Heavy Cream (Adult Nursing Fantasy)

Heavy Cream

By Lila Harvey

© 2015

This story is a work of fiction. It contains sexual content and is meant only for mature readers.

It started off as a way to earn a little extra money on the side to help support myself and my daughter. It turned into a real-life fantasy that I didn’t know I had.

It was hard being a single mom. Katie was only six months old, and I was struggling to make ends meet since her father wasn’t helping to support her at all. As soon as I told him I was pregnant, he freaked out. It didn’t matter that we had been together for almost three years at that point, or that we had often talked about getting married and starting a family soon. As soon as he was faced with the responsibility of being a father, he tried to convince me to have an abortion or give her up for adoption. But there was no way that I could do that. When I told him that, he broke up with me and moved to a different state. I think he was afraid that I was going to come after him for child support, but at that point I didn’t want him involved in my child’s life anyway. I knew it would be hard, but I resolved to raise Katie on my own.

I worked as a secretary for a law firm downtown. The pay was decent, and my boss was supportive of the frequent breaks that I would need to take so that I could pump milk for my daughter. It was frustrating at times to have to sneak off so frequently, but I was an overproducer and if I ignored that tell-tale tingle that my milk was about to let down, the front of my shirt would be drenched within minutes.

I couldn’t bear to put Katie in a regular daycare because I didn’t feel like she would get enough attention there. I wanted nothing but the best for her. So I hired a nanny who would go to our apartment during the day while I was at work. I loved her, and Katie loved her, but a nanny was a lot more expensive than daycare. Even with my nice salary, I was cutting it pretty close financially.

One day when I was pumping my breastmilk at work and leafing through a magazine, an article caught my eye. It was about several women who sold their excess breastmilk online. It seemed like a good way to make a little extra cash, and I already made more milk than Katie would ever drink. Every week I would throw out milk from the freezer, even though I hated to see all that milk go to waste. Selling it seemed like a good way to kill two birds with one stone.

As soon as Katie was asleep that night, I booted up my laptop and went to the website that had been mentioned in the magazine. I browsed a few of the ads to get a feel for them. Then I created an account and made my own ad. I wasn’t expecting much from it, but any extra bit of cash would be nice.

I woke up the next morning and sat down at the computer with my cup of herbal tea. I always checked my email first. Usually it was nothing more than a few messages from friends who wanted to check up on me or random ads. But this morning I had 57 unread emails in my inbox. Except for three of them, they all had the same subject line: Ad #47837. I clicked on the first one. It was an offer to buy 10 ounces of milk. The next email was the same thing, but from a different person. One by one, I opened them all. Apparently the market for breastmilk was more lucrative than I thought. My face lit up. If I could make enough milk, I could get a nice bit of money for it. As it was now, I couldn’t even fill half of those orders before my stash of pumped milk was gone. I made myself another cup of tea, but this time one that was supposed to help with milk production. I was going to pump as much milk as I possibly could.

I kept this up for six months – pumping as much milk as I could make and shipping it off to sellers as soon as possible. Most of my business came from repeat customers who had standing orders – all men. I didn’t ask what they did with the milk – that was their business. As long as they paid me for it, I didn’t care. I was making a pretty good supplemental income this way, and the money was easy.

That is, it was easy until my milk started to dry up. Katie had just turned one, and although I was willing to continue breastfeeding her, she started to wean herself. No matter how much herbal tea I drank or how often I pumped, my milk supply was dwindling. If I couldn’t keep selling my milk, Katie and I would be in dire financial straits again. I wasn’t sure how else I would be able to make enough money to pay the nanny unless I got a second job, but then I would only be paying more for childcare. I had to do something to keep producing; I just wasn’t sure what.

My milk production continued to decrease, and I had no choice but to let my repeat customers with standing orders know that I wouldn’t be able to complete their orders. Most of them thanked me for letting them know and told me that they would have to move on to other suppliers. I couldn’t blame them. However, one of them emailed me and said that maybe he would be able to help. I told him that I doubted that he would be able to because I had already tried everything from changing my diet to lactation pills, but he seemed confident that he would be able to get my milk flowing freely again.

We started chatting and even though he wouldn’t specifically say what he planned to do that would help, I agreed to meet him the next Saturday at a coffee shop. My nanny usually had Saturdays off and it would cost extra for her to be there on her day off, but I was desperate.

Saturday morning rolled around and I nervously got ready for my meeting with my client. His name was Michael and I knew that he worked in the city, but that was all that I knew. I didn’t get a creepy vibe from my conversations with him, but I was glad we were meeting in a public place. I had never met anyone off the internet before, and it still weirded me out a little.

I arrived at the coffee shop before he did and settled into a comfy chair with a cup of tea. He told me that he would be wearing a light blue shirt and he had dark brown hair. I scanned the customers every few seconds, trying to pick him out in between reading pages of a magazine.

“You must be Angela.” His voice startled me. Somehow, I had missed him walking in. He was tall and tan, his hands shoved into the pockets of his khakis.

“And you must be Michael.” I smiled back at him and stood up to shake his hand. He wasn’t at all what I was expecting.

“Guilty.” He smiled. “I have to say, you are even prettier than I thought you would be.” I blushed at the compliment. I gestured for him to have a seat in the chair across from mine.

“Let’s just cut to the chase,” he said. “Tell me what’s been happening. Why you haven’t been able to make as much milk.”

I told him everything in between sips of tea – all the remedies I had tried, how much I had tried pumping. My eyes started to tear up out of frustration.

“There’s still one thing you haven’t tried.”

“I seriously think I’ve tried everything,” I argued.

“What you need is a mouth on your breast, sucking from you. The mechanical pumps can’t hold a candle to what the human mouth can do.”

“But I’ve tried. Katie doesn’t have any interest in nursing anymore.”

“Then you need to find someone else to nurse.”

“Like become a wet nurse? There’s no way I could do that. I already have a full-time job. I wouldn’t be able to take on feeding a baby on demand.”

“Not a baby. I had something a little different in mind.”

“What’s that?”

He leaned over the table so that his mouth was right beside my ear. “Your milk is the creamiest, most delicious milk I’ve ever tasted,” he whispered. “I would hate it if I didn’t get to taste it anymore. I want to taste it directly from the source, to feel it flow from your breast and into my mouth.”

Part of me was shocked at having a virtual stranger talk to me like that, but part of me was aroused. I hadn’t been with a man since Katie’s dad left me, and my panties were already growing wet at the thought of my tit in Michael’s mouth. My breasts were starting to tingle, too, and if I didn’t get out of that coffee shop soon my shirt was going to be dripping wet.

“Okay. Where?”

“Get into your car and follow me.” When he stood up, I noticed that he was sporting a very sizable erection that was straining at the front of his pants. My pussy tingled. I hastily grabbed my tea and my purse. I needed to get out of there. Now.

He followed me to my car and opened the door for me. I watched him get into his shiny black Mercedes. Clearly, he had money. I followed him through the winding streets of a nice residential neighborhood, careful not to lag too far behind in case I lost him. He pulled onto a concrete driveway shadowed by oak trees. The house was brick. Simple, but nice and well-maintained.

Michael stepped out of his car and spread his arms wide.

“This is it! Home sweet home.”

“It’s lovely.” I grabbed my purse and shut my car door behind me.

“Come on in.” He unlocked the front door and pushed it open for me. I followed him into the spacious living room. “Have a seat.” He gestured to his large leather couch.

I sat down, feeling like my heart was in my throat.

“So…what next?” I asked nervously.

“Before we start, if at any point you feel uncomfortable and want me to stop, just say so.”

“Okay.”

He sat down next to me on the couch and turned me so that I was facing him. He traced a circle around my areola with his thumb, and my nipples instantly peaked.

“Unbutton your blouse.” With trembling fingers, I unbuttoned my shirt and let it fall away from my breasts, exposing the nursing bra underneath. He cupped by breasts in his hands, massaging them, getting my milk ready. I hadn’t pumped in hours, and my breasts were very full and firm. He flicked open the clasp on one side of my bra, freeing my tit. He brought his mouth down to my erect nipple and flicked it with his tongue, moistening my skin. I moaned, feeling the tingling in my breasts mirrored in my pussy. He took my nipple into his mouth and sucked, his expert tongue knowing exactly how to work my breast. He massaged my other breast while he sucked, and within seconds I could feel the pressure that meant that my milk was letting down. He moaned around my tit as he suckled hungrily, lapping up my sweet, creamy milk. I slid my hand down between my thighs and rubbed myself as he sucked. He freed my other breast and turned his attention to it, my milk already flowing and dripping onto my skirt.

The pleasure was almost too much. I loved feeling his mouth sucking me dry, his satisfied noises as he drained me of my milk. I pushed my panties aside and slid a finger inside my needy pussy, finger-fucking myself while Michael nursed from me. I reached over and starting stroking his rock-hard cock through his pants, loving the way that it grew under my touch.

“Mmm…” he moaned. “Your milk is even better straight from the source. It’s so creamy and thick and sweet.”

“Want to know what else I taste like?” I pulled my fingers from my cunt and held them up to Michael’s lips. He greedily sucked my juices off of my digits.

He closed his eyes and licked his lips as though he was savoring a fine wine.

“Mmm...like honey,” he purred.

I stood up and slid my panties off, leaving my skirt in place.

“Would you like a little more?”

Overcome with desire, I pushed him back onto the couch and straddled his face before he could reply, pressing my soaked snatch against his mouth.

His tongue lapped me from my clit down to my slit and he dug his fingers into my ass, holding me steady. He drew my throbbing bean in between his lips and sucked. The sweet, sharp sensation was almost enough to send me into convulsions. Rivulets of my milk flowed from my breasts and down my belly.

“Your little pussy is so delicious...”

He cupped my breasts in his hands and kneaded my fleshy mounds, coating his hands in my milk, as his tongue danced along my lower lips. He slipped his tongue up inside my sodden pussy and I bucked against his mouth, desperate to be filled by something bigger.

I climbed down from my perch and settled myself in between his knees. With a devilish smile, I pulled down his zipper and freed his cock. I grasped his thick, meaty member in my hand and started tugging it gently. His hot cock lurched in my trembling hand. His rod became rigid in my palm, growing wider and longer until it was at its full mouthwatering length.
I had to know what it tasted like...

I opened my mouth as wide as I could and slid the head of Michael’s throbbing cock between my lips. I sucked at him hungrily and slid my tongue along the smooth skin of his massive member, coating his dick with my saliva.