AUNT NANCY
V1/Ch26
SUCK ME
"Hello!", we heard Uncle Rich say.
We kept quiet.
"Anyone home?!"
The sound of my uncle's voice waylaid the tumbling, threatening, awesome boulder that I was beginning to sense seconds earlier, which boulder I now know would have then been my first climax. But it was not to be. Not yet. Just as soon as this unknowable frightening force had first appeared and then threatened to explode me into smithereens, the huge tumbling threatening boulder had just as quickly disappeared. Gone. Courtesy of my uncle's sudden arrival into the home environs.
I was almost grateful. I feared my aunt would have to take me to the hospital, if the monstrous thing inside - like a huge Amtrak churning down the tracks, had been allowed to continue, if it didn't kill me first. It was so big and so powerful, I had no idea what it would do to me. On the one hand, it felt incredibly attractive and invincible and intoxicating; but on the other, I was afraid it would be my ruin, ending me in a way I'd never be the same. I resolved that sometime when all was settled down, I'd speak to my aunt about it.
Meanwhile, with Uncle Richard having apparently just walked into the house, she acted fast.
"We're up here honey!" she yelled back. In the following seconds, she deftly rolled me back to her right side, and, reaching to her left, her hefty breasts wobbling that direction with her, she found a blanket below the bed, spread it and threw it over her chest, and me, covering my head completely. She'd not had time to pull her top back down over her big swelled naked woman tits that she'd just been suckling her 18 year old nephew to. With my head nestled into her right side, I'd quickly found the outstretched nipple of her big right tit, the massive chunk of womanflesh spilling over the side of her chest, and in the darkness under the blanket, I resumed sucking it. The offending nipple was still big and raw and moist and fully encapsulated within my mouth, with my tongue cascading it and my lips puckered on it, when I heard my uncle's voice loud and clear, and apparently, in the bedroom. I stopped sucking.
"Hey," he said to my Aunt Nancy.
"Hi sweetheart! How was your day?"
"Oh not bad, you know, the usual. What's up?"
"Oh, Dansels and I are just resting, waiting for you to come home. Were you able to get Chinese?"
"Yeah, it's on the table....should I, um, set it up, outside? You guys ready to eat?"
"Oh, definitely; we're famished. That would be so wonderful honey. You want some help from our young man here?"
"Of course, though, he looks fast asleep. You under there Dansels?"
I kept quiet and still, her big warm ebullient nipple still inside my mouth.
"He's apparently out, honey... why don't you get started, and I'll see what I can do to rouse him."
"Great." And he was off.
She waited a few moments, till my uncle was gone, and then she raised the blanket.
"Well don't you look comfy," she said. She peered down into and under the blanket, seeing my little face sucking the nipple of her big fat right tit.
I disengaged, and looked up at her bright shining face. She removed the blanket from both of us, threw it to the other side of the bed, and deftly folded the hem of her shirt back over her starkly pale breasts topped by large swelled reddened areolae.
For a second the two of us just stared at her, at her chest, in a moment of silence, and mutual awe, where her tits caused big oblong mounds to form under the clingy top.
Finally, she broke it up. "How about you go and help, Uncle Rich," she said.
"Sure," I said, and I was off.
* * *
At dinner, out on the pool deck, it was like old times - just me, Aunt Nancy, and Uncle Rich. It all began as supremely serene and relaxing even though my aunt's top, for the evening, was one I was having difficulty not staring at and noticing. She'd changed into a simple off-white button down, with a slight greyish tint, and it was tapered. The buttons were on the left side, instead of the right, as they were with my uncle's shirts. And the shoulders were much smaller, fitting her well there, as well as around the waist. But the middle of the shirt, although stressed somewhat, due to her large breasts, was accommodating to the point where, at least, the buttons were not being threatened with imminent collapse.
She did, noticeably, fill out that part of the shirt quite hugely, but in a place much lower towards her waist than when she wore a bra. Perhaps because Gordon wasn't around, to make immature comments, or because she felt quite relaxed with only Uncle Rich and I in her company, or because, for much of the prior hour I'd boy-handled and sucked on her big tits in quite an aggressive and ferocious way - for whatever reason - she'd quite apparently gone braless for our evening dinner out on the pool deck.
She also wore shorts of roughly the same color, the legs of which were snug, and of the same linen type material, which stretched almost to her knees. She rounded off her outfit with simple one inch heel sandals.
The talk was basic - How was your day, what did you have for lunch, how did the meeting go, etc. My uncle reminded me I was to go to Emjay's the following afternoon to attend, with Gordon, the afternoon men's class he taught on karate and judo. I was much looking forward to that!
My aunt now and then busied herself with serving, and in the process of getting up, and going over to the food table, and coming back and sitting back down again, her bosomage seemed to jiggle with a heaviness and finality to them which was quite more aggravated than usual. Was it because the shirt she wore was tailored so well so as to form to and confine and cling to her particular shape? It was the first such kind of shirt I'd seen her wear. And then I thought it might've been because her breasts were busy in the process of filling up with milk. And so, they were simply heavier, and larger, almost with each passing day.
It occurred to me that for many weeks she'd stopped wearing any button downs at all. So those early button down shirts must have been hers, originally, as in, shirts for women to wear, and that she probably had to stop wearing them, when her chest grew too big for them. Consequently thereafter, when she wanted to wear a button down, casually, she'd just don one of my uncle's, to wear around the house. But such shirts would have been too large in the shoulders, and too small around the bust. Nor could they show off her diminutive waist. To boot, as her tits grew larger, there'd developed gaping holes between the buttons, through which observers were treated a view of either the bra she had on, or if sans bra, then, her thick white pouty milky naked titflesh.
I remembered on some occasions when she wore those Uncle Rich shirts, that when she'd come down to tuck me in, she hadn't bothered to button the shirt at all, but instead, would be clasping it together with her fingertips, in an attempt to discreetly cover her bustage, but, when she'd leaned forward to adjust the pillows behind my head, the lapels would fly apart, suddenly revealing to me her full, growing, naked, large heavy thick breastage.
A swelled nipple would soon loom above and near my face and then would quickly end up in my mouth, whereuponst she'd linger, and would thereby, suckle me. To feeling somewhat of a stranger in my aunt's house at first, to her soon thereafter suckling me with her growing big tits some weeks later, her behavior in this regard certainly made me feel more secure and more a part of her family. Still, even so, in those early weeks, she was dry then, but the act I supposed, done again and again, worked to ultimately trigger the female lactation response, causing her breasts to further enlargen, and eventually, fill up with milk, where the release thereof was found in my young waiting mouth.
That particular day I speak of here, when we napped on her king sized bed, I'd thought I'd drunk all her milk from her tits, while Uncle Rich was out picking up chinese food, but sometime after we began munching the delicious chinese takeout down out there on the patio deck, in the dimming twilight of the evening, a small darkened spot the size of a dime appeared at the apex of her right breast where it pushed most insistently into the thin cotton linen shirt.
My uncle, dabbing his mouth with one of the cloth napkins we'd brought out, saw the spot, and said to my aunt, "Honey, looks like some of the chow mein got you there...," while he looked there, to indicate where, for her.
"Oh my," my aunt said, looking down at the spot, "Clumsy me," she said, with a smile. She dabbed her cloth napkin in her gin and tonic drink, and then dabbed the wet napkin over the wet spot, only making the spot bigger, and wetter.
Meanwhile, we went on eating and discussing everything and anything, as if nothing in the world were the matter at all, even though, I knew, the spot wasn't caused by chow mein, or chop suey, or fried rice, but was caused by milk seeping out of my aunt's big right nipple, from my aunt's big right tit, because she was lactating, and the reason she was lactating, was because for many weeks now she'd been suckling her nephew who for the past several years had come to live with her and her husband.
Trouble often begets more trouble, especially after a cover-up, and in minutes, a similar spot had developed on my aunt's linen shirt, again, only this one was right at the apex of where my aunt's left big tit resided. The spot grew bigger and bigger, and my uncle stared at it funnily, strangely, in fact, as if parts of his brain were busy calculating and wondering, even though he appeared reluctant for those thoughts to be occurring and preferred to ignore them...but anyway, this time he didn't say anything at all. He just stared. My aunt finally looked down to where both my uncle and I were staring, and she said "Oh for heaven's sake," and she repeated the drill with the wetted napkin and the spot only grew bigger and rounder, just like the other spot.
Linen is generally not a thick material, and neither was the sort my aunt's shirt employed. It was rather paltry, and tight and snug on her. It totally encapsulated her unbra'ed tits' unusually large shape and breastular fulsomeness. The weight of her big tits caused them to engage in a diagonal down pointing direction, at about a 45 from the horizontal, while each veered to the side about 30 degrees from straight ahead.
At first, what I found most jaw dropping at times, during our dinner outside, as I tried to feign disinterest in her big tits, though probably failed, was how the sides of her breasts, as enveloped tightly by the close-fitting linen, had become so full and round and convexular. Now and then my uncle would see me staring, at which point in time I'd quickly look away, to the yard, the trees, the house, to anything but her big fulsome tits.
The wet damp circles only grew wetter, and larger. Pretty soon, each eclipsed the outer perimeter of her multi-inch diametered areolae. Although it was near dark, the tiki lamps provided enough light, to where it became obvious, due to the now translucent nature of the linen fabric when wet, that my aunt's big nipple'd areolae were now in plain view. There was simply the pale penumbra of thick big tit woman flesh which surrounded them, and the large red slightly swollen slightly conicular dome of her big areolae.
My eyes must have grown large and huge. My uncle broke me out of reverie..."Son, why not take a few of the dishes in... ." He'd taken to calling me son now and then, which I thought was fine. I did as advised, and when I returned my aunt had a dark windbreaker on, which she must have retrieved from going in and out of the house through the exterior wooden stairs to her bedroom. I remembered briefly the night she stood near the top of those stairs, facing the moon, her growing pointed tits pulled to it somehow, and illuminated by it, seeking some lunar power perhaps.
I don't recall them ever talking about that night - what had happened as to her nipples leaking milk into her blouse while we dined poolside. I presume my aunt must have said something like, that it was due to some temporary female problem, a temporary discharge of something, of sorts, nothing to worry about. And after that night, I found, she'd begun to wear absorbent pads, for use by lactating mothers - dry on the outside, absorbent on the inside, to guard against such accidents for lack of better word, in the future.
Later that evening, after we'd brought everything inside and Aunt Nancy and I had rinsed the dishes at the sink in the kitchen and put them in the dishwasher, she still still wearing the windbreaker, even inside, all zipped up to hide her breastworks, while Uncle Rich relaxed in the den overlooking the pool area, reading the paper, all was quiet. Tensely quiet.
I sensed there were two elephants in the room. One was that she'd violated the prohibition of wearing clothing which readily revealed the full ebullient nature of her gradually enlargening breastial accumulations, by wearing that custom tailored button down blouse, such that it could cling to her relatively small waist while yet revealing what was likely a total bustial circumference somewhere well into the 40's.
The other elephant was that she was apparently, lactating. Yes, she had tried to, from the snippets of conversation I'd overheard, explain it briefly to Uncle Rich as an uncommon but not entirely unheard of "normal women's problem," but I somehow sensed from his demeanor the rest of that evening that he wasn't entirely convinced it was normal. Moreover, I believe it was he who'd made my Aunt don the windbreaker, which she even wore, in the house, while I was helping her rinse dishes! I'm pretty sure she'd've never done that unless he'd specifically required it of her (to "protect the kid" even though I was already 18). Just what was he protecting me from? You, the reader, and I know, that train had long left the station.
Later that evening as I got into bed in my room in the basement, I wondered if she'd stop in. Some nights she did, most nights she didn't. Now that I was 18, things were a little different. I was older and used to living there, and didn't need the coddling and care I'd first had when I was newly arrived into the household.
I still longed to suckle my aunt's breasts though and I believe she just as much longed to succulate me. It seemed of late though, that we'd done it frequently enough, that it had, unbelievably, induced lactation. I felt certain my uncle would catch on, sooner or later. A woman who's not pregnant just doesn't suddenly begin lactating, unless otherwise stimulated by someone (like me!) frequently ravishing her tits. And since it was apparently not him, given what my aunt had mentioned from time to time his more or less, disinterest, and in her opinion, carefully hidden repugnance, over her extraordinary breast development the past few years, he must sooner or later, wonder Who? In any event, I still doubted he'd ever conclude it was her nephew.
All in all, these were matters well beyond what any 18 year old should have to deal with. So I dismissed them, and tried to keep it simple: My aunt had big tits, I liked to suck them, and she liked to suckle me. We did it, when we could, opportunities permitting, but not to the point of needy obsession. Still, it was utter rhapsody when we did.
And as my eyes were half open half closed over these pendulous matters, suddenly there she was, in the dark, standing in the doorway to my bedroom. She wore a light pink, almost white, cotton night shift, terribly snug, conforming quite magnificently but not ridiculously, to every curve of her body, which shift extended down to mid thigh, like a one piece dress, revealing quite splendidly her fabulously fulsome breast expansion into it, low and unusually large, her nipples quite conspicuously pushing into the soft fabric slightly downwards and 45 degrees to the sides, their punctal into the shift apparently saturated and moist, forming 5" diameter circles of dampness.
"Your poor uncle," she said, closing the door partially, leaving it a few inches open, then moving to sit on the side of the bed, to my right, she turned halfways to face me towards her right. "He's fast asleep. He's had such a long day," both hands rising up, into her hair, the fingers moving swiftly through all the strands, frilling it out, splaying it out amongst her shoulders and her upper arms. Why women do that I don't know. The undertone though, if there be one at all, was of dominance. Dominance in that he was worn out and asleep, while she was sitting on the side of the bed containing her 18 year old nephew, with his erectifying appendage, she in a thin cotton shift which easily and magnificently gave away her protuberant, virile, breastage and nipplehood, where in minutes perhaps, she'd soon be supplicating him with her rarely surpassed sexuality.
Afterwards, with time to think about it, I wondered, had she worn him out, with her lovemaking?
Meanwhile, I nodded in agreement to her description of my uncle, while glancing at the outline of her right breast into her shift - for it was the one closest to me - the big thing apparently extending out and down to and a bit beyond the top planform of her thigh on the big right tit's left side, and the side of her waist on it's right side..
"Darling, the day passed by so quickly. I've just no idea where the time went!" While she spoke, not looking directly at me, she moved with each hand the respective part of her shift which covered her shoulders, off of them, deftly freeing the cotton thing from her arms as well, and then pulling both sides of the shift down, as far as to where her natural breast swell began in earnest, yet showing a few inches of warm pluming inviting cleavage.
"I'm still leaking sweetheart," she whispered secretly, reaching a hand in and pulling one and the other, her thick full heavy breasts out of their respective compartments within the stretchy cotton shift, out into the open, where they quivered as if expecting a standing ovation, which they well deserved. Each stuck out like large footballs, her bloated right one now easily hanging down past her waist. I swear the woman seemed to grow by the week.
Her encircled nippleage moreover looked so flagrantly large, swelled, and inflamed, it caught me off guard. "Honey, I've felt such distress all evening!" she again whispered, no doubt judging by my alertful countenance my unbalanced reaction to her womanly supremacy.
"Yes, um, I can see, that you are, Aunt Nancy" I tried to say, respectfully, as I was in awe, still staring, there, feeling my groin rise, within my pj's, under the covers. Observing a well endowed woman slowly leak tittular moisture into her top is one thing; then later, seeing her aroused tittular nippleage exposed in its swelled flagrant nature, is another.
She then stood, and turning to face the door directly, took between her fingertips the bottom hem of her nightwear, about mid-thigh, and shimmied the fabric upwards, thereby exposing to me her lovely voluptuous curving ass, and to the door, her shaved cuntilar toolshed. It was almost as if she was daring Uncle Rich to walk in unexpectedly and see her in this state, where she now stood, exposing what many would consider to be the central manufacturing capability of a woman's sexual prowess.
And so it was that she now had the shift bunched up around her waist, both from below, and above. She'd relegated what was a full body dress to merely a kind of belt in mere seconds. She gingerly put her left knee onto the bed and then brought her right one right across me, straddling my waist, a knee on each side of my chest, while she then gently seated her bared buttocks pretty much right above my groin, and thus, on it. I've no doubt she could feel my swell there.
A cute slit of woman pridly bulge rose out of the confluence of thigh and flat lower belly. How could I not stare directly, with intent and focus and wonder. I was only 18. Looming directly above of course were her unfathomable bigtits, hanging pregnantly downward, swelled with womanly menace and authority. Do beautiful women rule the world? I'd've answered in those moments, "Of course they do silly. Don't ask dumb questions."
"Oh darling, you've become a man way too fast," she said. What did she mean? Was she referring to my groin's swell pressing into her female vital area? Or just my looks and demeanor in general?
Then, looking down, and side to side at each of her unusually swelled breastial meatlockers, she said in a whispered tone, "Sweetheart, I so need relief. Can you help me? You're the only one I can turn to..."
Looking up into her blue eyes, I slowly nodded yes, for I was entrancified and hard as a freaking rock. A lithe, toned, beautiful 30ish woman with exposed jumbo tits, who happened to be my aunt, was sitting bare-butt on top of the covers on my under-the-covers hardened groin, and she was asking me if I'd suck on her big things. Like, at age 18, or any age, I was going to say no. So kind of her to ask first, though.
I kept nodding, slowly, staring, gawking, transfixed by the sight of her powerfully displayed areola. I then looked to the space at the doorway, where the door was still open a few inches.
"He's fast asleep, darling, the poor thing. I was so hoping he'd help alleviate my condition, but as you can see he lacks the wherewithal. What's a woman to do, Daniel?"
"I don't know Aunt Nancy," I said quietly, not even looking at her, but instead staring directly at her heaving tits.
Raising her arms well above her head again in another one of those unexplainable female gestures, except for the fact that such movement does have the effect of jutting outwards her overly fulsome titteroids, she asked, "Do you have the wherewithal sweetheart?"
Again, I nodded, staring at her jutting, amplified, lewd, seriously overdeveloped nipples.
"I've been so hoping you did, honey... all day I have."
And with that she scooted up a few inches, and then leaning forward some, allowed her offending right nipple, exuding from the tip of her heaving juggernaut, to graze my mouth as I opened my lips and to let it slide wholly inside.
After a bit I could hear her cooing a bit, moaning sounds of extreme pleasure and relief, as I sucked, and licked, and sucked, her breastial elixir into me. With her hands placed each side of my shoulders, her forearms nudging up against my t-shirt covered deltoids, she rocked her breastial expanse, up and down, up and down, ever so subtly, her nippular shafts sliding in and out aplace the sensitive skin of my lips. In some weird sense, it flashed upon my mind, with my aunt in the dominant position, straddling with her womanhood the abdominal and cockular center of my being, sliding her extravagantly developed virile and erect nipplehood in and out of my eager mouth, that she was titfucking me.
V1/Ch26
SUCK ME
"Hello!", we heard Uncle Rich say.
We kept quiet.
"Anyone home?!"
The sound of my uncle's voice waylaid the tumbling, threatening, awesome boulder that I was beginning to sense seconds earlier, which boulder I now know would have then been my first climax. But it was not to be. Not yet. Just as soon as this unknowable frightening force had first appeared and then threatened to explode me into smithereens, the huge tumbling threatening boulder had just as quickly disappeared. Gone. Courtesy of my uncle's sudden arrival into the home environs.
I was almost grateful. I feared my aunt would have to take me to the hospital, if the monstrous thing inside - like a huge Amtrak churning down the tracks, had been allowed to continue, if it didn't kill me first. It was so big and so powerful, I had no idea what it would do to me. On the one hand, it felt incredibly attractive and invincible and intoxicating; but on the other, I was afraid it would be my ruin, ending me in a way I'd never be the same. I resolved that sometime when all was settled down, I'd speak to my aunt about it.
Meanwhile, with Uncle Richard having apparently just walked into the house, she acted fast.
"We're up here honey!" she yelled back. In the following seconds, she deftly rolled me back to her right side, and, reaching to her left, her hefty breasts wobbling that direction with her, she found a blanket below the bed, spread it and threw it over her chest, and me, covering my head completely. She'd not had time to pull her top back down over her big swelled naked woman tits that she'd just been suckling her 18 year old nephew to. With my head nestled into her right side, I'd quickly found the outstretched nipple of her big right tit, the massive chunk of womanflesh spilling over the side of her chest, and in the darkness under the blanket, I resumed sucking it. The offending nipple was still big and raw and moist and fully encapsulated within my mouth, with my tongue cascading it and my lips puckered on it, when I heard my uncle's voice loud and clear, and apparently, in the bedroom. I stopped sucking.
"Hey," he said to my Aunt Nancy.
"Hi sweetheart! How was your day?"
"Oh not bad, you know, the usual. What's up?"
"Oh, Dansels and I are just resting, waiting for you to come home. Were you able to get Chinese?"
"Yeah, it's on the table....should I, um, set it up, outside? You guys ready to eat?"
"Oh, definitely; we're famished. That would be so wonderful honey. You want some help from our young man here?"
"Of course, though, he looks fast asleep. You under there Dansels?"
I kept quiet and still, her big warm ebullient nipple still inside my mouth.
"He's apparently out, honey... why don't you get started, and I'll see what I can do to rouse him."
"Great." And he was off.
She waited a few moments, till my uncle was gone, and then she raised the blanket.
"Well don't you look comfy," she said. She peered down into and under the blanket, seeing my little face sucking the nipple of her big fat right tit.
I disengaged, and looked up at her bright shining face. She removed the blanket from both of us, threw it to the other side of the bed, and deftly folded the hem of her shirt back over her starkly pale breasts topped by large swelled reddened areolae.
For a second the two of us just stared at her, at her chest, in a moment of silence, and mutual awe, where her tits caused big oblong mounds to form under the clingy top.
Finally, she broke it up. "How about you go and help, Uncle Rich," she said.
"Sure," I said, and I was off.
* * *
At dinner, out on the pool deck, it was like old times - just me, Aunt Nancy, and Uncle Rich. It all began as supremely serene and relaxing even though my aunt's top, for the evening, was one I was having difficulty not staring at and noticing. She'd changed into a simple off-white button down, with a slight greyish tint, and it was tapered. The buttons were on the left side, instead of the right, as they were with my uncle's shirts. And the shoulders were much smaller, fitting her well there, as well as around the waist. But the middle of the shirt, although stressed somewhat, due to her large breasts, was accommodating to the point where, at least, the buttons were not being threatened with imminent collapse.
She did, noticeably, fill out that part of the shirt quite hugely, but in a place much lower towards her waist than when she wore a bra. Perhaps because Gordon wasn't around, to make immature comments, or because she felt quite relaxed with only Uncle Rich and I in her company, or because, for much of the prior hour I'd boy-handled and sucked on her big tits in quite an aggressive and ferocious way - for whatever reason - she'd quite apparently gone braless for our evening dinner out on the pool deck.
She also wore shorts of roughly the same color, the legs of which were snug, and of the same linen type material, which stretched almost to her knees. She rounded off her outfit with simple one inch heel sandals.
The talk was basic - How was your day, what did you have for lunch, how did the meeting go, etc. My uncle reminded me I was to go to Emjay's the following afternoon to attend, with Gordon, the afternoon men's class he taught on karate and judo. I was much looking forward to that!
My aunt now and then busied herself with serving, and in the process of getting up, and going over to the food table, and coming back and sitting back down again, her bosomage seemed to jiggle with a heaviness and finality to them which was quite more aggravated than usual. Was it because the shirt she wore was tailored so well so as to form to and confine and cling to her particular shape? It was the first such kind of shirt I'd seen her wear. And then I thought it might've been because her breasts were busy in the process of filling up with milk. And so, they were simply heavier, and larger, almost with each passing day.
It occurred to me that for many weeks she'd stopped wearing any button downs at all. So those early button down shirts must have been hers, originally, as in, shirts for women to wear, and that she probably had to stop wearing them, when her chest grew too big for them. Consequently thereafter, when she wanted to wear a button down, casually, she'd just don one of my uncle's, to wear around the house. But such shirts would have been too large in the shoulders, and too small around the bust. Nor could they show off her diminutive waist. To boot, as her tits grew larger, there'd developed gaping holes between the buttons, through which observers were treated a view of either the bra she had on, or if sans bra, then, her thick white pouty milky naked titflesh.
I remembered on some occasions when she wore those Uncle Rich shirts, that when she'd come down to tuck me in, she hadn't bothered to button the shirt at all, but instead, would be clasping it together with her fingertips, in an attempt to discreetly cover her bustage, but, when she'd leaned forward to adjust the pillows behind my head, the lapels would fly apart, suddenly revealing to me her full, growing, naked, large heavy thick breastage.
A swelled nipple would soon loom above and near my face and then would quickly end up in my mouth, whereuponst she'd linger, and would thereby, suckle me. To feeling somewhat of a stranger in my aunt's house at first, to her soon thereafter suckling me with her growing big tits some weeks later, her behavior in this regard certainly made me feel more secure and more a part of her family. Still, even so, in those early weeks, she was dry then, but the act I supposed, done again and again, worked to ultimately trigger the female lactation response, causing her breasts to further enlargen, and eventually, fill up with milk, where the release thereof was found in my young waiting mouth.
That particular day I speak of here, when we napped on her king sized bed, I'd thought I'd drunk all her milk from her tits, while Uncle Rich was out picking up chinese food, but sometime after we began munching the delicious chinese takeout down out there on the patio deck, in the dimming twilight of the evening, a small darkened spot the size of a dime appeared at the apex of her right breast where it pushed most insistently into the thin cotton linen shirt.
My uncle, dabbing his mouth with one of the cloth napkins we'd brought out, saw the spot, and said to my aunt, "Honey, looks like some of the chow mein got you there...," while he looked there, to indicate where, for her.
"Oh my," my aunt said, looking down at the spot, "Clumsy me," she said, with a smile. She dabbed her cloth napkin in her gin and tonic drink, and then dabbed the wet napkin over the wet spot, only making the spot bigger, and wetter.
Meanwhile, we went on eating and discussing everything and anything, as if nothing in the world were the matter at all, even though, I knew, the spot wasn't caused by chow mein, or chop suey, or fried rice, but was caused by milk seeping out of my aunt's big right nipple, from my aunt's big right tit, because she was lactating, and the reason she was lactating, was because for many weeks now she'd been suckling her nephew who for the past several years had come to live with her and her husband.
Trouble often begets more trouble, especially after a cover-up, and in minutes, a similar spot had developed on my aunt's linen shirt, again, only this one was right at the apex of where my aunt's left big tit resided. The spot grew bigger and bigger, and my uncle stared at it funnily, strangely, in fact, as if parts of his brain were busy calculating and wondering, even though he appeared reluctant for those thoughts to be occurring and preferred to ignore them...but anyway, this time he didn't say anything at all. He just stared. My aunt finally looked down to where both my uncle and I were staring, and she said "Oh for heaven's sake," and she repeated the drill with the wetted napkin and the spot only grew bigger and rounder, just like the other spot.
Linen is generally not a thick material, and neither was the sort my aunt's shirt employed. It was rather paltry, and tight and snug on her. It totally encapsulated her unbra'ed tits' unusually large shape and breastular fulsomeness. The weight of her big tits caused them to engage in a diagonal down pointing direction, at about a 45 from the horizontal, while each veered to the side about 30 degrees from straight ahead.
At first, what I found most jaw dropping at times, during our dinner outside, as I tried to feign disinterest in her big tits, though probably failed, was how the sides of her breasts, as enveloped tightly by the close-fitting linen, had become so full and round and convexular. Now and then my uncle would see me staring, at which point in time I'd quickly look away, to the yard, the trees, the house, to anything but her big fulsome tits.
The wet damp circles only grew wetter, and larger. Pretty soon, each eclipsed the outer perimeter of her multi-inch diametered areolae. Although it was near dark, the tiki lamps provided enough light, to where it became obvious, due to the now translucent nature of the linen fabric when wet, that my aunt's big nipple'd areolae were now in plain view. There was simply the pale penumbra of thick big tit woman flesh which surrounded them, and the large red slightly swollen slightly conicular dome of her big areolae.
My eyes must have grown large and huge. My uncle broke me out of reverie..."Son, why not take a few of the dishes in... ." He'd taken to calling me son now and then, which I thought was fine. I did as advised, and when I returned my aunt had a dark windbreaker on, which she must have retrieved from going in and out of the house through the exterior wooden stairs to her bedroom. I remembered briefly the night she stood near the top of those stairs, facing the moon, her growing pointed tits pulled to it somehow, and illuminated by it, seeking some lunar power perhaps.
I don't recall them ever talking about that night - what had happened as to her nipples leaking milk into her blouse while we dined poolside. I presume my aunt must have said something like, that it was due to some temporary female problem, a temporary discharge of something, of sorts, nothing to worry about. And after that night, I found, she'd begun to wear absorbent pads, for use by lactating mothers - dry on the outside, absorbent on the inside, to guard against such accidents for lack of better word, in the future.
Later that evening, after we'd brought everything inside and Aunt Nancy and I had rinsed the dishes at the sink in the kitchen and put them in the dishwasher, she still still wearing the windbreaker, even inside, all zipped up to hide her breastworks, while Uncle Rich relaxed in the den overlooking the pool area, reading the paper, all was quiet. Tensely quiet.
I sensed there were two elephants in the room. One was that she'd violated the prohibition of wearing clothing which readily revealed the full ebullient nature of her gradually enlargening breastial accumulations, by wearing that custom tailored button down blouse, such that it could cling to her relatively small waist while yet revealing what was likely a total bustial circumference somewhere well into the 40's.
The other elephant was that she was apparently, lactating. Yes, she had tried to, from the snippets of conversation I'd overheard, explain it briefly to Uncle Rich as an uncommon but not entirely unheard of "normal women's problem," but I somehow sensed from his demeanor the rest of that evening that he wasn't entirely convinced it was normal. Moreover, I believe it was he who'd made my Aunt don the windbreaker, which she even wore, in the house, while I was helping her rinse dishes! I'm pretty sure she'd've never done that unless he'd specifically required it of her (to "protect the kid" even though I was already 18). Just what was he protecting me from? You, the reader, and I know, that train had long left the station.
Later that evening as I got into bed in my room in the basement, I wondered if she'd stop in. Some nights she did, most nights she didn't. Now that I was 18, things were a little different. I was older and used to living there, and didn't need the coddling and care I'd first had when I was newly arrived into the household.
I still longed to suckle my aunt's breasts though and I believe she just as much longed to succulate me. It seemed of late though, that we'd done it frequently enough, that it had, unbelievably, induced lactation. I felt certain my uncle would catch on, sooner or later. A woman who's not pregnant just doesn't suddenly begin lactating, unless otherwise stimulated by someone (like me!) frequently ravishing her tits. And since it was apparently not him, given what my aunt had mentioned from time to time his more or less, disinterest, and in her opinion, carefully hidden repugnance, over her extraordinary breast development the past few years, he must sooner or later, wonder Who? In any event, I still doubted he'd ever conclude it was her nephew.
All in all, these were matters well beyond what any 18 year old should have to deal with. So I dismissed them, and tried to keep it simple: My aunt had big tits, I liked to suck them, and she liked to suckle me. We did it, when we could, opportunities permitting, but not to the point of needy obsession. Still, it was utter rhapsody when we did.
And as my eyes were half open half closed over these pendulous matters, suddenly there she was, in the dark, standing in the doorway to my bedroom. She wore a light pink, almost white, cotton night shift, terribly snug, conforming quite magnificently but not ridiculously, to every curve of her body, which shift extended down to mid thigh, like a one piece dress, revealing quite splendidly her fabulously fulsome breast expansion into it, low and unusually large, her nipples quite conspicuously pushing into the soft fabric slightly downwards and 45 degrees to the sides, their punctal into the shift apparently saturated and moist, forming 5" diameter circles of dampness.
"Your poor uncle," she said, closing the door partially, leaving it a few inches open, then moving to sit on the side of the bed, to my right, she turned halfways to face me towards her right. "He's fast asleep. He's had such a long day," both hands rising up, into her hair, the fingers moving swiftly through all the strands, frilling it out, splaying it out amongst her shoulders and her upper arms. Why women do that I don't know. The undertone though, if there be one at all, was of dominance. Dominance in that he was worn out and asleep, while she was sitting on the side of the bed containing her 18 year old nephew, with his erectifying appendage, she in a thin cotton shift which easily and magnificently gave away her protuberant, virile, breastage and nipplehood, where in minutes perhaps, she'd soon be supplicating him with her rarely surpassed sexuality.
Afterwards, with time to think about it, I wondered, had she worn him out, with her lovemaking?
Meanwhile, I nodded in agreement to her description of my uncle, while glancing at the outline of her right breast into her shift - for it was the one closest to me - the big thing apparently extending out and down to and a bit beyond the top planform of her thigh on the big right tit's left side, and the side of her waist on it's right side..
"Darling, the day passed by so quickly. I've just no idea where the time went!" While she spoke, not looking directly at me, she moved with each hand the respective part of her shift which covered her shoulders, off of them, deftly freeing the cotton thing from her arms as well, and then pulling both sides of the shift down, as far as to where her natural breast swell began in earnest, yet showing a few inches of warm pluming inviting cleavage.
"I'm still leaking sweetheart," she whispered secretly, reaching a hand in and pulling one and the other, her thick full heavy breasts out of their respective compartments within the stretchy cotton shift, out into the open, where they quivered as if expecting a standing ovation, which they well deserved. Each stuck out like large footballs, her bloated right one now easily hanging down past her waist. I swear the woman seemed to grow by the week.
Her encircled nippleage moreover looked so flagrantly large, swelled, and inflamed, it caught me off guard. "Honey, I've felt such distress all evening!" she again whispered, no doubt judging by my alertful countenance my unbalanced reaction to her womanly supremacy.
"Yes, um, I can see, that you are, Aunt Nancy" I tried to say, respectfully, as I was in awe, still staring, there, feeling my groin rise, within my pj's, under the covers. Observing a well endowed woman slowly leak tittular moisture into her top is one thing; then later, seeing her aroused tittular nippleage exposed in its swelled flagrant nature, is another.
She then stood, and turning to face the door directly, took between her fingertips the bottom hem of her nightwear, about mid-thigh, and shimmied the fabric upwards, thereby exposing to me her lovely voluptuous curving ass, and to the door, her shaved cuntilar toolshed. It was almost as if she was daring Uncle Rich to walk in unexpectedly and see her in this state, where she now stood, exposing what many would consider to be the central manufacturing capability of a woman's sexual prowess.
And so it was that she now had the shift bunched up around her waist, both from below, and above. She'd relegated what was a full body dress to merely a kind of belt in mere seconds. She gingerly put her left knee onto the bed and then brought her right one right across me, straddling my waist, a knee on each side of my chest, while she then gently seated her bared buttocks pretty much right above my groin, and thus, on it. I've no doubt she could feel my swell there.
A cute slit of woman pridly bulge rose out of the confluence of thigh and flat lower belly. How could I not stare directly, with intent and focus and wonder. I was only 18. Looming directly above of course were her unfathomable bigtits, hanging pregnantly downward, swelled with womanly menace and authority. Do beautiful women rule the world? I'd've answered in those moments, "Of course they do silly. Don't ask dumb questions."
"Oh darling, you've become a man way too fast," she said. What did she mean? Was she referring to my groin's swell pressing into her female vital area? Or just my looks and demeanor in general?
Then, looking down, and side to side at each of her unusually swelled breastial meatlockers, she said in a whispered tone, "Sweetheart, I so need relief. Can you help me? You're the only one I can turn to..."
Looking up into her blue eyes, I slowly nodded yes, for I was entrancified and hard as a freaking rock. A lithe, toned, beautiful 30ish woman with exposed jumbo tits, who happened to be my aunt, was sitting bare-butt on top of the covers on my under-the-covers hardened groin, and she was asking me if I'd suck on her big things. Like, at age 18, or any age, I was going to say no. So kind of her to ask first, though.
I kept nodding, slowly, staring, gawking, transfixed by the sight of her powerfully displayed areola. I then looked to the space at the doorway, where the door was still open a few inches.
"He's fast asleep, darling, the poor thing. I was so hoping he'd help alleviate my condition, but as you can see he lacks the wherewithal. What's a woman to do, Daniel?"
"I don't know Aunt Nancy," I said quietly, not even looking at her, but instead staring directly at her heaving tits.
Raising her arms well above her head again in another one of those unexplainable female gestures, except for the fact that such movement does have the effect of jutting outwards her overly fulsome titteroids, she asked, "Do you have the wherewithal sweetheart?"
Again, I nodded, staring at her jutting, amplified, lewd, seriously overdeveloped nipples.
"I've been so hoping you did, honey... all day I have."
And with that she scooted up a few inches, and then leaning forward some, allowed her offending right nipple, exuding from the tip of her heaving juggernaut, to graze my mouth as I opened my lips and to let it slide wholly inside.
After a bit I could hear her cooing a bit, moaning sounds of extreme pleasure and relief, as I sucked, and licked, and sucked, her breastial elixir into me. With her hands placed each side of my shoulders, her forearms nudging up against my t-shirt covered deltoids, she rocked her breastial expanse, up and down, up and down, ever so subtly, her nippular shafts sliding in and out aplace the sensitive skin of my lips. In some weird sense, it flashed upon my mind, with my aunt in the dominant position, straddling with her womanhood the abdominal and cockular center of my being, sliding her extravagantly developed virile and erect nipplehood in and out of my eager mouth, that she was titfucking me.
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