I view breastfeeding - paradoxically, some might say - as both my most taboo, exciting fetish and the one I tend to reserve most especially for strong, committed relationships.
Thus after-birth relationships are like flawless diamonds: rare, but magnificent and certainly worth the effort to obtain them.
Suckling a woman is like kissing her: the kind of physical bond so special and intimate that a prostitute would be loath to let you do it to her for any cost. I submit to her, I pleasure her, I taste her, I drink from her gratefully, feigning innocence. We bond in near-silence.
Her warm milk is like opium tea in my mouth. I forget everything, am ecstatic, cling to her.
... of course, all this innate poetry doesn't mean I can't just have a little naughty fun, too. Like this afternoon, when I went over to my friend Nadia's house. Married when I met her, shortly after her son was born she divorced her fat loser husband after finding out he had been cheating on her with escorts.
She answers the door in a robe.
- Hey. She wraps her arms under my shoulders and kisses and bites my neck. Looking down, I see that she has nothing on under the robe and is grinding her pussy against my shorts.
- Hey, I say. I walk in and close the door behind me, then push her petite figure against the door so she's a few inches off the ground. I kiss her and push my tongue into her hot mouth, then pull my tongue out and lick a spit trail from her hard nipple to her earlobe.
She moans.
- You like that, don't you, you dirty little girl?
- Oh, yeah, baby. I love it.
She pulls my ear to her lips and, motioning her head toward her son's room, says in a low voice
- I just rocked him to sleep, so we have a whole afternoon to ourselves. She gives me this impish grin and, putting my nose to hers, chuckles a throaty, evil chuckle.
Grabbing my hand, she leads me to her bedroom.
