I ring the doorbell, I wait, and then there's noise and rattling coming out of the speaker. There are some words too, can't make them out but I guess it doesn't really matter. I say "It's Jason, Aunt Maria!" but I guess that doesn't get through all the goings-on at the other end. In any case, she presses the button and Buzz!—in I go.
My mother told me to drop by Aunt Maria's to collect some stuff and bring it home, so after school (I'm still in high school, but proud to have turned 18 last month) I walked this way... in a hurry, too, cos I love my auntie! (Actually, I love her looks and she's a nice person too. She had a kid about a year ago, but the father left her—don't want to go into that now...)
I walk in, and she tells me to excuse the mess, baby Jodie's not been very well today and she had to hold her all day, so no time to tidy up. She shouldn't have told me, I would have understood.
"Don't worry, I'll help you tidy up if you want." Yeah, what a wonderful young man, wanting to help her out. I had my reasons; the last time I did that it paid off nicely, I had great fun watching her carelessly move around putting things in their proper place and at the same time jiggling all around me... I mean, she is a nice woman, you know?
Baby Jodie starts screaming, Aunt Maria says it's about feeding time so she puts the baby in position and starts feeding her. I've always been decent enough to give her space and not stare, so this is what I do this time as well. I look, but I don't stare. She has one awesome pair of tits, but I try not to really think about that so much. I get on with what she let me know I could do if I really wanted to help her out... I catch a glimpse of the semi-hard nipple being caressed by the baby's mouth, but I don't find that erotic in itself. I guess I shouldn't, really, so that's not a problem. But I can't help remembering the shape and size and colour and what I believe to be the texture of those things...
"What does that stuff taste like, anyway? Do you know?" I ask.
"Of course, it's quite sweet actually. I tasted a bit myself, I was curious, but a long time ago. If you like, when she's done, I'll get a little for you to try!"
No way. She's not serious... I mean, is that OK, anyway?! For me, her nephew, to taste her milk? I'm not a baby... yeah, ok; I am kind of curious but not that much. Wait! She doesn't expect me to suck it straight from there, does she? Nooo... she said she'll "get some" for me. Would have been great, though.
"Baby's done, and there's plenty left in these tankers. So I'll just milk some out for you so you don't die of curiosity."
This is where it gets interesting. I stopped everything and watched her intently. Sure, she's got no inhibitions. Sure, she's a hot 34-year-old. Sure, she has awesome big 38C's (they used to be B's, but it's nice how they've grown to an almost-insufficient C-cup since the baby). But more than anything, she's kneading them, milking them, for me now. FOR ME. I am just a little bit shaken by this realization... I watch mystified. The nipples turn a slightly darker shade of pink when she squeezes them, and they seem quite hard to me. I'm tingling! She tells me she's done, so raises the glass mug she used to milk herself in and looks at me, saying:
"Here, try it. You should try anything once, right?"
I am finding it hard to start moving, it's sort of uncomfortable. Would have been a lot easier to just stand there, watching her do that. For me!
I start walking, and I get back to myself. Oh my god... yes, she noticed it too. As I started to move, I felt the root cause of the tent in my trousers. My-oh-my. She's laughing!
"Oh, gosh, ha-ha-ha, I'm sorry Jason, but I guess you're still not used to seeing me, are you?"
I already blushed, profusely. I turn immediately and sit on a chair, facing partially away from her. She calms down, and apologizes again. She lays the baby down in the cradle next to where she's sitting I am sort of... mortified, but I gather the strength to say
