Andrea searched through the crowd of the fancy event, looking for her son. It was an Art Gala for high society, where everyone wore their best suits, dresses, and gowns. Now, more than ever, she was thankful she had dragged her son to this sort of event.
She finally spotted him standing in front of a large sculpture, which would soon be auctioned off for charity.
"There you are," Andrea said. "Something's come up."
His eyes perked. "Are we leaving?"
"Just the opposite. I need your help."
For a split second, Andrea noticed her son's gaze briefly going up and down, admiring her beauty. She had dressed up for the occasion and she knew she looked dazzling. She wore extra makeup, her hair was done, her earrings sparkled, and she wore a gorgeous blue dress which showed off her full chest.
She was used to this. The combination was potent; her son was a young man, and she had a great set of voluptuous tits. The truth was, very few men could resist the sight of her breasts whenever they were put on such an elegant display.
Normally she'd feel slightly dirty from her son's wondrous gaze, but on a night like this, those desires could be useful.
"What is it?" Tyler asked.
"Remember when I introduced you to Zara?" she asked, referencing her dear friend, whom her son had just met. "She's the Persian woman. You shook her hand earlier."
Tyler smiled. "She's the one making a big donation tonight, right? Yeah, of course I remember her."
So it seemed her son had the hots for Zara, too. She ignored it and forged ahead.
"Well, she was breastfeeding in a private area and a security guard told her to cover herself because of an idiotic and sexist policy. It's ridiculous."
Andrea was officially miffed and she didn't care if anyone at the gala overheard this conversation. There were far more important things on her mind, like making sure this never happened to another breastfeeding mother here again.
"That's a bummer," he said. "Knowing you, I'm assuming you're going to do something about it."
She huffed. "We're planning to show our defiance. It's 2019 and it's not okay for women to be treated like this. Breastfeeding isn't indecent, and neither are our bodies. So we're going to..."
Her voice trailed off when the gravity of the situation sunk in, but her heart was strong and her resolve was unshaken. Yes, this would be a daunting task, but it was necessary to make social progress.
"You were saying?" he asked, wondering why his mother had just frozen.
She snapped out of it. "This is a private matter. Follow me."
Andrea softly grabbed her son by the wrist and pulled him away. She guided him out of the event, towards the outer hallway. She looked around for a quiet place and made a turn down the hall.
They were near an emergency exit which had total privacy. But they were close enough to the gala where they could still hear the lively conversations happening.
Finally, Andrea continued her point. "We're going to show our defiance by making a picture collage of our breasts and lactation. No names or faces. But it'll be something meaningful to show that a woman's breasts and her milk are powerful and marvelous. Hopefully it'll change some of the discriminatory policies against women here."
Tyler seemed breathless for a moment, before giving a short, awkward nod of approval.
"I need your help," she said, this time with more confidence. "I can still produce milk, but I need a partner. I need the right stimulation."
"You still have... milk?" he almost stammered, nervous to speak of this towards his own mother.
Andrea paused, then nodded. "I'll just be honest. Contrary to popular belief amongst men, breast milk never really goes away, as long as the glands are routinely stimulated. My glands have remained stimulated after all these years because... well... they just have. I need your help, okay?"
On a night like this, Andrea was more than willing to forgo the traditional norms of any mother/son relationship. It was worth the sacrifice of crossing boundaries with her son. Fighting for women's rights meant everything. It was her life's calling.
In a simple motion, she pulled aside the left side of her dress to expose her large, pendulous breast. It was shaped like a globe with a large brown nipple pointing forward. She felt her big nipple growing hard from the exposure.
As expected, her son's eyes were glued to her tit. Tyler's eyes widened and his jaw nearly dropped.
"Let's be adults about this," she calmly stated, holding her breast out. "I need you to nurse from me. Get my milk flowing. Then after I take a picture of it, we'll head back to the party. Sound okay?"
"Are you sure? I mean, you want me... to do that?"
"My milk flows best when there's suction and stimulation. And I certainly don't want to ruin my lipstick."
He gulped deeply. "I should have mentioned before... but, ummm... I'm actually a big supporter of women's rights, too. I'm a male feminist... ummm... in every way. I think you're 100% right about breastfeeding. It's a blessing for humanity."
Andrea wanted to laugh at her son's finesse. During all these years, whenever she went on a rant about equality, her son's eyes would glaze over. Now, her son's eyes were lusting after her exposed nipple. Tyler only had one thing in mind.
"Go ahead," she said, jiggling her breast. "You have permission to suck on my big nipple. Enjoy it while you can."
He nervously nodded. "I'll try my best and hopefully you'll have the best picture."
