That night changed Lisa. It changed her beliefs, her philosophy on sex, dating, relationships, and breastfeeding--everything.
The 5'11', green-eyed 36H blonde had realized that it was okay to have casual sex now, even if that had started under the pretext of fixing her lactation problems. It was okay to enjoy breastfeeding adult men. It was okay to let someone else totally control her breasts. It was okay to satisfy her thirst for a good dicking on a regular basis, even when she wasn't technically in a relationship or in a marriage. These needs were human. No judgments. She had indeed changed.
She realized this whole thing would go on for a while, as long as she was young, fertile, and lactating. Her breasts were going to need the manly help. She wouldn't be able to handle her easily cloggable ducts by herself. If she wanted to be functional in her life, she would need them to be sucked by strong jaws to keep her from engorgement pain-free and to successfully feed Paige. She was dependent on these men. She got used to surrendering her breasts to them during these sessions. She trusted them. Lisa was feeling optimistic about her life now; she wasn't a failed mother anymore. She felt like a whole woman, feminine, and complete. It was also the constant flow of love hormones in her body, the oxytocin from breastfeeding, cuddling, and the orgasms. She was also a good mother to Paige; her lifestyle hadn't affected that. Paige was almost 5 months old, close to the weaning-off age, but Lisa's breast milk had no signs of waning.
Lisa regularly hung out at their house. There were regular group lovemaking and milking sessions. The sex and milking was never dull and repetitive. The doctors were clever to experiment with something new every time and Lisa would experience different, new kinds of sensations. The problem however remained. Her breasts would let go of the milk only after quite an effort. Paige still had a hard time getting a full supply of direct milk.
Her body was still very sensitive to sexual touch. Her nipple and pink soft areola skin was as sensitive as they were at her first group milking session. The hot sex and the euphoria of this new relationship had a visible effect on her health. Her skin was soft and glowing from all the love hormones in her blood. The old lady at the neighborhood grocery cash register noticed that she looked happier and prettier, and complimented her glow, and asked if there was some new man in her life. In response, Lisa just brushed it off with a smile.
"I've just been taking better care of my health. I eat healthier and exercise. Thank you so much, I appreciate it."
Yes, a lot of exercises, in bed.
A month into this arrangement, one morning, she was sitting on her porch sipping coffee, reflecting on her life lately, her golden hair glowing in the morning sunlight. She realized that her breasts were behaving, but only because she was getting help from these men. Her milk ducts still had the same problem. The problem was anatomical; it was congenital. Nothing could be done about it. The only solution to an anatomical problem was an anatomical, mechanical solution. No medicines or surgery would help. Only mouths, lips, tongues, and teeth of strong adult jaws, and the right technique. Technique was important. And personalized technique was needed for her because she was a special failed case. The closest providers of this solution were these neighbor doctors. Babies couldn't suck hard. And her baby couldn't give the letdowns that she badly needed and loved.
She momentarily thought she was no longer that "honorable" lady in the community; could people think of her as a slut? But then, she also had a problem with her breasts. How would that get taken care of? So this was sort of necessary. It was her fate that brought her to this situation, not just her sexual needs, so she said to herself, making herself less guilty for indulging in all this. And this was also for her daughter's good. She wanted to be a good mom to Paige. Her role was to nourish her from her bosoms. It was only because of these treatment sessions that she was able to provide her with the recommended amount of milk. Not being able to breastfeed Paige would have made her feel a failure as a mother. Also, all her other needs were met, and she was happy. That's what mattered. So, all this was okay. She felt she was in a much better spot in her life compared to a year ago.
As she was getting ready for a shower, she went in front of her bathroom mirror and took her robe off. She assessed her breasts holding her hands underneath, assessing them and thinking to herself, "These had been so uncooperative previously. Who knew? A combination of love and a little punishment was what they needed." Her breasts looked bigger. There were a couple of healing light bruise marks from the intense lovemaking session last week. They felt full and soft. She felt better touching them and realizing her feminine energy. That aroused her. She had become a MILF indeed. She took a minute to rub them, massaging away the pressure points. She also hefted each one in her hands, feeling their weight and softness. The feel of her hands on her skin, stroking over her sensitive areas, sent thrills up to her neck. She breathed deeply, her nipples visibly hardening under her touch, her areola drawing tight into a bumpy ring. She traced a finger around one, delighting in the tingling waves that radiated out from her chest.
She stretched her nipple by pressing at the base to test it, to see how it had changed over time. She noticed they would stretch out longer than before. Streams of milk jet out hitting the mirror, making her feel proud of herself. Over the last few weeks, her nipple and areola became one continuous dark pink projection from her breast, like a cow's teat. It was softer, fleshier, and pliable, and held some residual milk. They blended with her areola and would stretch if sucked on harder. Most importantly, they still very sensitive to sexual touch and the tricks these doctors were working on her. Her breasts had also become more supple and soft. They would sag a little, which made it look natural. Because of this, it was easy to tell when they were full. When they were engorged, they would look tight and perky. "That's how a lactating mother should look like," she said, proud of herself. Her breasts also got a lot of stares, from men as well as women. They couldn't help but jiggle with every step she walked. If she wore a thin bra, her large aroela and nipple would be visible under the dress, causing men to stare. They were so mesmerized that they couldn't take their eyes off them even while talking to her, causing Lisa to feel embarrassed.
After shower, applied the nipple moisturizing cream that the doctors had prescribed and put on her cotton nursing bra, t-shirt, and a pair of jeans.
She also enjoyed another role with these doctors -- being their nourisher and homemaker. It somehow aligned with her feminine instincts that were at their peak. She was taking care of her lovers' health and nourishment by giving them her own milk and cooking for them. She had developed an incredible bond with them. They also treated her with a lot of respect. They never talked to her like she was a slut, but always treated her like a lady, giving her a lot of space, offering to take care of things for her, and offering to help her out with various activities. She sometimes thought this was a weird relationship, not casual but also not married or in a relationship. She felt comfortable being this way though. She felt comfortable around them. She trusted them with everything.
