Liquid Revelations

2020- The pandemic was now in its sixth month and the world was locked down.

Thankfully my job allowed me to work from home, so I didn't have to face going out. I'm good enough at my job that I whittled my eight hours a day I used to spend at work down to a couple of hours a day at home on the computer. My son, however, was not as thrilled or lucky. Like most nineteen-year-olds he had a very busy social life that came to a screeching halt. He had just started his first semester at the local community college when lockdown happened and now, he spends his school time online with the rest of the world and ninety-nine percent of his social life with me.

We spent every minute of the day with each other, aside from showers and alone time in our own rooms. As a mother, I loved the fact that I got to share this time with him. God knows he'll be gone soon enough living his own life, so this time for me is precious.

As the months have rolled along, looking for new things to do was an everyday task. We painted, worked out, watched every series imaginable, cooked a lot, and generally kept busy. We were constantly talking to each other about any interests we might have and explored them all. Our talks eventually got to be more intimate as we talked about missing dating and generally missing being touched by the opposite sex. We both started to feel a little lonely, even though we saw each other every day.

During one of our talks, I suggested that we start a routine of snuggling together on the couch in the evenings. At first, I think he felt a little awkward about being so close to me for an extended period, but after a couple of nights, he was as excited about our time together as I was. Soon he started to ask if it was time yet, and I was feeling very grateful about us spending this time together. It took me back to when he was a young child. I was getting emotional thinking about how nurturing those times were for both of us.

It was so nice to rest my head on his chest and feel his arms wrapped around me. Sometimes I would lay with my head in his lap. On more than a few occasions I noticed his manhood coming to life in his sweatpants. I felt a thrill, knowing that he was excited and in turn that seemed to make my body react to his touch. Every stroke of his fingers on my arms sent chills through me that went to places a mother is not supposed to feel. He would slowly stroke his hand through my hair and rub his hand down my back, sending goose bumps radiating through me.

I was looking forward to our time together as much as he was and longed for the moment our bodies would touch. The nurturing feeling of holding my son and being held by him fed something in me that I couldn't quite put a finger on. More on that later.

A week had gone by and as nighttime approached, I could feel my body start to get excited. I was shocked at how much pleasure I was getting from this. We both took to wearing loose sweats and t-shirts, and due to having a 38E bust my nipples would constantly rub on the fabric of my shirt and keep them hard as a rock. I breastfed my son for a year and a half and during that time my breasts got very large. My nipples and areolas turned a dark brown and reddish-brown color and got equally as large as the rest of my breasts and never went away. It's one of my favorite attributes about myself. They may be mom boobs, but they're spectacular and so very sensitive. I caught him several times a day locked onto my breasts with his eyes. I can't blame him. I'm the only woman he gets to see in person.

His erections only got more frequent as time went on. He would be half hard before we got to the couch. It was comical watching him try to hide the obvious bulge in his sweats. He would try to stay turned or hold his hand over his crotch, but according to the size of the bulge he was obviously too well endowed for that to be an option. As soon as my head was laid on his thigh, I could hear his breathing start to change which only spurred on my teasing of him. I would ever so slowly move my head from side to side, all the while knowing I was teasing his cock back and forth under my head.

When I would snuggle up to him, he would wrap his arm around me and pull me in until my breast was firmly pushing up against his arm and chest. This only caused me to become even more turned on than I was pretending not to be. His touch was exhilarating, and I began to long for it when we weren't on the couch.

I've always been touchy, feely with lots of hugging and back rubs and that sort of thing, but now we had taken that to another level. I would constantly wrap my arms around him until he would hold me tightly against his muscular frame. It was becoming common for either of us to rest a hand on the other if we were close to one another. Usually, he would slip his arm around my waist and rest his hand just under my breast or I would run both hands over his chest and wait for him to pull me in for a close hug. Our bodies would be so close that even our knees would touch. I simply couldn't get enough of him.

You have to love the internet. If you have an idea about anything, all you need to do is search online to find out things you never imagined. One day while my son was busy doing online classes I had the idea to search for "what could I do to bring about a stronger feeling of nurturing for my child?" The list included supporting, touching, setting boundaries, communicating etc. I felt like I was doing all those things, so I kept searching for something I wasn't doing, until I found an article that piqued my interest.

The article was titled "How to Foster a Nurturing ABF Relationship". What is ABF? Well, that question was answered in the first few sentences. ABF stands for adult breastfeeding relationship. According to the article, the connection between partners becomes very strong. I immediately thought back to when I had breastfed my son and how I felt every time he would latch onto my nipple. A calm peace would come over me that was indescribable. Euphoria comes to mind, as well as a deep bonding. Now that some time has passed, I can remember fondly, feeling very sexually charged and occasionally having small orgasms from the over stimulation of my breasts. Mm I miss those days.

How could I get that back with my son? Would he even want to do something like that? Where do I even begin? Once again, I went down the rabbit hole of the internet looking for answers. In no time at all I had read a few articles about re lactating. Apparently, since I had done it before it was supposed to be easier. There is a mountain of info out there and it didn't take me long to figure out the next step.

I needed a reason to explain to my son why I was going to start this milky journey. I had to think about it for a couple of days before it hit me. With the pandemic in full force, milk banks were not getting enough donations to keep up with demand. Some women have a difficult time producing milk and the milk banks are there to help with that issue.

It was perfect. With a good plan laid out in my head, I got online and purchased a breast pump, nursing bras and some domperidone to help things move faster. I was so excited; I didn't want to wait any longer than I had to. Now how to bring the subject up to my son? I decided that our special snuggle time was the best place to do it, so I waited until that evening to broach the subject.

We had been on the couch for about a half an hour when I rolled myself over so that I was looking up at him with my head firmly in his lap. I could literally feel the pulse in his cock it was so hard. I started with "there's something I want to talk with you about". I then proceeded to tell him about the poor mothers that couldn't feed their babies and how that really pulled at my heart strings. I told him about how much I loved breastfeeding him and how much it meant to me and how I believed that I could help.

For the most part he was quiet, but after that statement he asked how I thought I could help? I could tell he hadn't put two and two together and had to explain that I was going to get my breast to start making milk so I could donate it. I explained about the pump and how many times a day I was going to have to use it. I could tell he was picturing me with a pump on my breasts by the lustful look on his face. I also told him about the medication I would take to help me start. He took it all in until I was all finished and then I asked him if he had any questions. He responded with an offer of any help if that was even possible and to try and support me in any way he could.

I reached a hand up and cupped his face and gave him the I love you so much, look that only a mother can give her child. He put his hand over mine and held it there for what seemed like ten minutes as time seemed to slow down. His other hand was slowly stroking my hair, gently brushing it away from my face and over my ears. Could I ask for a better son? I know he's a male and really, they will look at any breast, but it was in the way he said he would support me that made my insides melt with desire.

I was going to have to go to bed early so I could relieve myself sooner than later I was so turn on right then. I forced myself to turn back over as we continued to watch our show, and he kept rubbing my head and sensually moved his hand down my back. I told him to ask if he had any questions later that he couldn't think of right now. I got an mmhm out of him and he tightened his hand on my lower back which sent shivers down my spine, and I could feel my nipples respond by getting hard as diamonds. Patience, I kept telling myself, I didn't want to freak him out. If my plan goes as I think it should, we are going to be happy sooner than later.

The next week dragged on and on. I impatiently checked the tracking on my orders and finally by Friday everything had arrived. I took the packages to the kitchen table and started to unbox them all. My son tried to appear as if he wasn't interested but as I watched from the corner of my eye, I could see him stealing looks when he thought I wasn't looking. I set everything out on the table and started to put together the pump. I popped open the meds and took the first dose. It was going to be three times a day for a while, until I could get off of it as my supply got larger.

That first day I chose to go to my room to pump for the first few times. I wanted my son to imagine my nipples being sucked and elongated as the suction pulled them tightly into the tubes with the bottles attached. Soon my nipples would swell even more prominently than they already were, and my breasts would grow even larger, as milk filled them. I will give my son credit; he played it off like he wasn't completely enthralled by the thought of me going to use the pump. I could feel his eyes follow me across the room though as I headed for my bedroom.

After I got everything, all set up, I leaned back against my headboard and placed the first pump cone on my right breast then pushed the button. My breast and nipple were instantly sucked against the cup and that wonderful familiar feeling came right back. After the first one was in place and comfortable, I placed the other cup to my left breast. I immediately felt an excitement deep down in my core that I was doing exactly what I was supposed to be doing.

As the pump ran through its first cycle, I closed my eyes and imagined my son lying across my lap. His lips and mouth, full of my aching full breast, as I pictured milk filling his mouth. My life-giving elixir flowing through me and sending a warm glow throughout my body. I was lost in the fantasy and sooner than I expected, the pump shut off. Twenty minutes had gone by in a flash and so began my journey.

I had all the time in the world thanks to covid, so I started a pumping schedule every three hours. I let my son know that no matter what we were doing, I would have to stop and stick to my schedule if I wanted it to work. He became very interested in how It was going and how I was feeling. We had lots of conversations, especially in the evenings when I was snuggled up to him. I would tell him about how my breasts were starting to feel swollen and how they felt a little achy right before I'd use the pump. I explained how my nipples would get very stiff when they were getting close to that time and how almost immediately after I started pumping, the ache would turn into a pleasurable feeling. All this talk got him breathing harder and he was constantly in a state of arousal according to the giant bulge in his lap. I could literally see that he was picturing all of this in his head. I was feeding his sexual fantasies, even though he wouldn't admit it outright. He always had questions about how things were going and always tried to play it off as curiosity. I don't know if he could think about anything else. I loved every minute of it.

At about three days into pumping, my breasts had gone up in at least a cup size and were really starting to feel like milk was being made. At the end of that third day, I got my first drops of milk. When I looked in the bottles and saw white liquid in the bottom, I let out a little scream of joy. This, in turn, caused my son to come running to my room because he thought something was wrong. He threw open the door out of concern for my well-being and was met with something completely the opposite of what he imagined.

I was leaning against my headboard, topless, breast pumps attached and me swirling the milk that had accumulated in the bottles. I was wearing the biggest smile, looking at the bottles and it took him a minute to register all he was seeing. He stood there, dazed and wide eyed as I looked up at him and directed his eyes towards the milky bottles. I made a show of swirling the milk in the bottles and gave him the biggest smile I could. After the shock of seeing me half naked cleared just a little, he started to apologize for walking in in me and moved towards the door. I stopped him and told him it was ok if he wanted to stay and revel in my excitement with me.

Seconds passed, and I could watch the wheels turn as he slowly made his way over to the bed. I patted the spot directly in front of me and I crossed my legs so he could sit closer. The pump still cycled through pulling and then letting my nipples relax. With every pull in, a small amount of milk was being dropped into the bottles. My son couldn't take his eyes from what was happening right in front of him. He asked if I could feel the milk come out and if it hurt when the pump stretched my nipples that far. Of course, my answer was yes, I could feel the milk come out and when it did, I got a huge sense of relief and pleasure from it. I explained how even though my nipples were really being stretched, they were made for this, and it was very enjoyable to feel them being pulled in a such a rhythmic way. We were quiet after that for the next ten or so minutes and then this session was over.

Instead of telling him I was done, I slowly pulled each cone off one at a time. My large swollen nipples stayed erect, and both had milk drops hanging from them. My son's mouth was hanging open in awe. I handed him the bottles to hold as I wiped my breasts dry and reached for my shirt. My empty breasts jiggled and swayed back and forth in plain sight for my son to see, as I slipped my shirt on and took the bottles from him. I unscrewed them so I could put the milk in the refrigerator and couldn't believe I pumped a solid two ounces from each breast. It was better than I hoped for at this point. My excitement grew as I knew it would only get better from here.

I don't think my son blinked the entire time. I thanked him for helping me and walked out to the kitchen as if I had done this a thousand times before. I felt him watching every move I made as we both made our way to the kitchen. I grabbed a mason jar then emptied the bottles into it and placed it in the fridge. He asked how long my milk would stay good in the fridge, how I was going to donate it, how much I was going to make after my milk came in all the way. I told him I would have to freeze the milk in bags that were made for mothers' milk, and it would only last four days in the fridge without being frozen. I wasn't sure how much I would be able to make, since I hadn't breastfed since he was a baby. I said I remembered being able to produce more than he could ever have drunk back then. I added; I think that was a big part of the reason my breasts got so large the first time so we will have to see as how it goes.

His face was flushed, and he was trying to stay behind the counter to block the view of his tenting sweats. He excused himself quickly, saying he needed to go to his room for something he forgot to do online. I knew he was going to go and masturbate to thoughts of what he just witnessed. I decided not to give him a hard time about it, this time. Pretty soon he wouldn't be able to go anywhere in the house without getting an erection if I could help it. I was going to make sure of that. He wasn't the only one though that needed a release. I was getting just as aroused as he was. The thrill of teasing him coupled with having my breasts stimulated so many times a day had kept me perpetually horny.

When it came time for our snuggling session and as I came out of my bedroom from my latest pumping session, my son watched me from the couch as I went to the fridge and dumped an astonishing six ounces into the jar. My breasts felt so primed and ready to start really producing. My son asked how things were going and as I told him how much I had made, I started to wash out the bottles at the kitchen sink. Being the sweetheart/horny man that he is, he offered to take care of that part for me if I wanted him to. Of course I wanted him to, I wanted him to participate more than he was willing to ask for, but I wasn't letting on to that just yet. I was going to stick to my plan.

While his hands stroked my back and head, I posed a question to him. "Would it bother you if I was to start pumping in the living room? I'm tired of being stuck in my bedroom so often and I don't like feeling so alone while I'm doing it." He tried to play it cool, but his response of, "of course I don't mind, anything I can do to help!" sounded more excited than he was trying to let on. I knew he really wanted to see more of me, and I wanted him to. From then on, except when I had to wake up in the middle of the night to pump, I would set everything up near the couch as my pumping spot. It was easy to see the couch from anywhere except our bedrooms, due to an open floor plan. My son even started doing his schoolwork in the living room, (it was the first time since covid started) or dining room table, which left an unobstructed view as I pumped milk out of my breasts.

When it was time to pump, I would get set up, shirt off, pumps attached to my breasts, and I would have my son's complete attention. He would find any reason to talk to me face to face; constantly trying to keep eye contact but invariably they would drift to my chest. With every pumping session, my milk production was going up and up. This went on for the next three days and on the morning of the fourth day my first pump of the day produced a total of fifteen ounces. I was amazed at how quickly my supply had come in. I know I was taking medication, but even with that, I thought it would take longer. I now had multiple jars in the fridge. It was starting to look like a dairy case.

That morning, I asked my son if he wanted to try my milk since he seemed so interested in the whole process. Of course, he agreed. With a big smile on my face, I poured him a small amount of my chilled milk into a large glass and handed it to him. He looked at it for a couple of seconds, lifted it to his lips and took a small sip. A huge smile crept across his face as he swallowed it down. To say he drank the rest fast would have been an understatement. He finished every drop and proclaimed enthusiastically that it was the best drink he'd ever had. I asked if he wanted a little more and then filled the glass to the brim this time. In no time he had it to his lips and was savoring every swallow. He thanked me profusely and retired to his room almost immediately. I'm certain he's going to get rid of other fluids by taking things into his own hands, wink, wink.