Searching For Mummy Pt 01

This is a tale of my search for professional help with my breastfeeding and domination obsessions with Escorts and Dominatrices in the U.K. Its pretty full on. Don't read it if you are offended by prostitution or adult nursing or water sports or anything else.

Intro

Some twenty or so years ago, I was depressed. I have never had a lot of good physical health, and I felt exhausted after so many health and personal crises over so long. So I ended up talking to a therapist and in the process it became obvious that I had a lot of issues still hanging around from childhood and my relationship with my mother to whom I had never been close. I wont bore you with it all,reader, but my therapist suggested I should stop trying to be something I am not in my personal relationships, and to cut a long story short, and following my overcoming the depression, I ended up visiting dominatrices and escorts looking for play nursing experiences and so on. I was going to indulge what had been, up to then, a more or less furtive passion for women with very large breasts,and play at being the rather pathetic needy little boy that I now felt was my real sexual persona. Don't ask what I had been doing all the years up to that point. I realise now, and this thanks mainly to my therapist, that I was just pretending to be what I thought was normal, and so had probably been boring my two wives and one mistress for getting on for half my life. Because I wasn't any good at it, and I was no longer going to try. I was not, and am not, interested in any kind of normal sex; no more intercourse or blow jobs, I wanted to worship a woman's body, to feed from her, to serve her with my mouth as much as I could, and let her treat me like a child, even though I wasn't one, because I had realised that the core me was, despite my adult appearance, just a little infant boy.

I quickly found that I wasn't that unusual, although a lot of other men like me also wanted to dress up as babies, wear nappies/diapers and unlearn their toilet training. That, I found, was not for me. I found that I was more like a little boy- in some ways babyish, in others more advanced, consciously wanting to please, but willing to accept that I might not be able to, and not wholly dependent on my mother-substitute in the way a baby might be.That meant it took time to find the right lady- and to some strange experiences along the way- not all of them terrible, by any means, but not always hitting the right note either.

Alice

But eventually, I did find a lady who became my first true Mummy substitute. She was pleasingly well built, of an Afro-Caribbean background, with very large floppy breasts, so heavy that they hung down over her big belly, large and fat around the nipple area, the nipples themselves being very black and thick. She had the right combination of strictness and warmth and having made me undress in front of her, she made me undress her, a ritual I have tried to repeat whenever possible subsequently. Before very long I was cuddled up to her on her bed, holding her massive breast and sucking blissfully, feeling warm and peaceful. My penis, often uncertain in its habits,swelled and throbbed to fully erect, although she had not touched it. I already knew this was exactly what I wanted, but I was overwhelmed with joy and almost cried when I tasted her milk. She didn't have a massive flow, but I could taste it on my tongue and as we continued and switched from one breast to the other, I noticed that the nipple on the breast I wasn't sucking dripped, very slowly. She held me very tightly, from which I concluded she found the experience at least as pleasurable as I did,gasping and sighing as we just lay there in ecstasy. Eventually, she told me quite firmly to stop, and then she rearranged herself on the bed and told me to kneel on the floor, between her open thighs. Of course, I thought I knew what I was doing and almost buried my face in her lovely big vulva, but she pulled me away and instructed me just how she wanted to be licked, which was gently and slowly, starting at her large lips and moving inwards and upwards. So I took my time over it, and when she climaxed it was extraordinarily violent, almost suffocating me between her enormous thighs and drowning me in her juices. I felt very privileged and happy and we lay on the bed apart from one another in languorous euphoria. But it wasn't over.

She got up and produced an old fashioned china chamber pot from a wardrobe. Placing it on the floor where I could clearly see her, she squatted over it and pissed. This was indescribably erotic, and reminded me of the time in my early teens when I had furtively watched my aunt piss in a pot through a knot-hole in the wooden beach hut we had rented when the whole family was on a seaside holiday. I had been aroused by the sight of a woman pissing then, but somehow had forgotten about it, and it reinforced my feelings of being excited to bursting point, but also of being subject to this lovely large woman's authority. When her strong stream died away and she was still squatting over the pot, golden drops still falling from her, she looked at me with an expression that was between a big smile and a sneer. " Don't you want to drink it?" she asked. Of course, I did , and even more so because I had never drunk urine before, nor had it ever occurred to me before that moment that I would ever want to. I was also in a frenzy to get down on all fours and put my face in the pot and drink it up like a dog, but she restrained me , and put her arm around me as she gently tipped the contents of the pot into my open mouth, mouthful by mouthful. The taste of her warm piss was so wonderful, somewhere between the taste of slightly flat wine and some sort of lemon cordial, it was just as if she had poured me out a glass of the most refreshing thing you might want on a hot summer day, and I was so thirsty.

"That tastes so good" I said " I never knew pee could taste like that."

" Doesn't my milk taste better?" she asked. Well, now she mentioned it, it did. It was warm and sweet, but not thick like cows milk. But I had always hoped and believed that breast milk would taste beautiful, whereas pee I had always assumed would be bitter and unpleasant. I told her so, and she was evidently pleased with what I said because within seconds we were cuddled up together again, my mouth latched on to one of her enormous breasts, and I had her milk again to mix with the after taste of her urine. We lay like that for ages more, the only movement being the soft changeover of breasts to my mouth. Then I became aware that she was slowly wanking herself while I sucked, and eventually she lifted her nipple from my mouth and gave herself up to another shattering orgasm. My arm still lay her across her big belly as she came, and I am sure I could feel her insides almost rippling beneath the skin, and she grunted rhythmically, in a very satisfyingly erotic way.

After some minutes of lying still, waiting for her breathing to calm down, she turned her attention to my pathetic stiff little penis, which had been quivering and dripping for for what seemed like hours now. She held it lightly between her thumb and forefinger and told me that she wanted her little boy to get all that sticky stuff out of him now. " Oh yes Mummy!" I gasped, and quickly did as I was told, kneeling to one side of her and stroking it while she lay there looking at me, a huge smile on her face.

" I want you to shoot your cream over me." she said "Show me how you play with yourself."

So I wanked myself slowly and sensuously, until I couldn't stop myself any more. "Oh, I'm going to come Mummy!" I gasped and shot drops of sticky spunk all over her lovely big belly, letting pleasure flush over me like a warm breeze, my white drops of cum in a perfect line on her black skin.

This remains perhaps the most perfect sexual experience I have ever had, and I had to wait until I was over fifty before I experienced it. After that I visited Alice ( I never knew if that was her real name, but I think it was- it seemed natural enough) many times. As on that first occasion, she was incredibly generous with her time; on that occasion I had booked and paid for just two hours, but ended up being there nearly five, and I was embarrassed because I felt I should give her more money, but I hadn't brought any more with me. However, she just laughed it off and after that I came for " the afternoon" and paid her about double the two hour rate.

The idea of paying a lady for this sort of experience may strike some people as distasteful, but I would ask them to consider a moment. At my age, obviously I have real life commitments and that includes my marriage, which I value. Trying to be a little boy play breast feeding, even where there is no actual milk, means an intimacy that, I believe, is much more close and emotional than that engendered by normal sex. The commercial transaction limits the danger of that emotional bond- it is an acknowledgement that we are both adults enjoying an activity that (hopefully) gives us both pleasure but that we are not having to pretend that we are something to each other that we are not. In that respect, I believe it it is more honest, and besides, most ladies doing escort and dominatrix work need to earn money, and I am very happy to pay them to indulge me. It is a joy when they, as Alice did, so obviously indulge themselves as well, but as with all children, its all about me in the end, and I accept I have to pay for that.

Every afternoon with Mummy Alice followed much the same pattern as the first. She told me she still had milk because her teenage daughter had also had a daughter of her own, and while Alice was looking after the baby when her daughter was at work, it seemed natural to her to offer it her breast , if only for comfort. According to her, though her daughter was her youngest child and it had been getting on for sixteen years since she had weaned her, only a few days of suckling her granddaughter brought her flow back. Though I know that for other women, it takes much more effort and pills and potions besides, I believed Alice completely, as I also know other women find the mere sound of a crying baby will stimulate their nipples and create a desire to feed. I had contacted Alice only a couple of months after the weaning of her granddaughter and I just happened to get lucky. Hers was the only breast milk I have ever tasted, and the memory of it is very precious.

I continued seeing Mummy Alice every month, and sometimes more often, for almost two years. Then, once again I was ill, and had to have an operation followed by five or six weeks convalescence. When I saw Alice again, and latched on to her enormous heavy and floppy breasts, her milk trickled into my mouth just as it had the first time, but somehow , she didn't seem to enjoy it as much. Also, I noticed, the flat was not as tidy as it used to be. She lived in a pretty run down area, but her home was always neat and tidy- or it had been. Something had changed, but I didn't know what. I would have done anything I could to help. But I couldn't find the question which would give me the answer. Whatever was wrong- and I have to face the unpleasant truth that it could simply have been she was bored with me – I could not find out what it was. The last time I visited, the place was in a mess and it was hard to find space even to put my clothes. Worse, the next day I noticed I was covered in little red insect bites- fleas, bed bugs? I couldn't tell. When I rang Alice again, I tentatively suggested she meet me in a hotel. It wasn't that I really wanted to do that, because hotels mean that other people might get involved, chiefly receptionists and so on, but whatever was going on with Alice, I wanted to try and return to the intense fun we used to have. However, to my complete distress,she was offended by my suggestion and sadly, that was that. I never saw her again. So much for all my fine words about the commercial transaction taking the edge off the emotional relationship. I missed her very much, and still do.