Lesbian Lactation

Lesbian Lactation

An Adult Lactation, FFM Erotic Story

 

Persephone Moore

ONE.

 

I didn’t figure out who I was until my mid-twenties, which isn’t so bad compared to some people. You know, the ones who never figure it out.

It started off innocently enough; I asked my then-boyfriend what he wanted for his birthday. We were both just starting our careers after graduating from college with a load of student debt. In short, we had little money. When I asked what he wanted, I intended his answer to be some sort of sexual service or fantasy.

I was right, of course because men are predictable.

“Anal?” he asked, half-joking and half-serious. That was the problem with Dylan. He was immature even for a bro in who wasn’t yet twenty-five.

“With your big cock?” I replied. “I don’t think so.”

First off, he wasn’t that huge. He wasn’t the biggest guy I’d been with, but to put it in scientific terms he was more than one standard deviation above the mean. Probably closer to two standard deviations.

Second, I was open to the idea of anal sex. He’d had his finger in my butt more than once and I’d enjoyed it, but to me anal sex wasn’t really something romantic. To be honest, it seemed so…common. Any woman could just say “fine” and sort of participate while her boyfriend tried to shove his big cock into her lubed-up ass while she just sort of participated. I didn’t want that. I wanted something we both fully wanted and desired.

“Sexy birthday spanking?” he requested.

“Who gives and who receives?” I asked him. What is it with men and asses? “Don’t forget. It’s your birthday and I’m no weak little girl.” I flexed my biceps in front of him. While I’m no bodybuilder, I spent more than enough time with Dylan running every morning. We were both in decent shape. Maybe I couldn’t bench press five hundred pounds, but neither could he.

“Too childish,” he dismissed suddenly. “Sex on the beach?”

“The drink or a trip to the Caribbean? Don’t forget I have no money to go jetting around the world and it’s the middle of winter. You should have told your mother not to give birth in February.”

“Three-way?” Again, he was half joking.

But I didn’t say no right away.

In fact, I hesitated too long. And he somehow managed to pick up on that.

And Dylan wasn’t stupid. “Three-way with another girl,” he clarified.

“Maybe,” I said.

“Yes! Maybe means yes!”

“Grow up.” Yeah, maybe Dylan was a bit immature, but he had a boyish enthusiasm for life that was hard to resist.

“I’ll consider it,” I told him and ended the conversation.

Honesty time. I had just started admitting it to myself, but when I masturbated, more often than not, I would fantasize about women. I was smart enough to know that meant nothing in the long run, but it meant I had a certain curiosity about sex with women. And a three-way with my boyfriend was a safe way to explore that. I could always just say that whatever I did was out of a need to make his fantasy and birthday wish come true.

It didn’t matter that I was eager for it to happen as well.

But this isn’t a confession about how I discovered I was a bi-woman. It’s also not a confession about how I discovered my lesbianism in the face of every society cue and normal that was pushing me to find a male partner.

No, this is something else entirely.

Well, maybe not entirely.

 

“Pull up your shirt,” Dylan said.

I grunted and did as he asked. Generally I wore a t-shirt and panties to bed. I had a few fancy nightshirts that were smooth and silky and buttoned up the front. When I wore those I didn’t have material bunched under my chin when he nursed, but it was a pain in the ass to wait while he unbuttoned my nightshirts.

Yeah, Dylan my boyfriend nursed on my tits. He was obsessed.

I told you he was immature.

First off, no I don’t and didn’t have huge tits. For reference, maybe I was a C cup or a really large B depending on the bra. That didn’t matter to Dylan; he loved my boobs anyway. To be honest, he was obsessed with tits. I didn’t mind because I’m not the jealous type, but more than once I had to remind him not to stare at a woman’s chest while talking to her.

Second off, it was only partly sexual. Dylan definitely had an oral fixation. He loved going down on me, which was fantastic. He loved sucking on my nipples, my earlobes, my fingers, anything. When we weren’t having sex, he was chewing gum or eating something. He would have had a better body if he could keep things out of his mouth. I was just glad he didn’t smoke. Gross.

Third item, I did like it. I complained, but I liked it. It wasn’t quite fifty-fifty, maybe sixty-forty, but him just sucking on my nipples when we went to bed would get me ready for sex faster than anything else. Often it was just a way to relax and drift off to sleep. We would cuddle. I’d hold him against me and eventually I’d be off to dreamland. He said he loved listening to my heart beat while he nursed. I think he just loved having my nipple in his mouth. Either way, it was fine.

Or rather, it was fine until about a year into our relationship when I noticed that my tits were bigger and I wasn’t just putting on weight. And my breasts were sore almost all the time. And then, because a couple of unimportant things, Dylan didn’t nurse on me for three nights running, my breasts were approaching a pain threshold they had never had before, I started massaging them for some relief.

I was surprised and then a bit pissed off when my nipples started leaking milk.

It wasn’t much but after my initial jolt of panic (at first when I felt the wetness I thought I was bleeding!) I realized it was just milk.

Just milk.

After a panic call to my doctor, she reminded me that hormone birth control combined with steady nipple stimulation could result in unintended milk production. No, it wasn’t dangerous but if I wanted it to stop, just have my boyfriend not stimulate my nipples for a few weeks and maybe go off hormone birth control.

Truth time. I liked him sucking on my tits. And while I wasn’t averse to trying another type of birth control, I wasn’t going to rely on condoms right away. My stupid insurance at the time would only cover the pill, anything more expensive was out of my price range.

I was more than happy to let Dylan suck on my tits and get a little milk. It didn’t hurt. It turned him on. It drew us closer.

And I had to admit, I liked it. Sometimes it didn’t just relax me. Sometimes it didn’t just lead to sex. Sometimes it got me off.

I was willing to provide milk and tits to Dylan as long as I got off too.

He got me off plenty.

 

So all was good. And then Dylan wanted a three-way.

I’m pretty sure it was going to be a one-off thing. A fun one-off but a one-off nonetheless.

But where does one go to find a woman willing to participate in a one-time and one-time only three-way with a straight couple (with the woman being secretly bi-curious)?

Today, there’s dozen different websites along with sleazy Craigslist. But I wasn’t going that route. I had a better idea.

My job wasn’t great at the moment, but it was sure to lead to better things in just a year or two. To help me along the company assigned me (and all new hires) a boss who was also a mentor.

Alison was almost twenty years my senior, but still very hip and smart and I found that there was nothing I couldn’t talk to her about.

We had twice weekly meetings to focus on her mentoring me. She had told me weeks before that I could ask her anything, professional or private, and she’d do her best to help me. The first private things I asked her about were simple enough: rent and housing issues along with how to settle into a new city. Then I asked for help in dealing with my hurtful and hateful cousin. I doubt she expected my next request.

“So, Julianne, anything I can help you with this week?”

We usually met at the end of the day so she could say she was wrapping things up and could leave on time. Or we could hide in her office until whatever end of day crisis blew over.

“I’ve got a private, personal request,” I told her.

“Okay. Fire away.” Alison leaned back in her chair and swept her straight blond hair off her face to tuck it behind her ears. She looked younger than she was, which often disarmed those she dealt with every day in the office.

“It’s about my boyfriend.”

She smiled and tilted her head to the side. “Advice for the lovelorn? I’m a divorced woman, so I might not be the best person to ask.”

“It’s more less of love advice and more…you know, physical love sort of thing.” I was chickening out, something Alison had told me never to do.

She sat upright and glared at me. “Ask the question.” It was more of an order and there was just a hint of anger in her voice. I was showing confusion and uncertainty which were things she had told me never to do. Ever.

“Dylan’s birthday is coming up soon and he wants to have a…three-way with me and another woman.”

“Oh.” It was impossible to read her expression. She wasn’t angry or confused. “And you don’t want to do that?”

“Uh…it’s not that.”

“Good,” she interjected. “Never be afraid to have new experiences as long as they aren’t exceedingly dangerous. You should explore your sexuality when you’re young.” She stopped philosophizing for a second and looked at me. “So, what’s the problem.”

“He wants me to find the third for us…and I don’t have the faintest idea of where to start.”

She smiled. “Oh. That’s easy enough to solve. Is there any one particular type of woman you’re looking for or will any young, attractive woman do?”

Alison was suddenly acting like a pimp and I had no idea how to deal with that. “Uh…I don’t have anyone or any type in mind.”

“Good. Open to anything. I can work with that. I’ll be happy to solve your problem. Give me a day.”

“What?” I was confused.

“Julianne, honey, I was in a similar situation when I was around your age. My solution…didn’t go well for me at all.” She shuddered from her memories. “Let me help you out in this situation. I think I know exactly what you need.”

 

I trusted Alison. I probably trusted her a little too much, but she had never steered me wrong before. There was nothing to do but wait. I hadn’t given her a deadline and there really wasn’t one. Dylan wouldn’t turn down a three-way just because it came a week after his birthday. He was a man after all.

I was excited about what I was planning for him, but I couldn’t tell Dylan. I couldn’t talk about it with Alison because she was too busy. I couldn’t tell any family members because…ugh. Who wants to hear about the sexual adventures of their sister/daughter/cousin? I couldn’t tell anyone. But just the idea percolating in my mind kept me on edge all the time which was to Dylan’s advantage. We had a simply incredible amount sex over the next week. Usually we were, at most once a day, but suddenly we shifted to twice a day and a couple of the times I woke up in the middle of the night to initiate midnight sex. I don’t know if Dylan remembered those sessions, but they were exactly what I needed.