SUCKING PROHIBITED

She was five months pregnant when she pressed her increasingly bulging tits against my torso, tore open her dress and stretched her bulging udders towards me and pressed them into my spread hands so that I could embrace them. I kneaded her swollen mammary organs stormily while she moaned louder and louder and more violently and lustfully. My hands circled their firm contours. But when I lowered my head and wanted to put one of her in my mouth, she rejected me: “Please don’t!”

It was three days after our daughter was born. My little family had come home. During the afternoon, my wife had her milk bullet. Her tits swelled fourfold and her atria covered almost a whole breast. The rest of the day she lay topless on the living room couch or in the bedroom bed. When I got closer to her, she took her huge tits on the undersides in her palms and held them out to me pleadingly: “Please massage me. My tits stretch like this. “I didn’t have to ask twice. I almost stormed against her tits, embraced the outside and the roots, circumnavigated her contours as if in a trance, took the atria between my fingers and rolled them until the milk spurted out. At the same moment it spurted out of my best that she had just freed to give me relief with their hands too. However, when I tried to approach her dripping nipples with my mouth to drink the milk, she said, “No, please don’t suck!”

It went on like this for the whole of the next few weeks: Sometimes she had put the baby on one breast and asked me to stroke the free breast. But if I wanted to drink too, there was a “No!”

After breastfeeding, I should often stroke her breasts and encircle her nipples with my palms; other times she stood on all fours above me with my back on my bedside and begged me to massage her bulging udders. But as soon as my mouth approached the tips of her teats, her enthusiasm stopped. Our lovemaking was not abruptly stopped – rather, she took my hands in hers and ran them over the light skin of her breasts. So I gradually came to terms with the fact that I could touch her breasts in the near future but not suck or kiss them. Although – for a long time it only prevented my sucking, but not my kissing. I hadn’t tried that before.

So at the next lovemaking I gathered all my courage and kissed only the outside of her milk-filled breasts, then the roots, and finally the valley between the two milk hills. When I kissed pretty close to the edge of an atrium, a violent splash of milk shot out of her nipples – also from the other breast. It was pretty fascinating and exciting.

Soon, more than ten weeks after her delivery, her gynecologist had given her permission to have sex. He prescribed a contraceptive that she could tolerate. The evening after her doctor’s visit, she attacked me and sat naked on my lap while my best man entered her. I kissed her breasts intimately as I ran my hands around the outside. When her milk gushed out of her nipples and the bottom of her chest ran down, I licked my tongue at her. It seemed to excite her so much that more and more milk was running. Fearing that she could reject me again and abruptly stop our wonderful lovemaking, I did not suck on her nipples, but continued licking until we finally came at the same time and splashed her milk on my bare torso,

So the weeks and months passed. Despite baby stress we had sex and tenderness, I was allowed to touch, milk and kiss her breasts – but I was not allowed to suck!

It was a Sunday, our daughter was six months old. Early in the morning my wife came over to me, sat on me while I was still lying, opened her nightgown, took out her right breast, put it in my mouth and whispered to me: “Suck my little one. This breast, the milk in it is only for you from today. ”

The End.

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