Only Mother's Milk

copyright 2002 axel the swede

Jamar slammed the door to the room he had once shared with his brother. He leaned against the wall, his heart racing. His first day home, and already it had started, he thought. One look at his mother, breastfeeding his new sister, had been enough to bring all the powerful feelings back.

He was home to work for the summer in San Diego. The University of Michigan seemed very far away. But, his visions of Brigid Carlson were not dulled by distance. They were so real.

He closed his eyes and let his head bump back against the wall. The arousal he had endured, through stolen glances at Brigid as she breastfed her newborn son, would continue. But now, his summer torture would be at the hands of his own mother. He wondered what offense he had committed against the fates. Why did he long to touch what could not be touched, to taste such forbidden nectar?

Soft knocking on the door brought him back to the moment. “Jamar, you are upset, my son. Please open the door. Talk to me.”

He turned and grasped the doorknob. He willed his body to relax, to assume a calm exterior. Jamar cherished his mother, Amita. She had always been his buffer between him and the father who ruled his sons, and his house, with an iron will.

Jamar looked into his mother’s dark eyes. Like so many thousands of times before, he was taken with her beauty. She was just a bit shorter than Jamar’s five foot, ten inch height. Her dark hair, falling in gentle curls to frame her soft features, had yet to see a trace of gray. Her body, under the loose wraps of her golden colored sari, was the epitome of the female form.

“Here, I made you tea. Sit and drink. Calm yourself. When you are ready, come up to my chambers. We can sit and talk. The light there, this time of the afternoon, is so peaceful.”

He took the delicate cup from his mother’s hand. “I am calm now, mother. I will follow you.”

They made their way through the hall to the stairs. Jamar fell back a few steps to allow his mother to lead the way. As they climbed, he couldn’t help but take in the beautiful flow of her movements. The sari is such an amazing garment, he thought. Wrapped loosely on a mature woman, her physical charms were hinted and teased at, rather than brazenly displayed.

They stepped into the three room suite that took up almost all of the upstairs portion of the house. The first room had a long couch and two comfortable chairs arranged around a low table. Three narrow windows, extending almost floor to ceiling, were covered by dark red drapes. Sun shining from the west gave the room a muted, rosy hue.

“Are we alone, mother?”

She turned to him and motioned toward one of the soft chairs. “Your father has your brother at his new store. We will not see them until late, I think. And, little Niru is sleeping.”

Jamar sat, careful not to spill his tea. “My new sister is a beautiful child. She seems to be a happy little one.”

Amita sat gracefully in the other chair and smiled. “She is a joy to me. I know you were surprised when I told you I was with child again. With you and your brother grown, you must have wondered what we were thinking.”

Jamar nodded. “I confess, Jagdish and I engaged in some speculation.”

They laughed together, breaking the tension that had built up between them. Their conversation flowed after that. Jamar brought his mother up to date on his experiences at school. Amita shared family news from the months just passed. A half hour flew by as mother and son renewed their shared love and mutual respect.

Amita poured tea for both of them. Her manner turned serious. “My son, I sense a sadness in you. What is troubling you?”

Jamar picked up his cup, hesitating as he tried to gather his thoughts. “You know me well, mother. I am not sure I can share my troubles.”

“I saw the look on your face when you saw little Niru suckling my breast. I saw your pain. Can it be feelings of jealousy are filling your heart?”

Jamar shook his head. “No, no, mother. Seeing you and Niru is such a beautiful thing. I love my little sister. She will always have my affection and a big brother to help her any way I can.”

“What then, my son? Why did that sight cause you such pain?”

He knew his only option was the complete truth. His mother would see right through any attempt at subterfuge. She would conclude that he was indeed, jealous. And that would trouble her every time they were together.

Jamar sighed and stared down into his cup. “I fear I have been bewitched, mother. A woman, totally unavailable to me, has captured my thoughts in ways I never believed possible.”

“This woman, she rejects you because of our race?”

“No, mother, nothing like that. She is married and has a child just a month older than Niru.”

“How could a woman in such a position bewitch you? I don’t understand.”

Jamar leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. “I must tell you the whole story, mother. I pray you can help me. I need your wisdom.”

Of course. Please tell me everything. I want to help you. Then I will ask you to hear the truth of our situation here. I hope we can help each other and ease our troubled minds.”

“Is it father? Has he done something?”

“Do not jump to conclusions. Let us deal with your situation first. I want to hear about this woman who troubles your mind. I was wrong to mention the situation here so soon. Please tell me your story.”

Jamar nodded and said, “Her name is Brigid Carlson. I tutor her husband, Rick, in two of our classes. We meet at their apartment twice a week. They have just one big room with a kitchen in one corner, a bed in another corner. It’s in an older house, in Ann Arbor.

“While I work with Rick, she is there. She nurses her baby right there in front of us. I confess, watching her quickly became a fascination for me. At other times, those mental images of her breastfeeding have occupied my mind.”

Amita asked, “Does she flaunt her breasts while she does this?”

Jamar considered for a moment. “She is a very open, friendly person. I don’t think she realized the effect she had on me at first.”

“But, later?”

“As time went on, I think, yes, I’m sure she knew very well what she was doing. It became a sort of game between us. She enjoyed teasing me. I’m sure it became a sexual thrill for her.”

Amita busied herself by pouring more tea. “And what of her husband. Did he realize what was going on? Did he fight with you, to defend his wife?”

“He pretended not to notice at first. Then, I think he came to enjoy some kind of thrill out of my watching. He enjoyed the fact that I was seeing his wife’s large breasts in their naked glory. Last week he even told me that, after one of our classes. He said both he and Brigid would miss my visits during the summer.”

Amita shook her head slowly. “I have a hard time understanding that. I believe you, Jamar. But, I don’t understand it. Tell me what exactly went on when you visited their home.”

“I think they waited for me to arrive. When I walked in, Brigid’s breasts were usually straining against whatever she was wearing. Many times I would see where her milk had leaked, and caused dark circles where her nipples pressed again the material.”

“Rick and I sat at their kitchen table. Brigid sat in their big chair. I had only to glance up to see her, not ten feet away. When we got started into the books, she would gather up her son and start his feeding. At first, she would just unbutton her blouse from the bottom. She used those special bras, where each cup could be unfastened. In the past month she changed that. She just took off her top entirely, and wore no bra at all.”

He stopped talking as he saw his Mother’s eyebrows raise. “She sat with her breasts entirely exposed to your eyes?”

“Yes, and I abandoned my attempts at pretending not to watch. I stared openly, right in front of Rick. We didn’t get much done on the coursework. I watched her little boy drain whichever breast she offered him first. It was fascinating to look at the breast he was not feeding from. It swelled and the nipple became red and swollen too. I could see droplets of milk form on the little bumps of her large areolas. A large drop would usually form at the tip of her thick nipple and just hang there, suspended. Brigid would meet my eyes once in a while. Sometimes, she would wink at me. Most times she just smiled.”

“Then she would move her son to her other breast. After that, I would watch as she tensed the muscles in her upper thighs. A look of total contentment would come over her pretty face. Her breathing grew quicker. Then, the color would rise, first on the skin on her bare chest above her breasts. The color would spread up her neck, and into her face. I didn’t realize what that really meant the first few times I saw it. Then it dawned on me, she actually gained her release at those times.”

Amita shifted in her chair. She put her arms under her own swelling breasts and lifted them with her forearms. Jamar leaned forward and crossed his arms, resting forearms near his knees. Describing an encounter with Brigid had caused his cock to grow hard. He tried to hide the tent he had made in the front of his pants from his mother.

Amita said, “There can be no doubt, my son. This woman was using you for her own pleasure. Do I need to ask what effect her wanton behavior had on you?”

Jamar chuckled, grateful for the little break in the tension he was feeling. “I sought out the only remedy at hand.”

Amita laughed first, quickly joined by her son. Jamar wanted to leap up and hug her. Once again she had become his refuge from the things that troubled his mind. For all his pretensions of maturity, he was still his mother’s little boy. Her gentle manner and ability to listen and understand him were the perfect medicine for his ailing mind.

“What were your feelings when you watched, Jamar? What was the depth of your desires then?”

Jamar didn’t hesitate. “I wanted to go to her. I wanted to drop to my knees and take that swollen red nipple between my lips. I wanted to taste her nectar and drain that plump breast until she begged me to stop. And then I wanted to take her to the bed. I wanted to strip her naked and lay her out with her legs spread. I wanted to bury my root between her legs and just have her. I wouldn’t have even cared if her husband watched. I would have loved her with more power than she had ever seen. I would have poured my seed deep inside her, making a child if that was to be.”