We were on our second Margaritas when Melissa caught me looking at her cleavage. She smiled and leaned across the little bar table, her brown, curly hair hanging in ringlets around her pretty face: "Hey, can I tell you a secret?"

She and I weren't really going out, not exactly. I didn't know what the heck we were, to tell the truth. I'd met her because I work with a friend of hers, and a few times she'd come out for drinks with a bunch of us from my office. I guess we hit it off; we both know an insane amount of detail about the Star Wars universe, and we're both really into archaic console versions of Mortal Kombat. (I still think it's kind of amazing that a girl is into stuff like that.) We always found a lot to talk about.

So now we were meeting for drinks sometimes, after work. We would usually meet at this bar on Kearny Street called Murphy's Pub, partly because it was close enough to where each of us worked, and partly because she liked hearing the Irish accents. (The bartenders and the waitresses are mostly from Ireland, for real. They do not like it much when someone orders a Margarita in their Irish bar, but they'll serve you anyway.)

I figured that I'd been friend-zoned, and I didn't really care. Melissa was nice, and she was cute, but she was just someone from my loose circle of friends, and I wasn't really looking for a new girlfriend anyway. We'd sit and drink and talk about stuff; surprisingly, she actually wanted to talk about graphic novels and old video games and what a shame it was that the newer Star Wars shows didn't use all that much from the Star Wars Expanded Universe. She may have looked kind of like a magazine cover model, but she'd been in her high school Star Wars club and the Math club, and she loved to sit around with me and talk geek.

It was fun, but if she was flirting with me, I didn't sense it. And every week, after we'd been through a couple of drinks, we'd say "see ya" and I'd head home. Just a casual friendship.

Well, until last week.

It had started feeling a little date-y that last time. We weren't doing anything, no touching, no kissing, no talk of dating, nothing like that. But you know how you get that sense that something's going on? I was getting that sense. I wasn't sure what I thought about the idea of dating Melissa, but I didn't think it really mattered anyway; I wasn't looking for that. And so we'd had our drinks, and despite any new vibes I may have been picking up, we just said, "See you later," and went home (my case) or out with girlfriends (her case).

It was a week later, and here she was, having seen me sneaking a glance at her sizable boobs, wanting to know if she could tell me a secret.

"Yeah," I said. "Sure."

Melissa turned her head, apparently to make sure no one was listening. I couldn't figure anyone could hear us in a loud bar anyway. Then she turned to face me again, looking kind of serious.

"I induced lactation," she said.

I just sat there for a second, not completely sure what she just told me. "You … sorry, what?"

She had started to smile. "I induced milk. In my boobs. You know."

I must have had the most perplexed look on my face. "I don't think I know."

"Oh, c'mon," she said. "I know a few girls who are doing this; you must have heard of it."

I just gave her a blank look. "So do you mean—" I started.

"I'm lactating, yes."

Finally, the initial shock wore off, and I started to feel like I understood the conversation we were having. "But you have to have a baby to do that!"

Melissa stifled a giggle. "No, you don't. You can induce. Any girl can do it, you know, like, after a certain age and whatever."

"Just like that?"

"Oh, god no," she said. "It took me almost two months."

"Wait, um, how would you even do that? What do you have to do?" I paused. "You don't care if I ask that, do you?"

She gave me a casual, pretty smile. "It actually took less work than I expected. I'm taking this herb a few times a day. I have to do a, uh, kind of massage. But it was taking forever to get anything, and so a few weeks ago I started pumping, like, in the morning, and night, and if I'm working from home then I do it during the day, too. And that did it. It got me started.

"Oh, and—" she looked around again, quickly, then looked back at me, excitedly. "I just got an electric pump, a dual electric!"

"Pump?"

"Oh, boys are so stupid," she said, still grinning, silly. "A breast pump, to pump milk from my boobs. It really works well, so now I can just turn it on and pump while I'm on the Internet or watching Netflix or whatever."

At this point, I sat back and took a big hit off the Margarita. What the hell was I supposed to make of this, and what was she even telling me for? I mean, I was all for boobs and everything, but I'd never thought about a girl learning to make milk if it wasn't for her own baby.

After a moment: "So why did you do this?"

Melissa looked demure. "For the same reason, most girls do it."

"Um," I said. "Which is what? Sorry, I don't think I really get it."

She leaned over the table again, long ringlets of hair hanging over part of her face, covering one of her eyes. She pushed the hair aside. "They induce because they want to nurse their partners. And, you know, their partners want to nurse from them."

I just sat there with a look on my face that must've matched what I was thinking, which was something along the lines of, "What the fuck, really? People do that?"

"I think," Melissa was saying, "that it's kind of a side effect of taking Vitamin E. You get these ideas. Although I used to think about this, kind of fantasize about it, a long time ago."

What Melissa meant by "Vitamin E" is actually a prescription pill for girls (or, uh, women) called the NeoEstrus. Most of the girls I knew, who were all in their 20s or maybe early 30s, took it, or at least said they took it; the pill doesn't really do anything for guys. But girls, well, there were pretty much two reasons they went on it: one, it apparently mixed really well with alcohol; the euphoria it created for them was supposed to be amazing. The second reason was the real one, though: it made them horny, as wild and horny as a guy. All the time.

I hadn't known that Melissa was on Vitamin E, but it wasn't a huge surprise. Lots of girls were on it, and usually, you could tell; even when they weren't out to have sex, it made them seem more sensual.

I'd never been completely sure what I thought of this pill. Women's sex drive had never made sense to me anyway; if they could have multiple orgasms—endless, back-to-back orgasms, like my ex-girlfriend Mary—then why weren't they all a lot hornier? They should want to have sex all the time. The NeoEstrus pill fixed that. Girls on Vitamin E, sometimes abetted by a drink, would proposition guys with abandon, and have no remorse or even mixed feelings; it diminished the guilt and the slut-shaming that our stupid social rules had built up over the years. They wanted to go at it, with no strings; they wanted orgasms. It gave a guy's freewheeling libido to a woman's sexual capacity.

I'd been approached, sure. A girl would talk to me in a bar for a few minutes, and it all felt innocent enough. Then almost out of nowhere, she'd ask me if I wanted to go somewhere and fuck. Maybe I could go down on her? Please? She really wanted a guy to make her come. I always turned them down; for one thing, I just hadn't been in a place mentally where I was going to do something like that. And secretly, they scared me.

Confession: I'd never actually been with a girl on Vitamin E. Mary and I were together when it came out, but she had no interest. She said it was because she was a good Catholic girl, although that made no sense; she fucked like a rabbit, so why would a libido pill be a sin? Anyway, she never tried it, and didn't want to get a prescription. The birth control pill she would take, but not the NeoEstrus. The thing is, I think she could've used it. Sex wasn't the reason we fell apart, not really, but for the last few months we were doing it maybe once a week at most. Once you got her going, yeah, she really had a good time; she could come and come. A few times she had hands-free orgasms while she was giving me a blowjob. It didn't happen often, but it was still pretty amazing that she could do it at all. If she got aroused enough, she'd just come, even without being touched. You'd think that experiences like that would have made her a horny girl, but no. It took wine and romantic movies and restaurants and stuff before she'd start warming up.

So now, Melissa was sitting here telling me that she was on Vitamin E, and it'd given her some "ideas." Ideas that other girls had, too, she'd said. Ideas that had led other girls to, um, activities. Ideas that had apparently led Melissa herself to action.

I sipped on my Margarita and then leaned back against the brick wall. I looked at Melissa, who was still working on her own drink. The crowd noise had gotten noticeably louder.

"So," I started. She perked up and raised her eyebrows. "It worked?" I asked.

Melissa gave a wide smile. "You mean the induction? Hell yeah, it worked." She sipped. "My body definitely works. And I did it naturally, too; didn't have to use drugs." Big smile again.

"Well," I said. "Um, congratulations."

"Thanks," she said, somewhat shyly.

I couldn't help but steal another quick look at her boobs, but it felt a little strange now. Maybe good-strange, maybe just strange. "So you said that you know, girls do this so they can—"

Melissa interrupted, "They do it so they can nurse their boyfriends." She saw the quizzical look on my face and continued, "While they're having sex and stuff. Or, well, any time, I guess, if they want to feel close."

"Is it like the guy wants to be a baby or something?"

"No, no, not like that," she said. "I have some friends—not Julia—" (she meant our mutual friend, the one I work with) "but I have these friends who have this kind of relationship with their partners. It's not infantile or anything. They do it because it's beautiful. I mean," she leaned in toward me again, over the table, "the girl is making food in her body and giving it to her partner from a sensitive place. It makes them feel really close to each other, right? Not to mention breast milk has all these antibodies and stuff, so if the guy gets sick—well, you know guys get sick more than women do. But if he's drinking her breast milk all the time, it gives him the benefit of her immune system. Like, my friend Claire says her boyfriend never gets sick anymore, not even colds."

"Geez," I said. "Anything else? Will it let us live to be 95 and have multiple orgasms, too?"

Melissa stifled a laugh and gave me a silly mock-smug look. "Oh, you wish."

I took another drink. I was thinking about the wisdom of having another Marg.

As if reading my mind, Melissa took a sip and then announced, "I think that's my last Margarita for right now. I don't even know if I can finish this one."

"Yeah, me too, I think."

She continued: "So, anyway, some girls donate their milk, like, to milk banks. You know, for babies whose mothers can't nurse or who can't make enough milk. Actually, I only know like one girl who does that, but pretty much all my milky friends say they want to donate." She shrugged. "I don't know if they mean it, or if they feel like they have to say that just because it's a charity thing."

I took a moment and then asked the question that was now foremost in my mind.

"So why," I wanted to know, "Did you really do it? Why induce?"

She sighed and cocked her head slightly. A finger played with one of the ringlets in her hair.

"Um," she said. "I guess because I used to think about what it would be like. And I've always been kind of sensitive in, uh, that region, so I thought it could get sort of interesting, like, you know, in the right circumstances."

She took a sip of her drink. "Also, I had this friend who had a baby when we were 16," she said, looking almost embarrassed for some reason, "and I was always really fascinated with how her boobs made milk. I kept trying to imagine that mine would be able to do that, too, someday. It seemed amazing. So I guess I used to think about it a lot."

Melissa took another sip and smiled at me shyly. "Mostly I wanted to know if I could. I wanted to see if I could have that power."

I nodded. "And now you have."

"And now I have," she said. "Also, I wanted to know what it would feel like to, um, you know, maybe nurse a guy, to know what it feels like, and sort of have that kind of a special secret with someone."

"And now you have," I said, again.

She shook her head. "Not yet. I haven't done that yet. I mean, there's a guy I think I'd like to try nursing, but I don't know if he'd be into it or not."

My heart started pounding because I was suddenly pretty fucking sure what she meant, what all of this meant. She glanced up at me, meaningfully.

I was talking again before my brain was even engaged. "Is that …?"

She looked directly at me. "Yes, it's you, fuck-head."

I felt my face flush and waves of shock pass through me in strange, warm tingles. It was like I'd entered another dimension.

"Really?" I choked.

"Well, yeah," she said. I was in shock; I could barely hear her.

I didn't know what to say, and I didn't know what to think, and I just sat there, feeling stunned. This girl who was on Vitamin E and who I'd been meeting for drinks just for fun: she had a thing for me. More than a thing, I guess. What did I think? And if she was on Vitamin E, why the hell hadn't she ever asked if I wanted to fuck or, well, whatever? Girls on the NeoEstrus were usually really forward.

I let out a breath and looked across the table. She's kind of hot, I realized; it was dawning on me for the first time that I actually thought this. I mean: pretty face, beautiful hair, and her body were, well, attractive.

And she was smart and funny, and she liked some really cool shit (did I mention she's into seinen anime?). So why hadn't I made a move before? What the fuck, dude?

Right then I knew why: Mary. Every girl was getting compared to Mary, and coming up short because there would never again be a Mary.

Which had absolutely nothing to do with Melissa; she had nothing to do with Mary breaking up with me and nothing to do with the unresolved feelings I had. Fuck those feelings.

I was about to say something when I started thinking about this other issue. Did I want to—I didn't know how to think about this—did I want to taste Melissa's milk? This is what she wanted. Dude, I said to myself, she's lactating, she induced lactation, and she wants to know if you'll try it. What. The. Fuck.

And then, after a moment, simply enough, I answered myself: what's wrong with that? I had never in my life thought of anything like this, but the way Melissa talked about it really did sound sensual and even sexual. Really sexual.

She was saying to me: "So what do you think?"

I had a slightly awkward smile."Um, OK, yeah. I'm interested."

She looked at me brightly.

Then, I said, "I just need to know a little more, just because, you know, I've never even heard of this."

"You live a sheltered life, Josh."

"I'm sure I do. I know I do. OK, but … I mean, how is this done? Um, like, would we have to be naked and stuff?"

"No," she answered, quickly. "No, we don't have to be, but, well, obviously I'd have to open my top. I don't think you'd mind that, would you?"

I just gave her a big, stupid grin. I was so busted.

"So listen," she said. "This is what I think. Let's get an Uber and go to my place. You can try it out, and if you like it, well, that's great."

I nodded.

"And if you don't, I'll just give you a blowjob and we can call it a night."

We found a cab after only a couple of minutes.

—

"I thought you had a roommate," I said as we walked in and she turned on the lights. Her apartment had a light, pleasant floral scent that I noticed immediately.

"Not anymore," Melissa said as she set her keys on the counter, unhitched her purse from her shoulder, and dropped it along with her laptop bag onto a chair. "I've been in this place for like a month, and it's just me."

"Wow," I said. "I mean, this has to be expensive."

"Yeah," she said. "$4,300 a month. I know, I'm getting robbed. But once I started at Redac I really got a decent raise, so I can afford it."

I quietly suppressed any feelings of envy that might otherwise be rising; there was no way I could afford $4K a month. So what, she was a Marketing Consultant or something. They make a lot of money.

"Anyway," she said, "want a drink? Wine?"

"Wine would be good, yeah."

She opened her fridge and pulled out a bottle of chardonnay; girls, sheesh. She pulled off a rubber cork with a small whoosh. "You OK with white wine? It's all I have right now."

"Yeah, sure, I like white." Well enough, I guess.

She was pouring two glasses. "This is really good; it's from Sonoma."

"Yeah, Sonoma's good."

Melissa paused to put her iPhone in a docking station and turned it on: chill music, kind of like the ocean set to song. "For mood," she said.

I took my glass of wine from the counter.

"OK", she said. "Come and sit on the couch."

We sat down, and I was sitting right next to her so that our legs touched, which was really as much my doing as it was hers. She turned to face me, glass in the air. "To, um, experiments," she said with a shy smile. "Successful experiments."

"To experiments," I concurred. We dinged our glasses, and we both took sips.

We sat there for a minute, each drinking a little more of the wine (which I have to admit was pretty good wine, by the way).

I took a breath. "I don't really know how to start this."

"You still want to try, though, right? You're still OK with it?"

"Yeah," I said, in a quiet voice. "I am."

"OK," she said, thoughtfully. "I think we should start with this." She set her wine glass down on the coffee table and turned to me.

Suddenly she was putting her face to mine and pushing her lips against my lips, and we were kissing, and both our mouths had opened just slightly, and our tongues met for the first time, and I could taste the Chardonnay in her mouth.

Melissa let out a low purr as we kissed.

It ended. Our lips parted slowly and stuck together slightly, and I could tell she was starting to smile. She smelled like soft perfume, wine, and limes, all good.

"I just figured we should start off with that," she was whispering. "It can't hurt. Maybe warm us up."

I whispered back: "I don't think it hurt."

I put my wine glass down, too. We were kissing again, my tongue feeling tingly as it slid smoothly across hers.

This time, when we parted, Melissa sat herself back. She'd been wearing a stylish yellow cardigan, and now she was taking it off. Underneath she had on a sleeveless blouse, I guess a kind of lavender color or something. She stopped and looked into my eyes. Then she started to unbutton.

I was suddenly very nervous. I'd been with plenty of naked women before, but this felt really different.

She didn't take the blouse off; she just opened one side of it and showed me a large, pastel-colored bra cup. Then, she slipped the bra strap off her shoulder and pulled her arm out of it. Her bra cup was loose now, just hanging on. She looked at me again and smiled silently.

I expected her to pull the cup away, but she didn't. Instead, she laid back against some pillows and then gestured: "C'mere," she said.

I sort of crawled up so that I was almost in her lap, laying partly on her, partly next to her on the couch. "Let me know if I start crushing you or something," I told her.

"You're fine," she said. Then, she pushed me down, hard, so that my head was in front of her chest, in front of that bra cup. She cuddled my head with her hand.

I heard the sound of my breathing, jagged.

Then, Melissa pulled her bra cup down.

Her breast seemed even bigger than I'd imagined, rounder and fuller and, well, just big. It had a nice teardrop shape.

My face was about six inches away from it, and I just lay there and breathed and stared. Her areola was surprisingly large; it covered most of the "face" of her breast. I had always liked breasts like that. The nipple itself was big, too; it was kind of thick, and it looked swollen, and its color seemed to be slowly changing from light pink to a near-red. I noticed that her tan line ran right at the edge of her areola.

Melissa's fingers appeared at the base of the nipple and started doing some sort of squeezing massage. I just watched in awe. She massaged and massaged, her nipple wiggling around, and I felt her sigh, and then she massaged some more. I thought about offering to help somehow but thought better of it.

Just when she seemed to be getting frustrated, a couple of tiny white-ish dots appeared on the blunt end of her nipple. "Oh, here we go," she said.

Up until this point, none of this had seemed real; I guess I didn't truly believe it. Now, I suddenly knew: she really, actually had induced milk, and it was there, a few inches away from my face.

Her finger picked up the droplets and wiped them across my lips. I licked, instinctively, tasting her. It was surprisingly sweet! And, well, it tasted pretty good. Really good.

"OK, then," Melissa was whispering. "Put your mouth on me."

I opened a little, starting to move toward her chest.

"No," she said, stopping me, "you have to open wide." She traced the edge of her areola with a finger. "All the way to here," she said.

I noticed, looking closely, that there were tiny bumps on her areola, and that it was developing an oily sheen, almost as if preparing for me. This turned me on even more, and I felt my cock thicken.

"OK," I said, and I opened my mouth wide enough to swallow her areola, and I lowered my head to her breast.

It all happened in slow motion: my face was getting closer to her, and I could feel the heat from her skin, and Melissa was pushing her chest out toward me, and she was cupping her breast and squeezing it so that it bulbed out a little, and then it started to touch my lips. Then I was fastening my mouth over her areola, and I started trying to nurse her.

I had sucked nipples before, yes. This felt different. For one thing, we were not having sex; it felt more like we were snuggling. I was settled in next to the soft warmth of her body; I could smell her perfume, the soft scent of her skin, and maybe her deodorant. I could feel her chest as she made purring sounds. Her hand was holding my head, pressing me to her breast; her other hand was still holding the breast to my mouth. It felt very intimate, but not exactly sexual. Certainly, it did not feel like I was a baby; it seemed kind of like when Mary and I were fucking and she would have these super-human orgasms again and again, and I would just watch it happening. I was feeling in awe of the female body.

I hadn't had any milk from the nipple yet. I wasn't sure what I was doing wrong, but Melissa could read my mind.

"Now," she whispered to my ear, "you have to start sucking a little more steadily. Just suck and release, not too hard, just keep it gentle. Give my whole areola sort of a soft squeeze with your mouth. In a rhythm, like a pulse."

I tried to follow her instructions. I wondered how she knew what to tell me since she hadn't done this with anyone yet. Blogs? Books? Articles?

"That's good, keep it up," she said. "Keep your lips around my areola, make a good latch. Try to keep a tight seal on me."

She made another purring sound and her hand played with my hair. My chin scratched against the bra cup she'd pulled down from her breast.

"This is so nice, already," she sighed. "It's what I hoped it would be like." I could feel the vibration of her voice in her chest.

I still hadn't had any milk, and now, remembering the tiny taste she'd rubbed across my lips, I wanted to take it from her nipple.

"I'm still a little nervous," she was whispering. "I need to relax so I can let down. Keep sucking like that, keep it steady." The hand holding her breast started massaging it, squeezing in a strong, slow rhythm. It was obvious she had practiced this; it was probably what she'd done to help induce milk in the first place.

I felt her take a deep, long breath and let it out in a slow sigh. I was sucking firmly, and I opened my mouth a little more around her areola. It felt like a good latch, a solid latch. Her breast was firm, and that made it easy for me to suck on her with a little bit of force.

She let out a quiet noise, as though maybe someone had gently poked her (but I hadn't).

I wasn't sure what it meant for a second or two, and then I knew: I tasted a wonderful sweetness that grew until I could feel a small pool of warm liquid gathering inside my mouth.

Melissa sighed, and said, "I let down."

I didn't want to stop sucking, but I grunted an "mmm-hmm!" to let her know that I'd noticed.

When I swallowed, it was a small but audible gulp.

"Oh, Josh," she whispered, her voice sounding emotional. Her finger was caressing my cheek.

I don't know how long, exactly, I lay there against her, taking milk from her. It could've easily been twenty minutes. It was hard work, suckling, but this was still the most pleasant span of time I could remember. Why would I have had a problem with this? It seemed like the most natural, most sensual, and pleasing thing I'd done, well, maybe ever. It seemed like such an obvious thing to do: the girl's body makes milk and she feeds it to the guy. Yes, it might improve his health and whatever, but it was also an intimate way for two people to just be together without the urgency of sex. She made food in her breast and was giving it to me from her nipple. Simple, natural, and good.

Her breast skin felt warm against my cheek; it almost felt hot. We were quiet together for a long time, and I listened carefully to the cadence of her breathing as I nursed. Once in a while, I'd notice the chill music she'd put on; I liked the effect it had on me.

She whispered to me: "I don't know if this matters to you, but this really feels nice, even nicer than I'd imagined. Really good."

That made me pop off her breast. There was a trace of milk on her areola; I licked it off. I looked up at her face. "I was hoping it felt good for you."

"It does." She had a beatific smile. "How is it? What's it like?" She sounded like she'd been very curious.

"I—" I faltered, and then I sat up against a couch cushion. I was level with her face now. "I don't know how else to put it," I said. "It's pretty awesome. Tastes delicious."

This time, I was the one who started the kiss. We kissed for maybe a minute.

"I can taste myself on your tongue," she smiled, amused.

I gave her another peck on the lips.

"So, I think I've got a problem," she said. "Look here."

She indicated her other breast, the one still covered by her blouse and bra. The blouse had a dark stain on it over her breast; it had been leaking. "I think this one is feeling left out."

"Oh, well, we can't have that."

Melissa stood and stretched her arms. Then she pulled her blouse completely off and tossed it aside. She reached behind her back and started undoing her bra clasp. "I probably need to get some front-opening bras, or maybe a nursing bra. You know, just in case this ever happens again."

I just nodded.

She pulled her bra off and stood above me, naked from the waist up, thin, busty, and beautiful. "Some of my girlfriends just wear nursing bras all the time—the ones who nurse, I mean," she said. "The bras are dowdy as all hell, but you can fit nursing pads in them pretty easily, and obviously it gives you easy access when you want it."

"I don't know what those things are," I confessed.

"Oh, nursing pads are just, well, they're just pads you put over your nipples in case you leak. I haven't really had a problem—well, except for right now—but I haven't been pumping more than a few ounces total in a day, max. If I was nursing all the time, I dunno, I might start making so much that I'd need some pads."

"What's a nursing bra?" I asked, honestly curious.

"Oh, just a bra with cups that come open," she said. "They have fasteners on the cups and they can just come off, or pull down, or whatever. And there's room to fit pads in there like I said. I wish they made some that were a little more sexy; maybe they do, I'm not sure, I guess I need to look."

She sat down next to me again, close. She spoke right at my face, her breath like sweet flowers: "Are you ready to start again?"

I pushed her down onto the pillows and climbed next to her so that I could reach her other (right) breast. She turned her chest toward me; her nipple was in my face. The left nipple, the one I'd been at, was huge and long compared to this one. Obviously, it was the suckling that had done that.

Melissa purred. "OK," she said. "I'm ready to go."

She took a hand and squeezed her boob out at me; the areola looked huge. I opened my mouth really wide for her and surrounded it, latching on. It felt like my lips and her areola were making this magical, tight wet seal together.

Melissa was squeezing herself in a slow rhythm again, and I started sucking at her. The big, growing bump of her nipple rubbed the roof of my mouth and the back of my tongue. Her other hand was holding my head again, and playing with my hair, pulling me to her chest.

This time it came fast: I could taste it before I could feel it, but it was definitely happening. She had, as she put it, let down into my mouth.

I noticed that she was breathing more heavily this time, and also, I could actually feel the flow of her milk. At the first breast, I could feel it, too, after a while, but at this one, it seemed more obvious, maybe a stronger flow. It tasted good, really good. I realized that the thing that kept me going with such urgency, sucking and sucking for minutes at a time, was—besides the closeness—the pleasant taste of her milk. I could feel it filling my stomach.

She let out an, "ohhh," like something was wrong, and I almost let go of my latch to ask if she was okay, but she whispered that she was fine. I wasn't sure what was up, but I kept working at her nipple.

As Melissa had told me, I sucked and released, sucked and released; I wasn't pulling my lips off the areola, but I let the nipple withdraw from the back of my mouth a bit before I sucked it back again. It was a rhythm. Actually, I realized, in my haze, that I was sucking and releasing roughly with the same rhythm that Melissa was squeezing her breast.

Melissa started shifting. I could hear her taking big breaths, and I could feel and hear her soft moaning.

When she made a sudden, throaty gasp, I popped off the breast and looked at her. "You OK?"

"Yeah," she breathed. "Yeah, I'm just … just really getting into this."

I didn't know what to say and just looked at her for a second.

She gave an embarrassed smile. "I'm kind of sensitive in this, um, this area." She indicated her breasts as if it wasn't obvious.

"I'm not hurting you?"

She grinned as she shook her head. "God, no," she said. "Not at all. The opposite."

I just sat there and stared at her. Her tits were amazing to look at, plump and full and proud.

She was still smiling. "Are you, you know … are you still hungry?" Melissa looked down at her right breast and gave it a small squeeze. "I don't feel empty, yet," she said, matter-of-factly. Looking up at me: "Look, this may not be the time to ask, but do you think you'd ever want to do this again?"

I felt a surge of emotion, but I tried to suppress it. "Yeah," I said, "I think I can see us doing this sometimes."

She smiled at me as if she knew: it was going to be more than just sometimes.

I settled into her chest as she lay back, and we started cuddling. I sucked her areola into my mouth and latched on. She sighed and started to squeeze and pump her big breast again, and in a few seconds, I had her delicious sweetness in my mouth.

She was talking to me: "I've tasted it—obviously, I had to try it, right?—but you've had so much of it. I really hope you like how I taste and stuff."

I released my latch for a second. "I really like it," I breathed at her nipple. "It's—I mean, you are—delicious. I can't describe exactly why it tastes so good, but it just does."

She stifled an "awww," leaned down, and kissed my lips. Then she held her breast to my mouth and I started feeding from her again.

We settled into a nice, easy rhythm. With firm suction, I was pulling her nipple toward the back of my mouth, along with a lot of her breast. I would feel the soft flow of Melissa's milk from her nipple; sometimes I could sort of sense a tiny spray, but mostly I just felt warm, sweet liquid softly gathering at the back of my tongue. Then I'd release the suction, and her nipple and breast would slide toward the front of my mouth. If I'd collected enough milk, I'd swallow at this point. Then, I'd suck her back in again.

Sometimes, when Melissa sensed me swallowing, she'd purr and stroke the back of my head.

Our snuggle became comfortable and settled. I was feeling a little bit sleepy, maybe because of the alcohol, maybe because my stomach was starting to fill with Melissa's warm milk. I was aware that my jaw felt slightly sore from making the same motion over and over, but it didn't really hurt, and I didn't care anyway. It was so pleasant just to be there at her breast, and to be pressed up against the warmth of her soft skin. Minutes passed and I barely noticed.

She was talking to me in a low voice, speaking to my ear: "So, I'm giving you mature milk," she was saying. "If you induce you don't get colostrum or transitional milk, so it's pretty much straight to the good stuff."

I had no idea what she was talking about, but I liked the sound of her voice.

She shifted slightly and stroked the back of my neck with her fingers. "My first drops were really watery and really almost too sweet, but I think what I'm giving now definitely has a flavor."

I hummed in agreement: "Mmm-hmm."

I could hear the smile in her voice: "I'm so glad you like it; I can't tell you how that makes me feel."

She was quiet for a minute or two.

When she spoke again, her voice was quieter, almost a whisper, soft and scratchy and sexy. "You're probably just about through my foremilk now. My hindmilk should start coming in pretty soon. It's a lot more creamy; I don't think it's as sweet. I actually like it better, though." She gave a soft, crackly hum, and caressed the back of my head.

I can't say for sure which kind I was tasting; the milk I was taking now did seem a little creamier, but I thought it was just about as sweet as ever. I didn't really care; I liked everything I'd tasted, whether it was her "foremilk" or "hindmilk" or whatever. All of it was pretty damned good.

Melissa was quiet again for a while. My arms, which had just sort of been laying at Melissa's sides, slid around her back, and I pulled her even closer to me. Her chest, her big breast itself, was almost smothering me, but I didn't really care.

After a few moments, she said, "God, my boobs feel better now. They were starting to get pretty swollen. You know, it's like what walking around with a hard-on or blue balls must be like. It doesn't really hurt, but it's kind of uncomfortable, and you just want some kind of release. It's like having an itch you can't scratch. I've been feeling like this all day. I didn't have time to pump this morning, that's probably why. I'm making a couple of ounces a day now, in each one. That's so much more than I expected."

I could feel the warmth of her breath on my ear and neck as she sighed.

"It's nice to be giving milk without pumping, or using my hands." I could hear a tinge of thrill in her voice as she said, "A lot nicer. You know. Actually feeding someone."

I could feel her breathing getting a little faster.

"I can feel my milk coming out of my nipple, and just knowing it's going into someone's mouth, you know, that I'm really feeding you from my body, it's so exciting."

She paused, and then: "Sorry, I've just been thinking about this for a long time. I guess it's kind of a big deal to me."

I released the suction but didn't pull off of her breast. "I like it," I said into her nipple.

She didn't say anything, but as I resumed my nursing, she stroked the stubble on my cheeks.

[continued in part 2]