Lap Bitch

My master sits and pats his lap. I know it means, “Come.”

Like an obedient bitch, I pause only long enough to smile with my whole body and take in the thought of what we are about to do. Then I climb on his lap, straddling, with a knee on each side of his hips, and my breast level with his face.

Immediately my breasts perk up, and my nipples come alive. He will admire them for a while before tenderly teasing them. I am not sure who is getting the most enjoyment. We both groan.

When neither of us can stand the teasing any longer, he grabs a breast. All the tenderness of his approach has given way to his lust. He takes my nipple into his mouth and draws it tight with the first few sucks to the back of his tongue. The vacuum is tight ,and it pleasantly hurts a little. Then from behind my nipple I feel the “pins and needles” feeling
of my milk letting down. The vacuum disappears. He responds with a moan at the
taste of my milk. At this point I usually lose my composure.

I melt. My hands go to his head. Without losing the conscious feeling of his mashing grip of my breast and the rhythm of his lips on my nipple, my fingers become tentacles. The tips of them take in the cut ends of his short hair, and that contrasts with the overall silky and velvety coating it gives his scalp.  I bend my head over and pull a short snip of hair through my teeth. I take in the smell of his hair as I taste it.

From there my fingers travel down his neck and over his bare shoulders. I feel every crease in his neck, every bump and fine hair across his shoulders and down his arms.

There is a positive charge of energy coming from him through my fingers. Energy is flowing out of my breasts back into him. Then like a light bulb turning on, I become aware of the pulsating between my thighs. Is it originating from him or me? There is heat, hardness, wetness, and all these other sensations drawing my attention.

My thoughts are interrupted for only a minute second as he lets go of one breast and eagerly attaches to the other. My focus returns to my breasts, then my finger tips, and again back below my hips. I begin to grind and gyrate, something searching, until we connect and lock, like a piston in its chamber.

Just when I think I am on sensory overload, he begins to drag his finger nails down my back; slowly, slowly, and again slowly. The firmly applied sharpness of his fingertips sends tingles down my spine, while the heat and hardness below me sends vibrations upward. All the while his lips never leave my nipple.

My finger tips dig into the muscle under his shoulders. My breath changes, my moaning changes, my spine goes stiff and my thighs squeeze his. Then, without any conscious effort, my body does the lap dance that all other lap dances can only mimic.

I scream.

I melt again; like jello my arms fall to my side, and my head rests on his. There is the smell of his hair again. I try to bring my breathing back under control. I become aware of him, still attached to my breast, and his arms wrapped around me.

He lets go of my nipple and smiles.

11/08/2011 Loving It (an pen name I adopted many years ago for erotica)
This was written by me, and may only be used with my permission.

stock photo; no relationship to the post or author

Even with our regular bosoming times, my breast still crave attention between those times. I find myself going bra-less, knowing that the peaks in my top created by my nipples will draw him like a magnet. If we can not fit in an extra bosom time, it will at least result in a squeeze of my breasts or the lifting of my top for a quick taste.

This craving of attention… the longing to be touched even if it has only been an hour or so since I last had his undivided attention… It makes me think of my younger years when I had no real understanding of how a man’s “manhood” craved attention. Yes, I knew it was true, but knowing it and understanding are different. How naive I was to think my rewarding his manhood with attention must require at least some time consuming romantic gestures on his part first.

Now I know better, and I am as “grabby” as he is. “Roman hands and Russian fingers” describe both of us. I grab his perfect round butt cheeks every chance I get. I also rub to coax the genie out of the bottle to fulfill my wishes whenever circumstances allow it. There is no longer a need for drawn out rituals, though we still enjoy those times too.  

After a quarter century of marriage, our bodies still crave each other’s attention. How nice it is to be able to just give in to it. I know this “easiness” is because the emotional intimacy and the security is already established and reconfirmed by the other small acts that we now subconsciously do regularly after years of making them a part of our lives together.

I am as crazy about him, maybe even more so, than I have ever been. He makes me feel like he wants me just as much. It is obvious that we miss each other when we are apart through the day.

We are truly bosom buddies.

We have begun to “re-induce” the flow milk the last couple of weeks. I don’t know what made the change in my husband’s desire, but recently he voiced his desire to bring back the milk. So we are back to bosoming more than morning and night, and trying to get bosoming in 4 to 5 times a day.

Because we never quit completely, the drops turned in to an occasional spray within the matter of a week.  I am also feeling that aching in my breasts and under my arms again. It is a good feeling, because I know it is a sign of progress.  

We have planned a honeymoon of sorts for the first weekend in November. Since it will be our bosom anniversary, I have decided to try pumping this week. My pump came in today. I will let you know how that works out. It is a manual pump, because an electric one is both too noisy and too large to keep secret from our children. It would be an extra nice treat to have milk flow, or at least consistent sprays back by our special weekend. I am planning on a two to three hour schedule, working the pump in between our normal bosoming times.

The intense intimacy and the stark naked vulnerability returned immediately with the re-commitment to set aside more intimate time together. I had not noticed that it had faded some, but now that the intensity is back it is obvious that it had. I am looking forward with excitement to our special weekend without the children.

His Milkmaid

There is something so beautiful about the woman in this painting. I wonder what she ponders as she pours the milk she labored for. The table displays a bounty of food; the colors and textures of the painting arouse a very romantic feeling within me…it pleases my eye.

This woman is robust and feminine all at the same time; she wears the appropriate attire for her position, time period and season.

Who is she? Is she a young girl of 16? A mother? daughter? sister? If she is married, does she nurse her husband? I never would have thought that in my previous life. But now I can’t help but wonder.

What do you picture in your mind’s eye when you think of a milkmaid?

The answer is quite simple. One day while my husband and I were…Uh hum…involved in some very private time, he began to suckle my breasts. Let’s just say that the above described activity “gets me in the mood” very quickly. This time in particular, Hubby lingered there a little longer than usual. He seemed to be in a very dreamy state…we both just soaked up the moment while I cradled his head in my arms; he nearly dozed off suckling. He loving looked up at me and whispered, “I wish that I could drink your milk”. I excitedly asked, “Are you serious”? Hubby replied, “Of course, silly; why not”? For the next several minutes I explained that his idea could become our reality. Having been a LLL leader (eons ago), I assisted many new moms including one woman who would eventually adopt and desired to breastfeed. Certainly this was something that we could do.

My DH was anxious to start right away…our ANR was born. Mind you, neither one of us had ever heard of an ANR or ABF. We simply discovered this new form of intimacy and bonding all on our own. It just happened naturally. We both had a good idea of how often we would need to BF in order to bring milk in and we were committed. Owning our own business allowed us to make time to prioritize our new found joy if you know what I mean! At that time, we nursed every 4 or 5 hours around the clock. At two weeks, we had serious drops and within the 4th week Hubby was getting gulps. Needless to say, we were ecstatic!

By 8 weeks, we had dropped the “wee hour of the morning” feeding…I guess we both finally ran out of gas. Three to four sessions became the norm for a week or so. What happened next is a cautionary tale…so learn from it. I became obsessed with keeping the schedule fearing that my milk would dry up; the schedule became the focus rather than the relationship. Our ANR was taking up a lot of our time and our business needed attention.  For about 5 or 6 days there was no nursing. My husband and I were stressed out, confused and unsure of the next step. Neither Hubby or I had any intention of giving up our ANR, but we had to re-group…find some balance in all of this.

Communication is key!
I learned a lot from my husband those days that we didn’t nurse. We worked hard together and had some very meaningful talks; he is my  BEST FRIEND. You know, we all have expectations in our marriages regarding sex, nursing…fill in the blank. The micromanagement of an ANR (or anything for that matter) can leave couples disillusioned and/or disappointed. Talking about our desires, expectations and the reality of our daily life helped me to put things in proper perspective.

So, how does this story end? Oh, we are just getting started! You’ll have to wait and read my next post! Gottcha! I would never be that cruel. LOL.
Bosom Love has never been better. We have freed ourselves from a strict “schedule” letting things happen naturally. Whether wet or dry nursing, we love the intimacy and closeness that it provides. It has truly become a part of us… a very special part of a glorious relationship that I have with my beloved husband.

I pray our story has encouraged you. If opinions differ between you and your mate regarding ANR talk with them. You don’t have to limit yourselves or tailor your ANR after someone else. There really is no right or wrong way! Share your desires and then listen to them…really listen and be willing to compromise. Bosom love is an incredible blessing and journey…one I hope all of our readers may one day enjoy!

Blessings to all,

Luvmyhub