I'm an 18-year-old aunt who breastfeeds her twin nieces. As if that wasn't unusual enough, my neices are also 18 years old. You see, their mother Dina was a member of a sorority in college that encouraged sisters to induce lactation and nurse each other as a means of intimate bonding. For most participants in this eccentric practice, it isn't really a sexual kind of intimacy, though it can be for any member who happens to be oriented towards fellow women anyway. There is a definite feeling of deep closeness that accompanies it, which may be just about as pleasant as sex, but it's generally a different sort of pleasure than anything that could be called erotic.
Anyway, after she graduated and had a family of her own, the experience left Dina wholly uninclined to fully wean her two daughters. She introduced Monica and Veronica to other sources of nutrition at about the normal age, and to this day, they eat plenty of conventional food, but breastmilk, rather than dropping off the menu completely, simply ceased to be their exclusive source of sustenance, instead remaining as one extra option in an otherwise quite ordinary diet. As for me, I was a surprise for my mother, who managed to get unexpectedly pregnant at 41 at the same time as Dina, who was 23 at the time. This is why my neices and I are the same age and grew up more like sisters or at least closely bonded cousins. In fact, they don't call me "Aunt Michelle" very often unless they're speaking ironically, though if they're being really facetious or ornery, I might get an occasional "Auntie," just 'cause they know I hate that and like to tease me.
Perhaps due to her mammaries getting plenty of use during her college years, Dina has always had plenty of milk to go around, so in addition to keeping Monnie and Ronnie well-fed, she also helped Mom feed me throughout my infancy and toddlerhood. The fact that she continued to let her own daughters suckle well beyond that age is probably what instilled a certain curiosity within me, and it eventually culminated in me inducing myself to lactate as a sort of experiment during my junior year of high school, and by now, Monnie and Ronnie have come to rely just as much if not more on me for milk than they do on Dina.
Aside from being a sublime way for us all too bond, it's also apparently more convenient than some might think. If Dina or I happen to be nearby when they're hungry but either too lazy or in too great of a hurry to prepare something for themselves, neither of them will hesitate to pull the ever-willing feeder's top aside and latch on to the nearest nipple. In fact, up to one full meal per day, usually breakfast for both of them, is likely to consist entirely of breastmilk! Neither Dina nor I mind at all, though. With me, they would initially ask first, but I soon told them the same thing that their mother had been able to leave implicit since their infancy. Whenever they want it and I have some to give, I'm more than happy to provide it. I don't think I ever feel more at peace than when I'm nourishing my nieces from my own body.
Nourishment was not always the only or even main reason that they sought milk of the non-bovine variety, though. Even I learned early on that human breastmilk is a great natural pain reliever for the suckler and an equally good if not better stress reliever for both the suckler and the feeder. In fact, there's apparently even a term for breastfeeding to such non-nutritional endsΛ comfort nursing. Well, comfort nursing is a bit of a tradition for us. I may have largely stopped feeding from Dina for hunger's sake, mostly at our mother's behest, but she was still my first choice for soothing my aches and pains. If she happens to be close and available when something's hurting, her milk still gives the most immediate relief and often buys me some relatively pain-free time to procure more conventional treatment. It's not as if I'm any less tolerant of pain than any mature 18-year-old, and nor are my nieces, but even with minor aches, why suffer any more than we have to?
Just a short while ago, my seasonal allergies caused me to wake up on a lazy Saturday morning with a sore throat, but fortunately, Dina was at my house to help Mom erect storm shutters for an upcoming tropical storm. I trudged downstairs from my bedroom, originally going to ask Mom if we had any cough drops. As I approached the family room, though, Mom and Dina's voices drifted my way and made it clear that they were taking a break.
I approached them groggily and plopped down on our forest green couch next to my older sister. "It's my time of the year again," was all the explanation I needed to give with a roll of my eyes as I simply pulled Dina's T-shirt up, lazily leaned sideways, and took her areola in my mouth. I closed my eyes and immediately began sucking on her thick nipple and gnawing cyclically on the crest of her firm breast, sighing as I was rewarded with a welcome spurt of creamy elixir. It rolled down my throat, cooling the raw flesh on its way into my stomach. I felt more than heard Dina chuckle as she began stroking my hair while I indulgently pressed out a constant stream of sweet ambrosia with the ministrations of my lips and jaws. I let the sensation of intense bonding with my sister warm me as I drank contentedly, purring as the sharp pain softened and faded into almost nothing.
I realized with a start, just as I was happily lapping up the last dollop of milk from the breast opposite the one I'd started with, that I had essentially stolen the twins' usual breakfast. They slept in even later than I did on weekends, so they probably weren't quite awake yet. I knew that they were perfectly capable of getting a bowl of cereal or something, especially since they had no way of knowing when their mother would return home anyway, but I decided that it would be a win-win situation if I just jogged over to their house and fed them with my own milk. They wouldn't miss out on their favorite breakfast food, and I would be further comforted by the pleasures of nursing them. So, after I took a cough drop just for good measure, since it turned out that we did have a few left, I brushed my teeth, got dressed, and made my way to Monnie and Ronnie's house.
They were just crawling out of bed when I got there, and I had barely finished explaining the situation as I sat on the end of Monnie's bed before they gave me a couple of sleepy smirks, knelt to either side of me on the floor, and expertly peeled the bust of my tank top aside. I giggled lightly as they brought their eager lips to the peaks of my breasts, and it turned into a moan as my nieces instantly began sucking on my nipples and kneading the surrounding flesh with their jaws. Their hands resting on my thighs, they mashed their noses against my supple mounds as their suckling accelerated. "Oh, geez, you guys are hungry as ever this morning!" I gasped amusedly as I leaned my head back and let the welcome feelings of warmth and closeness with my nieces wash over me. I continued to just sit there and breastfeed them for about fifteen minutes, and it warmed my heart when their sighs of satisfaction reassured me that my milk was amply sating their appetites.
One might think that nursing would be much less filling and/or soothing for teenagers and adults just because they're so much larger than a younger child, but this assumes that they drink the same amount at the same rate as a baby would. Actually, the twins now routinely consume as much milk in one session as their infant or toddler selves typically did in one day. For Dina, it used to be that the milk supply she woke up with in the morning would usually be enough to satiate the twins throughout the day, but that was over a decade ago. Now, even with me supplementing Dina's supply, the twins quite routinely exhaust two breastfuls everytime they suckle, leaving whoever's mammaries they've just drained to completely replenish themselves anew.
Again, I certainly can't complain. Not only do I deeply enjoy feeding them, but Monnie and Ronnie are probably the primary reason that I now sport a pair of round and perky 42Ds instead of my original 40Cs. In fact, I can never help but feel proud at how well my apparently very productive boobs have kept up with the demand. Plus, although I eat like a horse, I think most of the fat ends up going into my milk. I'm not entirely sure how my neices manage to stay as thin as they do if that's the case.
My lactation was probably never as handy as it was one day towards the end of our senior year. Finals were fast approaching, and the three of us were supposed to meet in the school library during study hall for a moderate cramming session. That is why I was surprised when Ronnie rushed up to me by herself at the start of the period. "I just got a text from Monnie," she said. "She dislocated her shoulder in phys-ed! She's in the nurse's office."
I instantly started heading in the pertinent direction along with Ronnie, and we arrived about five minutes later. I was not surprised to see the nurse, a lean woman with wavy gray auburn hair, seated at her desk apparently talking to the paramedics, and I suppose the sight of Monnie sitting on the brown leather half-couch/half-bed clutching her very limp right arm to her side was to be expected. What I did not expect, however, was to also find our best guy friend Rick, a short but toned blond boy with ice-blue eyes, seated in a chair with an ice pack on his foot, which was propped up on a footstool that matched the duvet. "What happened to you?" I asked on my way towards my injured niece.
