August 25, 2015 at 3:00 am #438EternalcontentmentParticipant
My wife and I are in our sixties and have been married 40 plus years. Before I met her, and not having had a serious girlfriend, and just like most teenage boys, I thought for sure that the lower half of a woman was interesting but breasts were mesmerizing, hypnotizing, and struck a chord in me from the depths of my being. The first time that I saw my future wife’s breasts was when we were teenagers. It has been a lasting image that has tethered me to her all of these years; something that we reminisce about.
We were searching for a place to be alone for the first time, as I drove us down a narrow lane surrounding a cornfield and stopped at the secluded far end. As we exited the car our eyes met and I felt her nervous excitement rippling into mine as though our gazes were emitting erotic molecules that danced across the distance between our trembling bodies. The grass was green and soft where we sat, the mature cornstalks concealing, and the late afternoon sunshine glowing a soft amber over the cornfield seemed to soothe our nervous jitters. With a soft cooing murmur she stretched and laid on her back, her inviting gaze calling to me. Not being experienced at this sort of thing, I had some difficulty raising her dress and unhooking her bra. Then as I exposed her breasts with an enticing jiggle, the gentle rays of the sun illuminated her moderate pink nipples and my eyes took in their wondrous beauty, their mystery, as they seemed to be begging me to partake. I was smitten by an awakened instinct, a biological imperative, a deep yearning to gaze, fondle . . . and then to suckle. As I gazed an irresistible force from her breasts . . . her round protruding nipples, lassoed me and was rhythmically nudging me closer, and now gazing so closely at the real thing and her sweet female scent entering my nostrils . . . I succumbed to their needy calling and slowly sucked in her left nipple until it filled my mouth, my tongue rhythmically pressing upward and working the unimaginable softness from back to front. Unexpectedly, because being a horny young male I had originally come to this first time encounter for something else, a euphoria came over me that was so overwhelming, a feeling of intense well-being, that it has always summoned me back to nipples.
A few years later we married and had children that were each breastfed for a year. Our focus was on the children’s welfare as our world became harsh and unforgiving. If the thought of sharing in my wife’s bounty of milk ever did cross my mind it was quickly squashed by the severity of our circumstances.
Years went by quickly and our lives became easier and gentler our our children grew up and left home. As we aged we discovered the serenity and comfort in extended foreplay, and though we are healthy and enjoy sex often, her breasts became more and more important and satisfying to me as she loved having me give them the extended attention.
Now the sublime nursing on her breasts and her freely and joyously giving me her milk is no longer solely a part of foreplay but an integral part of every day. Our marriage has risen to a higher level of intimacy as we are calmer, intimately closer, and experiencing a serenity that many older couples seem to be missing. Entwined by the electrifying connection of lips and nipples and meeting of the minds we agree that time seems to expand, the world around us vanishes into blue, and for a while we are the only two people in the universe. At our age the end of the line can be fully visualized and, instead of withering away to an unfulfilled senior existence, we have awakened and found again those very same intoxicating emotions that we experienced as young lovers.
Sexual intercourse is intensely enjoyable, but fleeting . . . Breastfeeding from my wife is eternal contentment.August 26, 2015 at 2:20 am #440EternalcontentmentParticipant
Lady Eternalcontented shares her viewpoint on How I Discovered the Joy of Adult Nursing: We were teenagers wonderfully intoxicated by our love for each other. My future husband had just gotten his drivers license but he was only allowed to take me a few miles away to a country diner. As we drove away from my house, fully intending to go to the diner, he turned and gazed at me and our eyes met: our destination had changed without a word being said. We shared smiles of nervous anticipation, as I noticed his cheeks flushing and his breathing rapid, my heart pounding and butterflies swarming in my stomach. A mile went by in awkward silence and he turned the car into a lane that surrounded a mature cornfield. He stopped the car and we stepped outside on a grassy patch. We looked up and down and all around, hesitating, unsure of what to do next. The sun’s amber rays reflected from feathery clouds and illuminated his strong stature and tender expression. After a long moment he lowered himself on his knees in front of me, raising welcoming hands, his eyes locked on mine, his wanting expression inviting me to follow. I gently slid my hands in his and then sat down. The wonderment of it was overtaking me. I began to relax, feeling sexually excited and a little mischievous, and raised my arms over my shoulders and pretended to stretch. I checked for his response.
His eyes were wide with his gaze locked on my protruding breasts.
After a long moment I relaxed with my arms at my sides, hoping he had taken the bait. He leaned toward me and gently lowered me on my back. His hands were trembling as he raised my dress above my breasts, wrapped his arms around me, and fumbled at my bra hooks. My breasts were tingling, my nipples erect, as my breathing quickened and I felt my breasts bounce out of my bra as his expression changed to pure wonderment. I closed my eyes and felt his hands cupping my breasts, working them, his fingers exploring my aching nipples . . . then his warm moist lips surrounded my left nipple and gently sucked it into his mouth as his tongue worked from back to forward. I moaned in pure comforting pleasure and listened to him cooing to the rhythm of his suckling. An intense euphoria overtook me as I became joyfully overwhelmed with an instinctual biological urge to give him the gift of my breasts as he suckled, seemingly in a hypnotically comforting trance.
Forty-plus years later my husband has always worshiped my breasts, and I freely accepted his attention, and now at the age of 63 I have been joyfully giving him the bountiful milk from my nipples for three years. Now as I sit in a chair completely naked, my husband sitting on the floor between my thighs, he locks his gaze on my nipples.
“Look at those nipples!” he says. “They are so beautiful! They bring me all the joy the universe can offer.”
He kisses all around my right breast, then the left one, and lightly suckles the area of firmness around my right breast until he has taken the nipple fully into his warm mouth as his tongue rhythmically works and I begin to feel it . . . my breast flutters with pleasurable ripples that descend to my nipple and I feel the release of my milk . . . The gift of my love into his mouth.
He moans, sucks rapidly, swallows loudly, and then slows to a relaxing rhythm and coos contentedly. His suckling so comforting, the love that I’m feeling for him causes me to embrace him deeper into my nipple and I moan with a special kind of intense joy that only comes during his suckling. I run my fingers through his hair, kiss his forehead, and pat him on the back, as my mind wanders. Since we were teenagers he has been my strong warrior and protector, physically and emotionally, but when he bows to my breasts his armor and sword vanish, his soul is laid bare, and he becomes a totally different creature. Because of his craving for my breasts and milk I feel more feminine. Now at the age of 63 I have the healthy fruitful breasts of a young woman.
He unlatches from my right nipple, gazes upward at me with a sparkle in his eyes. “Your milk is so smooth and sweet,” he says. “Like melted ice cream.”
Then he latches on to my left nipple with a rapid hungry suckling that eventually slows and sends me into a trance. . . .
Some time later, I don’t know how long, I feel his cock rising up my calf, hot and throbbing and powerful. He tightens his legs around my calf and begins thrusting, his excitement stirring my insides as I become wet for him and envision what will come next. Sometimes I want him gentle and other times, like now, I want him like an animal. I shove him backward, unlatching him from my nipple, and continue shoving him until he is on the floor on his back. I gaze for a moment at his hard probing cock. He is squirming, hunching over his belly, seeking his home, my place to fill with his love. Watching him in this exciting frenzy thrills me and pushes me over the edge.
“Take me!” I scream frantically, breathing rapidly, and get on my knees, arching my back with my head on my crossed arms and lifting my butt for him. “I need to feel you inside me, filling me with your gift of cum. Take me! Take me!”
Suddenly I hear him jump to his knees, feel his strong hands firmly grasping my hips, the frantic probing of his hot dick between my buttocks, and then . . . the fullness and heat of his dick rhythmically entering, passing the entrance, and sliding all the way in. He moans, I moan. He moans louder and begins thrusting faster, harder, and deeper, panting, begging, as I feel his head swelling and throbbing. Now he is lifting my butt in the air with his forceful thrusting, moaning and gasping, almost as if he were in pain. He is totally out of control and I love seeing and feeling him on me in this wholesome kind of insanity that he reserves only for me.
My vagina tightens around him, as waves of intense orgasm overtake me, and I shriek to his ever quickening thrusting. Then he abruptly stops thrusting, the head of his dick swells, his whole dick spasms and jumps inside me as he explodes hot cum, pumping, pumping, and pumping, as I tighten around him, stimulating him for more, and I cum again with alternating shrieks and grunts.
As our breathing slows and we share in the warm afterglow, he gently moves his dick in and out as if lovingly massaging the place he calls home and I feel the last gush of his gift and moan softly. I sigh, relaxing, and think how happy — at the age of 63 — I am able to give my husband the wholesome gift of my breasts and still make him crazy for me.June 24, 2016 at 12:32 am #1530Erika KeanParticipant
Thank you to you both for sharing your story! My husband and I are about your ages, married as long, and share similar appreciation and enjoyment of my breasts and their delicious life-giving abundance. It would be a rare and precious thing to have a real-time acquaintance with you!June 28, 2016 at 5:36 pm #1549milkywaymamaParticipant
Thank you so much for sharing these wonderful accounts…. Truly something I am aiming for in my relationship. I turn 50 this year, and I believe I finally found my true soulmate… Adult Nursing is something we both want very much, along with all the beautiful side effects that I keep reading about… I have just begun my journey re-lactating after 20+ years since having my babies and I am finding it very fulfilling. Again, thank you for sharing!!
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