Breast Pump

My breasts have been overly large and annoying since they started developing. They aren't Barbie huge, but D cups have a lot of mass to them. When I was in high school I used to play soccer, but by my senior year I couldn't strap them down enough to keep them from bouncing around so that I could keep up with the other girls. Sports bras have improved a lot over the years but back then they didn't help enough. They still barely support my girls during the exercise classes I do, even though I try to limit the amount of jumping and bouncing I do in those classes.

My boobs are constantly bumping into things, and I can't wear nice blouses with buttons without fear of the buttons popping loose. Somehow guys always seem to bump into my chest or rub against me. And those few guys I've had sex with have always spent way more time playing with them than necessary. Sure, my nipples are sensitive and easily stimulated, but the rest of my breasts are no more sensitive than anywhere else. Gentle caresses on any part of my body would have the same effect. Except that my boobs turn the guys on a lot, and their excitement turns me on.

My husband, Steven, loves my boobs, and the rest of me of course, and regularly asks to titty fuck me, especially during my period. He likes it, so I let him do it even though the action of sliding his dick between my well-oiled boobs doesn't do much for me. I do love the look of intensity on his face as he is doing it, and since I'm not distracted by my own impending orgasm I get to enjoy his orgasm face. That is pretty nice.

After almost twenty years of carrying these things around I'm finally using them for what they are meant for. Our daughter, who I will call Peanut, was born six months ago, and she has been exclusively fed breastmilk. Sure she and I had the usual problems with getting her to latch on at first, but it didn't take long and she has been happy and growing quickly ever since. I so enjoy the bonding time together with her; gazing into her eyes as I basically give my life force to her. Breastfeeding, when it works well, is relaxing and very enjoyable; sometimes too enjoyable. I understand that I am lucky to produce plenty of milk and that she and I were able to establish a good routine. Not all moms are able to do that with their babies so I know I'm lucky.

I haven't heard other moms talk about this, but sometimes when Peanut is feeding it feels really good. Like really, really, good. Like sexual good. I was worried about it at first but a little internet research led to the fact that sexual arousal during breastfeeding is pretty common.

Now that I am back at work our family schedule is complicated. Steven and I are able to flex our schedules somewhat so that Peanut is only in daycare part time. We knew this would be the case and so I started pumping while still on maternity leave so she still gets my milk even when I'm not there. As an added bonus my husband is able to feed Peanut, and he loves doing that almost as much as I do. Peanut fought taking the bottle, and she clearly prefers my breasts, but she does well enough with bottle feeding now.

At work I'm in charge of internal and external documents for my company. That means I keep the website up to date, and create all the training documents for the whole company. More importantly, I make sure all of our government records and submissions are up to date, correct and accurate. Maintaining those legal documents gives me the advantage of having my own office, which is nice. However, only the Human Resources Office has a door that can lock. That usually isn't an issue since almost nobody ever closes their door.

Except for me, when I'm pumping.

Everybody now knows not to open my door if it is closed. Mostly because when I first started back at work my coworker Peter, and on a separate occasion my boss, Brenda, opened the door and started to walk in while I was pumping. They didn't see anything since the pumps cover me, but I was still mortified. I usually pump twice a day, once late morning and again late afternoon. I've got a mini fridge to store my expressions until the end of day. It is a little embarrassing that everyone in the office knows what I am doing with the door closed, especially since the pump is not "whisper quiet", I've been told people can hear it from the hallway walking past. Oh, well.

Peter has always been friendly and flirty in a professional way at work. He is a very open and outgoing twenty something and everyone loves him. He is super smart, and remembers everything he sees or hears. He chats with everyone, and is always interested in whatever other people are interested in. Among his other interests he has always been interested in my boobs but he has usually been able to hide his glances. I did notice an increase in his interest as my pregnancy progressed and they got bigger. I've noticed it even more since returning to work. He has also expressed a lot of interest in Peanut, and how she is doing, but he is interested in what is important to everyone he talks with so that isn't surprising.

My boobs are even bigger than usual now that I'm breastfeeding, and if I go too long between feedings or pumping they fill up and can start to hurt. That hasn't been an issue until this week.

I've been back at work about three months, and it is time for our six month checkup at our sister site. It's about a six hour drive each way so we drive out one day, have meetings all day long the second day and travel back the third day. On the way out we meet at the office and leave mid morning so that we catch up on any last minute tasks before spending the rest of the day stuck in a car. It's usually a relaxing drive since we aren't really working but we can chat and catch up. This time, in my case, I got the chance to pump in the comfort of my office before leaving.

"Are you sure you want to go? I'm sure I can handle it on my own." Peter asked because our third, Jessica, was out of town for a funeral. Normally only two members of our three person team travel at a time.

"I'm fine, I skipped out on the last two, I've got to pull my weight around here."

Peter laughed, "You do plenty and you know it. You led the whole meeting when they came here last quarter, and you were just back from leave. I just know that my sister wouldn't have wanted to leave her son when he was only six months old."

"Maybe she didn't have as much faith in her husband as I do in Steven? I know they will be fine, and it will be good for them to have the time alone together."

The drive was nice, chatting about everything going on at work, and the goings on among all our coworkers. Peter knew all the dirt about everyone, but was thoughtful when discussing painful things. "I don't know what I would do in that situation, I've never had to make that decision." We switched off driving after lunch, and again after an afternoon bathroom break.

My breasts started to get really uncomfortable late in the afternoon, I didn't usually go that long between feeding or pumping. "Ahh, Peter? We are going to have to stop so I can pump. I don't think I can last all the way to the hotel."

The poor man looked super uncomfortable. "Ok, ahh, do you need a room somewhere? Or a bathroom?"

"No, I brought a car adapter so I can just plug it in here. You will just have to walk away for twenty minutes or so, is that ok?"

"Yeah, sure, no problem. There is a box store at the next exit with a big parking lot. I'll park away from everyone else."

We parked far away from any other cars, and Peter got out, he waived his phone at me. "Call me when it's safe to come back."

"I won't be long." I watched Peter in the mirrors the whole time I was pumping, he walked back and forth in front of the store constantly looking toward the car. It was a little odd knowing that he was watching me pump, but he was much too far away to be able to see anything. It was still weird though, I had never gotten that kind of sexual tingling feeling while pumping. Eventually I was done and called his phone.

Later while Peter was driving he asked, "Will Peanut be able to use what you just ah, made?"

"If I was careful and refrigerated it as soon as we got to the hotel, maybe, but I'm just planning to dump everything out until I get home. I've got stocks in the freezer to last a while. I don't need to take any chances."

"That is to bad, that stuff is like gold."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I overheard my mom and sister talking about how my sister pumped extra and donated it to some organization that shared it with other breastfeeding moms. Like if the other moms didn't produce enough, or if they were sick or taking medication that would be, uh, passed."

Peter and I talked for a while about breastfeeding, and it was more than I had ever talked to anyone about it, even the lactation consultants. I did not mention that I sometimes got aroused while feeding Peanut. He was surprisingly well informed, for a guy. He was just always interested in what other people were interested in, and knew several women who had talked about breastfeeding. It was weirdly enough not uncomfortable to be talking to him about it.

We got to our hotel and checked into our separate rooms and met for dinner. The hotel restaurant was pleasant, it wasn't a chain place so they had their own local menu. Since I knew I would not be feeding Peanut I had my first glass of wine in over a year and a half. Not drinking for that long meant this gave me a quick buzz. That was pleasant as well.

When I called Steven that evening he was feeding Peanut and I could hear her feeding noises over the phone. It had been hours for me, so my engorged breasts immediately started leaking. Steven and Peanut were perfectly fine, of course, Steven is a great husband, and father. That is part of what makes me feel so guilty about what I did.

While talking to Steven I stripped off my top and bra, I was going to bed so there was no reason to stay dressed and I didn't want to leak on my clothes any more than necessary. I got out my pump and set it up, but after I said goodbye to Steven and tried to start it the pump wouldn't work, the motor just hummed. I guess using the plug in the car did something to it.

I quickly hopped on my computer and did a search for places that sell breast pumps and there wasn't any place open that late on a Tuesday, but there was a place nearby that would open at nine on Wednesday morning. That would mess up my plans for meetings, but there wasn't anything else I could do.

I texted Peter, "I'm going to need the car first thing in the morning, and you might have to run the first meeting."

"Why, what's wrong? Are you ok?" He sounded very concerned.

"My pump isn't working, I'm going to have to get a new one in the morning."

"I've got my computer tools, do you want me to try to fix it?" Just like a man, trying to fix every problem.

I was desperate, though, "If you think you can, that would be great."

I had gotten dressed again, with replacement pads in my maternity bra, by the time Peter arrived. As he entered my room he glanced at my breasts in concern, but didn't say anything about how large and full they were. "Let me see what I can do with the pump."

He quickly switched it on and off a couple of times, and then smacked it once or twice. "Well, the percussive maintenance routine didn't work. It sounds like the motor seized. Let me see if I can open it up."

He unscrewed the case and made a face, "Can you smell that? Something overheated, it smells like something inside burned." He was able to get the motor to move manually, but when he put it back together it still didn't do anything more than hum.

"I'm sorry, it doesn't look like there is anything I can do with this. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Just leave the rental car keys, and make it to the meeting on your own in the morning? I've got to replace my pump first thing."

Peter left a few minutes later, and I had to strip off my bra right away, it was far too constricting. I had always been very pleased with how much milk I was able to produce, but now with no way to release it I was getting painfully full. I decided I would need to manually express so I stripped off my pants and sat on the edge of the tub.

My breasts were painfully swollen, but I followed the instructions I remembered from the lactation consultant. I gently massaged both of my full hard breasts and with my fingers just outside the areola I pulled back into my body, squishing the breast tissue. The second time I did it each nipple sprayed milk across the tub, hitting the far wall. I was really surprised by how far I sprayed. I continued kneading my breasts and changing my finger position every second or third squeeze. I continued for about fifteen minutes, kneading both breasts until the internal pressure was lessened. I had managed to spray my milk all over the inside of the shower, including on my own legs and torso, I was covered in my own expressions. Luckily I was in the shower so it was easy to clean up.

Since this kind of expression was new to me I unfortunately chaffed the skin on my breasts, which was a different kind of annoying pain. The skin just outside the areola was reddened and a little sore. Luckily I hadn't needed to stimulate my nipples, so they were fine, as was the areola area. It was just the skin around there that had been abused. I had trouble falling asleep, and slept poorly. The next morning I woke up around six in pain.

Not only were my breasts sore from being overfull because I missed the nighttime feedings, but the chaffed skin was also irritated. I tried to manually express again, but it hurt too much and I broke down crying. I was exhausted, and in pain, and I shouldn't have done it, but I called Peter.

"I need help."

"I'll be right there."

My breasts hurt so much that I didn't even try to close my robe, it hung loose and open. I must have looked like shit, I could feel that my tears had dried on my face. Peter just looked concerned, "What's wrong?"

"I used my hands last night, but I must have done it wrong because now my skin hurts too much to do it that way again. Look." I shouldn't have done it, but I wasn't thinking straight. I opened the robe completely and showed him my reddened and swollen breasts.

Peters eyes got big, and then he turned redder than I have ever seen a man turn red. "Oh, no, that looks so painful!"

He started reaching toward me and realized that he was about to touch his coworkers naked breast. He stopped and waived his hands back and forth nervously, "What can I do?"

With tears falling down my cheeks I whimpered, "Help me." I don't know what I thought he would be able to do, but I certainly didn't expect him to do what he did.

Peter stepped closer to me, grabbed my left breast with both hands, leaned over and latched onto my nipple. His big manly hands were on either side of my breast, not touching the irritated skin. When he sucked on the nipple the sense of relief was immediate. I could feel myself releasing into his mouth, and I let out a sigh as the pressure lessened. Peters eyes got huge, but he continued sucking for a minute or two.

He released my nipple and stood up, he looked scared, "I'm sorry, is that ok? I didn't know what else to do."

It was absolutely wrong that I was letting someone other than my husband, or my baby, suck on my breast. It was worse that he was a younger coworker. But even worse than that was the knowledge that I needed him to do more.

My tears had stopped, and I said, "Yes that is ok. It is just what I need. Can you do more?"

The poor man looked at me with a mixture of love and lust and immediately said, "Yes, whatever you need." I felt bad for using him, but I needed what he could do for me.

I pushed him over to the bed and had him lay with his head on the lower right corner. I kneeled on the floor next to the bed and leaned over draping my right breast over his face. He immediately latched on and started sucking. The relief was immediate and this time I did feel a definite sexual rush.

I shed my robe and was kneeling by the edge of the bed wearing just my sleeping panties while my fully clothed younger coworker lay on my bed sucking on my engorged nipple, trying to empty my breast. His hands moved nervously for a couple of moments, trying to reach toward me, but he stopped and grabbed onto the waistband of his shorts. I think he didn't want to touch me inappropriately while I was practically smothering him with my breast.

The release of pressure, the honestly erotic stimulation from a handsome younger man, and the fact that I could see the outline of his hard dick in his shorts turned me on so much. I didn't mean to do it, but my fingers slipped into my underwear and with a quick touch on my clit I came. I don't think Peter could tell that it was an orgasm since he was only touching me with his mouth, and I don't think he could see anything from beneath my breast. My moans of pleasure might have been confused with moans of pain, but I never asked Peter what he thought happened.

After about five minutes I switched to the left breast, Peter still didn't reach out to touch me. He also didn't reach into his shorts to touch himself, either. I was honestly surprised at his self control. After five minutes on my left breast I leaned back away from him.

He sat up on the edge of the bed and looked down at me, sitting back on my knees with my still swollen breasts on display. After what we had just done I didn't see the point of covering up. Peter was still incredibly hard. He also looked concerned, "Is that enough? My sister said it usually takes fifteen or twenty minutes on each side."

"It doesn't hurt now, I'll be able to make it until the store opens."

Peter looked at my breasts, "They still look full and painful. I can do more."

"I can't ask you to do that."

"You aren't asking, I'm offering." He laid back down and put his head in the same position.

I kneeled back over him and let Peter latch onto my right breast. I could feel his tongue on my nipple and felt the rush of my milk into his mouth. I started massaging the sides of my breast to release the milk from further back. After about ten minutes of watching Peters hands twitch on his waistband I said quietly, "You can take care of yourself if you want to."

Peter's hands stopped for a moment, then he raised up his hips and pushed down his shorts and underwear. He started absolutely beating himself and he came in less than a minute. I always thought that guys dicks were fragile, but based on what I saw Peter do maybe they are tougher than I thought. His first shot of semen splashed onto my bare shoulder and it caused a shiver of pleasure to run through me. He continued to stroke himself as he continued nursing. After another ten minutes that breast was empty and I leaned back.

"Can you finished the other side?" The poor guy was looking at my with such love and lust, and unfortunately I think I was looking at him the same way.

"Yes, of course."

I leaned in and helped him latch onto my left breast, as he continued to nurse the gentle strokes on his dick started speeding up. This time I joined him by sliding my hand into my panties and we both came together. I know that Peter could tell that I was coming that time because I didn't even try to cover it up. My moans were obviously of pleasure, and my convulsions almost ripped my nipple from his mouth.

He emptied my breast a couple of minutes later and I leaned back away from him. This time he just laid on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. After a few minutes he rolled his head to look at me. I was leaning against the wall with my breasts still bare. "Thank you for helping, I was in a lot of pain."

Peter sat up and looked at me. His shorts were still down, and he saw me glance at his dick. "Now what?"