Quinn's Quicies 01: Miling Mommy

"Mom?" I yelled as I walked into the house. I hadn't been home for at least a week and the washing pile I had built up at college was quite impressive both in size and odor.

"Mom?" I shouted again. Where was she I wondered? Her car was in the drive. She couldn't be far. She hardly left the house since my baby brother had been born.

It was pretty strange having a baby brother at my age. But mom had he fallen pregnant with me when she was still in high school and she was barely in her mid thirties now.

For a long time it had been just the two of us. Then Brian had come along.

Brian was fine but, frankly, I knew my mom could do better.

But she had seemed so happy to marry Brian, and even more so when, shortly afterwards, she had fallen pregnant with my half brother, Ian.

"Mom?" I called a third time as I climbed the steps to the second floor.

Things had changed considerably with the arrival of Ian. I had nothing against the kid, but he was hard work. He hardly seemed to sleep or eat and, when he was awake, he cried all the time.

We had yet to form any sort of a brotherly bond. Despite my efforts to make the hour and a half long drive home from college as often as I could.

I also did it because I could see my mom had been taking a lot of strain lately.

She had confided in me that Brian was hardly at home any more since Ian was born. He could not deal with the stress of raising a newborn.

"Mom?" I called a little softer, realizing that she might be putting Ian to sleep.

Then I heard an odd sound. A muffled sobbing was coming from my mom and Brian's room.

Tentatively I opened the door and saw her.

It was a confusing sight to take in. My mom was there, but I could not see her face. Her usually honey colored hair was wet and hung limp in dark tresses over her eyes. Her shoulders rose and fell with her sobs.

A tingle like an electric shock ran through me as I took in the rest of the scene. She was topless, the white towel she had been wearing had slipped and had pooled around her waist and hips. Her nipples were just covered where they made contact with her thighs.

I felt guilty, but I could not help pausing far longer than was necessary to take her in.

My mom's tits had always been something of an issue for me. They were, simply put, gigantic. As far back as I could remember I had been aware of strange men leering at her. Later, when I became a teenager it was all my friends who were trying to peer down her top. In any room I could tell, almost without looking, how many men were staring at her tits. It always made me angry.

I will admit to acting out in some pretty atrocious ways to drive off any potential boyfriends she might had when I was younger. But I was always good to her. She was close to perfect in every way and I had not yet met a man worthy of her.

Brian only got through my line of defense because I had been away for my first year of college.

I tolerated his presence because he had made my mom happy, at least in the beginning. But if she was crying because of him I was going to murder that motherfucker.

My protective instinct awoke and I wanted to punch something. She looked so vulnerable, so beautiful in the shaft of light that speared through the half drawn bedroom curtains.

I felt shame that, while this was going on, I could not help but stare at the way her tits jiggled with each sob.

Since the birth of Ian her mammaries had grown even more swollen with breast milk and now each was even larger than my head, and then some.

I wondered, dimly in the back of my mind, what they might feel like to the touch.

"Chase?" I was jolted from my reverie at the sound of my own name. I looked up from where I had blatantly been staring at my mom's naked breasts and saw her red rimmed eyes were staring back at me. I felt heat and color infuse my cheeks.

There was no hiding from her that I been looking at her. Maybe because she was so used to it from men in general, or maybe because she was just glad to see me, but she quickly pushed the awkwardness aside and asked.

"What are you doing home, baby?"

"Um" I stammered as I struggled to recover from my embarrassment. "Hi mom."

She had hastily moved to cover herself, drawing one arm across her chest, but was doing a poor job of it. There was just too much real estate to cover and my eyes strained with the effort to keep focused above her neckline.

"Are you okay?" It was all I could think to do to redirect the conversation back at her.

She smiled through her tears and held out her one free arm to show she wanted a hug. I hesitated briefly, then rationalised that she was my mom after all and it wasn't that weird.

I approached her and bent down to give her a hug that still kept our bodies as far apart as possible.

"Oh, Chase. I feel better now you are home."

She was so warm, and she smelled like the rose scented shampoo I associated with comfort. I tasted the salt of her tears as my mouth brushed her cheek.

I would have broken my weak hug there if I could have, but she was a mother and she pulled me in tight, causing me to lose my balance, slightly.

I felt a strange stirring within me at the touch of her bared flesh against me. She winced and let out a small hiss at the contact.

I backed away quickly and looked at her grimace with concern, asking "Seriously, mom, are you alright?"

"Nothing that should worry you, baby."

"Mom?" I gave her a level stare. We were closer than any other mother and son I knew. Partly it was because of our relative closeness in age, but also it was because for most of our lives we had only had each other. We confided everything in one other.

She was the first person I had told when I lost my virginity. She had been really happy for me, only acting like a normal mom when she reminded me to always use a condom. But then, given her history, that was not surprising.

Looking abashed she replied with a sigh, "It's a lot of things, Chase. Your brother has been impossible, I have only just got him down now and it took me over an hour. Brian is hardly ever here any more and I am starting to realise he wasn't ready to raise a baby."

"Want me to kill him?" I was only partially joking. I did not like the idea that Brian was hurting my mom like this.

She actually laughed a little at this and it warmed me to hear it. "No, that's just a small part of it. To be honest he gets so angry every time he hears Ian cry that, I hate to admit it, I feel a little relieved when he doesn't come home until late. I think what I am finding hardest right now is that Ian just won't feed."

I gave her a confused look, not fully understanding her implication, then reddened when I caught her eyes involuntarily drop to her partially covered chest.

"Oh." I said, then "Oh!"

"Yeah, and I don't think you understand how hard that is for a mother. You were such a good little feeder. You made it so easy even though I was little more than a kid myself and didn't have a clue what I was doing. I feel even less prepared for it now, even though I am old and this is not my first time."

"Mom," I scoffed, "You are not old. Literally everyone who meets us for the first time thinks you are my sister."

"Oh, you, stop" she slapped my arm lightly then said, "Actually wait, go on."

I laughed this time and I found I had leaned in a little closer to her, despite my discomfort with her nudity. The sunlight coming through the window made a little island of warmth for us.

When she had slapped my arm she winced again and then began to rub the top of her right breast. The flesh there looked engorged and stiffer than it ought be.

Seeing my concern she added "The worst of it is I am in so much pain. With Ian not feeding, these," she looked down and searched for a polite word, "things,' are so full of milk I feel like they want to burst. I can't tell you how uncomfortable they are."

"Have you tried a pump?"

"Three! None of them are built to fit someone of my, erm, proportions. They just won't form a close enough seal to create suction." She indicated to one such device I had not noticed before, which had clearly been hurled into one corner of the room. It was now in several pieces. That, from what I could discern, seemed to be what had started her spiral into despair.

I nodded sympathetically and tried not to think about looking down at those self same generous proportions,

"The only thing that helps is to massage them, but even that is futile because I just can't get enough leverage. I really need help."

"What about Brian?"

"Brian," she spat the name with venom, "Wants me to stop breastfeeding and put Ian on formula. He says I look like a dairy cow and won't come anywhere near me until I get my old body back."

"Asshole."

She nodded, and then sniffed. I could see the tears I thought I had banished return to the corners of her eyes.

"Hey," I patted her shoulder, "Don't"

"I'm not sure I can do it anymore."

She looked so abject the words just slipped from my mouth before I could properly consider them, "Can I help?"

She shook her head, the motion cause a single tear to spill over over her lower lid and run down her cheek to her chin. "I couldn't ask you to do that, Chase."

"Mom," I placed my hand a bit more confidently on her shoulder, "I want to help. You need help. What can I do? There's never been anything weird between us, why would it start now?"

I saw her shaking lip firm a little into the closest approximation she could make to a smile. "Really?" She asked.

Her expression was so desperate that any thought that I might renege on my hasty offer evaporated.

Still, she hesitated, chewing on her lower lip, as if reconsidering what she was about to ask me to do. Finally, she said, "Would you help massage me? I know it's a bit odd, but I wouldn't ask if I wasn't desperate."

"Okay," I sounded about as confident as I felt.

She brightened visibly and said, "Great! Oh, thank you Chase. You're the only person I've ever been able to rely on. The only person I can trust completely."

That awoke the little cinder of pride centered in my chest, and I felt a lot better about what I was about to do.

What was I about to do?

I swallowed hard.

She showed me then what she wanted. Shyly she took her covering arm away, revealing the full glory of her breasts to me.

"Brian is a fucking idiot," I breathed as softly as I could, but I suspected, by the little crinkle of amusement that appeared in her eye, she heard at least part of it.

To be perfectly honest, her breasts looked fake, though I knew for a fact they were not. That would have been like bedazzling a masterpiece. They were cartoonishly inflated and seemingly free of the natural sag the laws of gravitation suggested they should have. Her areolae, only a few shades darker than the skin around it, were stretched painfully wide. The nipple at the centre of each was large and pointed out proudly just below the centre of each swelling.

Misinterpreting my discomfort, she draped the hand towel she had intended to use to dry her hair over the top of her left breast. She thought I was disturbed by having to touch her boob, when really it was because of hardness that had awoken painfully in my groin.

I knew it was wrong to feel this way about my mother, but she was the most beautiful woman I had ever known. And those titties should have been in a museum.

She guided my hands into position on her breast and showed me how to press in and down. It was not long after I started that the surreality that I was milking my own mother like a cow really struck home.

The weird thing was that it was exciting me so much I found it difficult to catch my breath. The denim of my jeans now strained against my fully fledged erection.

While I worked, feeling the firm flesh beneath the towel reluctantly mold itself to my touch, she placed a small jug over her nipple and bent slightly forward to aid the flow of milk now beading out of her puckered nipple.

The flow was frustratingly slow, and I could see the discomfort it was causing my mom. Finally, tired of how the insensitivity, caused by the towel between us, kept making me lose the correct hold on her, I whipped it away in a flash of annoyance.

My mom made no protest when I put my hands directly on her hot skin. The feel of her flesh was incredible in its pliant elasticity. Unfettered, my hands found it easier to massage out the milk trapped in her breast. The little droplets formed faster and I really thought I had made a difference.

But, after about ten minutes of this intimate massage, my mom stopped me. I felt bad when I saw that I had actually caused her more pain. Worse still, when she held up the jug we both saw that, dismally, the bottom of it was barely covered in milk.

Mom began to cry again, saying, "it's no use, Chase. Thank you, but it's no good. I really need Ian to start feeding. That is the only way to drain them without leaving me black and blue." She stroked my cheek tenderly and said, "Thank you for trying, but I am just going to have to deal with it." She sighed, "Maybe Brian was right. Maybe I am a bad mom. Maybe the fact that you turned out so great was just a fluke."

"No!" The forcefulness of the statement shocked even me, in a quieter tone I continued "No, Mom, this is not your fault and you are not a bad mom. You are the best mom ever. No one I know has a mom as cool as you. I will help you, I promise."

She seemed defeated, but did not stop me when I knelt on the bed and bent over, my hands trying, but failing to encircle her areola. She did not seem to care that my face was just inches away from it.

I tried everything I could to increase the flow of milk, but nothing more came out.

I could see that I was hurting her. Worse still, I could see the tears returning. That tore at my heart and I knew then I would do anything to stop her pain.

I thought about what she had said about Ian, and what she had said about how well I had fed.

I wouldn't be that weird, would it? It not like I hadn't done it before. What difference did it make that nearly twenty years had passed since then.

Besides, staring at that magnificent construction of human flesh, I really, really wanted to do it.

Before she could stop me, I shoved my face forward into her unforgiving mound and took a rubbery nipple into my mouth.

Then I began to suck.

She gasped and seemed too surprised to do anything about it.

By the time she had regained her composure enough to start saying, "No baby!. Don't..." warm creamy milk had flooded into my mouth and her protest turned into a groan of release.

I had expected it to revolt me, and had gone in with the intention of spitting the milk out into the jug she still held. Instead, I found it to be sweet and delicious. Before I could even consider it further, my body swallowed it as a reflex and I found myself eagerly drinking my mother's milk again.

"Oh, Chase, baby. You have no idea how good that makes mommy feel. I can feel the pressure going and, oooh," she gave a little exclamation of surprised as I flicked her nipple with my tongue.

I had not really thought about it, my mouth seemed to do it by itself. Every time I had had a nipple in my mouth as an adult I had treated it this way. I should have stopped there, but my mom's nipple reacted faster than I had ever experienced, leaping to attention at the slightest affectionate touch.

While I drank from her, a fully grown man almost in his twenties, I began to very subtly play with her nipple. I could not help it, it felt so wonderful in my mouth. I teased the little nubbin, first circling it and the flicking it with my tongue, feeling it grow as rigid as my cock.

Unfortunately, the angle I had started at was not a good one, and already my neck was beginning to ache. Unwilling to admit defeat, or else unwilling to look my mom in the eye if I were unable to make this a success, I quickly flipped over onto my back. I put my head on my mom's lap and tried to reach up and pull her breast back down to me, but found the angle was wrong.

I panicked a little, worried this would end just as I was really starting to enjoy it.

It came as a bit of surprise when my mother bent over me, guiding her nipple once more into my mouth. With the improved angle I felt more comfortable and the milk came from her thickly and with an increased speed.

After a short time, she moved to cradle my head in her hands and suckle me like a baby at her breast with a tenderness that made my erection seem to double in size. I could barely breath with the weight of her oversized mammary pressing down on me, but it was the most comfortable, safe place I could ever recall being.

"Oh, thank you Chase, baby," she whispered, "You are helping mommy so much. I wish there was a way I could repay you."

If my mouth had not been full of her nipple I might have told her there was no need. I owed my whole life to her and, besides, what I was getting to do to her was repayment enough.

As it was, as she shifted her position on the bed, she lost her balance and put out a hand to stop herself falling back. Her hand landed on the iron rod I was now sporting in my trousers.

"Chase!" She exclaimed, "Are you?" She left question unfinished.

For the first time I willingly released her nipple from my mouth. Red faced I tried to explain, "I can't help it mom. It's been a while since I've... you know. And you are so beautiful. It's just my body reacting on its own. I swear it's nothing pervy."

"Has it really been a long time?" Her face showed a deep sympathy. It was just like my mom to take issue with the fact that I wasn't getting laid. I didn't want to tell her that I could have had sex a half dozen times that morning and I still would have gotten hard for her magnificent tits.

"Yeah," I replied, not moving my head from her lap, "Well, since Ian and everything I've been trying to get home as often as I can to help out. That, combined with the workload of my course, mean I don't have a lot of time to see anyone right now. But it's really not a big deal." I hoped she would let the subject drop so that I could suck on her tits some more.

But she persisted, "You are so good to me, Chase. I feel so terrible that you have all this tension building up because of me."

I tried tell her I really didn't mind, but she dismissed it with a hand gesture, saying "No, I remember what it was like. After I had you I was alone for a very long time. I know how painful it can be to go untouched and unloved for all that time. Let me help you a little, baby."

"Mom?" The question was unbelieving. Was she really suggesting what I think she was suggesting?

For answer she pulled my head once more to her breast and any further protest was smothered by its weight.

"Relax, baby. It's not much different from what you are doing me. I had a painful swelling and you milked me to relieve it. Let me do the same for you."

I squirmed involuntarily as I felt her hand slide over my denim covered bulge.

Was mom really rubbing my dick?

I tried not to consider it too deeply. Instead, as I drank, I resumed my little tortures on her engorged nipple.

Her deft fingers plucked at the button of my jeans, and then undid my fly. A warm hand reached into the slit in my boxers and then my dick was free and out in the open. My mother's hand gripped it tightly.

"Oh my, baby," she crooned, "you really have grown into a big man. I don't think I have ever..." but she stopped there. Opting instead to gently tug at my cock.

It was a testing gesture, as if she were checking to see it really was what she thought it to be. She began slowly after that. Her hand encircled my girth, not quite getting all the way around, before sliding up and down.

While she stroked my cock, she first lifted and then twisted her upper torso so that her second, much neglected bosom, dropped into my mouth.