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Her Sweet Offering – Based on a true story.
This is based on a true story, names and locations were changed to protect her identity.
Her Sweet Offering:
I was lying in bed with my wife, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm hue across the room, when the familiar chime of a KIK message broke the quiet. Instinctively, I turned over and grabbed my phone, the screen lighting up to reveal a message from someone who had been on KIK for a while.At first, I was skeptical. The platform often attracted its fair share of spammers, and I’d grown cautious over time. Still, something about the timing—or perhaps the message itself—piqued my curiosity. I decided to play along and see where it might lead.
The message read:
“Hey from milk sweet milk—wanna suckle?”
I stared at the screen for a moment, processing the unexpected boldness of her words. A small smile crept across my lips. It was bold, yes, but it felt… intriguing.
After a few back-and-forths, we began to ease into a rhythm of conversation. She introduced herself as “Ellie”—a name that carried a gentle, inviting energy. Ellie explained that she had a three-year-old, and, since she didn’t have a car, her sister or mother often helped by picking him up at night and taking him to daycare in the morning.
She seemed genuine—a refreshing change from the usual empty or overly formal messages I’d grown used to on KIK. Ellie’s words were straightforward and to the point, something I hadn’t often encountered in women online. She definitely took me by surprise.
“So,” she wrote after a brief pause, “would you like to come over and have a session and feed from me?”
I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the keyboard as I considered how to answer. Normally, the women I met online didn’t flat-out say “come over” right away—it usually took days or even weeks to get to that point. But I reminded myself that everyone is different, and sometimes, opportunity only knocks once.
“Absolutely,” I admitted. “But it’s been a while since I’ve had someone actually lactating. Most women I meet say they’re going to induce, and then stop for one reason or another. I’ve also been looking for the right connection, someone who understands the dynamic and… enjoys it as much as I do. Do you think we might meet tomorrow?”
Her reply came quickly, the words lighting up my screen almost instantly:
“I understand… actually, I was hoping for tonight.”
I sat there for a moment, processing her response as excitement bubbled in my chest. My mind raced, drifting to memories of the last time I’d nursed from one of my partners. The experience had been unforgettable—her milk had tasted like honey, warm and sweet, which made perfect sense since she cared for a small farm of bees and consumed honey regularly.
Something about Ellie’s invitation stirred that same sense of anticipation. A flicker of excitement turned into a spark. It wasn’t often that a connection felt this immediate, and I knew I had to make a decision soon.
So, as casually as I could, I turned to my wife and asked, “Would you mind if I met a new partner tonight?”
She smiled, unfazed, and said, “Sure, have fun—let me know when you’re heading home.”
Encouraged by her response, I got up, took a quick shower, and messaged Ellie to let her know I’d be on my way soon.
Her reply was almost instan
“Great. Would you be open to touching me as well?”
I smiled to myself and typed back, “I’d love to, but only if the moment feels right.”
Her response came with a smiling emoji and, “See you soon.” A moment later, she sent her address.
As I pulled up to her apartment, the cool night air nipped at my skin. The excitement thrummed through me, mixing with a hint of nervous energy. When she opened the door, I was momentarily stunned by her beauty. Her black hair was braided neatly, framing her youthful, striking features.
She wore a snug, gray-and-black snuggie that looked soft and cozy, perfect for the chilly 30-degree night. Her warm smile lit up her face, and her teeth were so perfect they made my knees feel slightly weak.
Then, in a quiet but blunt tone, she said, “I’m naked underneath.”
I blinked, caught off guard by her boldness. For a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. I managed an awkward chuckle, trying to settle into the moment. Being the way I am—demisexual—I needed to feel a deeper connection before diving into anything physical.
We sat and talked for a while, the conversation flowing naturally. She shared her experiences with ANR, noting she has been lactating since the birth of her son three years ago. She confessed that the idea of someone nursing from her excited her and, with unexpected honesty, expressed that she liked being used and wanted me to feel free to do whatever I wished with her.
Her openness intrigued me. “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?” I said, curious about her story.
“I’m 28,” she said, her voice soft but confident.
I was taken aback again; she looked younger but carried herself with a poise that added to her allure. The tension between us was palpable now, a mix of anticipation and unspoken curiosity.
As I sat there, my thoughts raced. Her honesty, her confidence, her vulnerability all drew me in. I knew we were on the cusp of something intimate and profound. I couldn’t wait any longer. I looked into her eyes, leaned closer, and thought to myself, I have to taste her milk.
Your writing is very intimate and flows well, effectively capturing the anticipation and emotional connection. Here’s a slightly refined version to enhance the pacing, sensory details, and overall immersion, while keeping the tone consistent:
If I were being honest with myself, I had never stopped thinking about what her milk might taste like. From the moment she mentioned she was lactating to the instant she agreed to let me into her apartment, the thought had consumed me. It wasn’t just idle curiosity—it felt like an addiction, something I craved deeply but rarely had the chance to indulge in. Finding the right partner was always a challenge, making moments like this feel all the more precious.
As my thoughts raced, I realized I’d been silent for too long. Without thinking, the words tumbled out of my mouth: “Are you ready?”
She smiled, her lips curving into a coy expression that made my heart skip a beat. Without a word, she reached for the front of her snuggie and opened it slightly, letting the soft fabric slide from her shoulders. She held my gaze for a moment, her dark eyes shimmering with a mixture of confidence and vulnerability.
My breath caught as I took her in fully for the first time. Her petite frame seemed even smaller against the oversized couch in her living room, her delicate features illuminated by the warm glow of a nearby lamp. The snuggie pooled around her waist, revealing smooth, flawless skin that seemed to glisten faintly in the dim light.
And then, there they were—her beautifully shaped breasts, full and inviting, crowned by dark, perfectly round areolas and slightly erect nipples. They seemed to draw me in, almost magnetically, my eyes lingering as I took in every detail. My heart raced as I admired her openness, her beauty, and the quiet courage in her vulnerability.
She watched me silently, her smile softening into something warmer, more inviting. The tension in the room grew thicker, the air heavy with unspoken anticipation. I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening as I fought the instinct to dive in without restraint. Instead, I steadied myself, took a deep breath, and gestured for her to move.
“Here,” I said softly, pointing to the floor in front of me.
Without hesitation, she complied, lowering herself gracefully to the carpet and leaning back against my legs. Her trust was palpable, and it deepened the connection between us, making the moment feel even more intimate.
I let my hands rest on her shoulders for a moment, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my fingertips. Her body relaxed under my touch as I began to massage her shoulders with slow, deliberate movements, letting my thumbs press gently into the knots of tension I could feel there.
She sighed softly, the sound sending a wave of electricity through me, and tilted her head slightly to the side, inviting me to continue. From her shoulders, my hands glided down her arms, tracing the delicate lines of her muscles, before returning to her upper chest. Her breathing matched the rhythm of my hands, deep and steady, as the tension between us began to melt away.
When my hands reached her breasts, I paused, letting her adjust to the shift in intimacy. Her body responded almost instinctively, a faint moan escaping her lips as I began to massage them gently. Her skin was impossibly soft, warm, and supple under my touch.
I kneaded slowly, my thumbs brushing over her nipples with the lightest of touches. She shivered, and then, almost as if in response to her body’s excitement, a small stream of milk squirted from her right nipple. The sight both surprised and mesmerized me, intensifying the intimacy of the moment.
Her breathing deepened, her chest rising and falling more noticeably now. The quiet intimacy of the room seemed to wrap around us like a cocoon. It wasn’t just about the physical act—it was about the trust, the connection, the unspoken understanding we shared.
Leaning in slightly, I let my lips hover near her ear, the closeness making my voice come out as little more than a whisper.
“Are you comfortable?” I asked, my tone gentle and reassuring.
“Yes,” she breathed, her voice barely audible but filled with sincerity.
Her answer encouraged me, emboldened me. My hands lingered, exploring her with reverence, savoring the closeness and the growing anticipation of what was to come.
After a few minutes of listening to her soft moans, I couldn’t wait any longer. The desire, the anticipation—it was all too much. “Lay down on the couch,” I said, my voice low but steady.
She complied without hesitation, her lips curling into a smile that held a mix of mischief and trust. As she leaned back, her eyes fluttered shut, as though surrendering herself completely to the moment.
I stood from the couch, taking a step back to fully admire her. She lay there, her perky breasts on full display, the soft curve of her body glowing faintly in the warm light of the room. Her expression held a mix of anticipation and fulfillment, as though a long-awaited fantasy was finally becoming reality.
Her snuggie had slipped further down, now pooled around her waist. Her petite frame seemed even more delicate as my eyes trailed downward. Her smooth, glowing skin led to a hint of a landing strip peeking out, just above where the soft fabric rested. She had shifted slightly, and the snuggie was tugged down just enough to reveal the curve of her hips and a glimpse of her upper thighs.
She looked divine—her body a perfect harmony of sensuality and grace. The way she lay there, completely at ease, her breathing slow and steady, made my heart race. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, the beauty of her vulnerability and the unspoken invitation in her relaxed posture pulling me in like a magnet.
I let the moment linger, savoring the sight of her, the quiet intimacy filling the room. Every detail—the glisten of her skin, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the curves of her breasts as her nipples hardened from the cool air—made the anticipation of drinking from her even sweeter.
It wasn’t just her beauty that held me captive; it was the unspoken trust, the vulnerability she offered without reservation. I could feel the weight of the moment, the depth of connection that transcended the physical. The thought of drinking from her, of indulging in something so intimate and primal, made my pulse quicken.
The room was silent except for the sound of our breathing, the stillness amplifying the tension between us. My eyes traveled over her body once more, taking in the way her petite frame seemed to radiate both strength and softness. Her anticipation mirrored my own, the slight arch of her back and the subtle parting of her lips betraying her eagerness.
I stepped closer, my gaze locked onto her breasts as she lay there completely exposed and vulnerable. The moment felt electric, every nerve in my body alive with the desire to bridge the gap between us and taste the sweetness she was so willingly offering.
I stepped closer, my gaze locked onto her breasts, perfectly full and inviting, as she lay there completely exposed and vulnerable. The moment felt electric, every nerve in my body alive with the desire to close the space between us and taste the sweetness she so willingly offered.
Without saying a word, I knelt beside the couch, my hands gently resting on her waist. She looked down at me, her dark eyes filled with warmth and anticipation. The room felt heavy with silence, as though the world outside had faded away, leaving only the two of us and this shared, intimate moment.
I leaned in slowly, my lips brushing the soft curve of her breast before taking her nipple into my mouth. The warmth of her skin, the faint sweetness of her milk as it began to flow—it was overwhelming. I melted into the experience, savoring every drop as it filled my mouth, rich and warm, with a subtle sweetness that made my entire body shiver.
She let out a soft moan, her hands clenched at her sides as she arched her back slightly, offering herself to me completely. Her milk flowed eagerly, as if her body had been waiting for this moment as much as I had. I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensations—the feel of her skin against my lips, the rhythmic release of her milk as I suckled, and the gentle sound of her breathing quickening in response.
It was divine, a perfect blend of physical and emotional intimacy. The connection we shared in that moment was—raw, unfiltered, and deeply satisfying.
I placed my left hand over her, cupping her breast as I gently massaged it. My right hand moved to the top of her other breast, kneading and pressing, coaxing more of her milk to flow. Each drop felt precious, and I was determined to savor every bit of it. The warmth of my left hand against her skin kept her breast soft and full, while my fingers teased and played with her nipple, sending subtle shivers through her body.
Her right breast filled my mouth, releasing milk in a steady stream. The taste was exquisite—sweet, yet natural, like milk straight from the source, warm and comforting in a way that was utterly consuming for someone like me. Every drop carried an intimacy that went beyond the physical, connecting us in a way that felt both primal and profound.
As I drank from her, I could feel the rhythm of her heartbeat quickening beneath my lips. Her body responded with subtle shifts, her breathing growing heavier as her soft moans filled the room. I slid my left hand down her body, the warmth of my palm trailing over her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. My fingers moved in a slow, deliberate rhythm, both caressing and seducing, as though coaxing her entire body into submission.
Her moans grew a little louder, her chest rising and falling as her body surrendered to the sensations. There was a beautiful vulnerability in the way she gave herself to me, her trust deepening the connection we shared. I continued to drink, savoring the taste of her, feeling the tension in her body ebb and flow with every motion of my hands and mouth.
It was a moment of pure connection, the kind that made everything else fade away. Just the two of us, locked in a dance of trust, desire, and fulfillment.
I continued to drink from her breast, my lips and tongue working in a steady rhythm as her milk flowed freely, warm and satisfying. Her soft moans were like music, growing louder with each gentle pull as I drew closer to her, the moment deepening with every passing second.
My left hand remained on her breast, massaging and teasing her nipple, the warmth of my palm keeping her skin supple and soft. My right hand wandered further, exploring the curves of her body. My fingers slid along her ribs, her stomach, and down to the curve of her waist, tracing every inch as if committing her to memory. Her body responded instinctively, arching slightly into my touch, her breathing shallow and uneven, her moans a blend of pleasure and need.
As I shifted my attention to her other breast, I let her milk spill into my mouth in a steady stream. The sweetness was intoxicating, the act itself primal and grounding in a way that felt like nothing else. I cupped her breast with one hand, kneading it gently to encourage the milk, while my other hand continued its exploration, caressing her thighs and hips. The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with the weight of shared intimacy.
Her hands found their way into my hair, her fingers threading through and pulling me closer as she let out a shaky breath. It sent a thrill through me, driving me to give her more, to make this experience as fulfilling for her as it was for me.
I paused for a moment, my lips brushing against her skin as I looked up at her. Her dark eyes were half-lidded, her expression a mixture of desire and surrender. “Are you okay?”
I asked softly, my voice thick with emotion.
She nodded quickly, her lips parting to release another soft moan.
Encouraged, I leaned back in, letting my mouth claim her breast once more as my hands began to explore her with a renewed purpose. My right hand slid further down, skimming her thighs, the heat of her skin drawing me closer. She shifted beneath me, her body pliant and eager, her hips lifting ever so slightly as though inviting me to continue.
I drank deeply, savoring every drop of her milk, its warmth and sweetness filling me with an indescribable satisfaction. My hands moved with deliberate tenderness, exploring her curves and responding to the way her body reacted to my touch. The combination of sensations—the taste of her milk, the softness of her skin under my fingers, and the quiet, breathy moans escaping her lips—was intoxicating, consuming me entirely.
Her body trembled faintly under my touch, each shiver spurring me on as I continued to nurse and caress her. The world beyond the room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of us, wrapped in the intensity of this shared moment. The connection between us grew stronger with every passing second, an unspoken bond solidifying in the silence.
As my left hand trailed up her thigh, I allowed it to glide gently across her most intimate area before continuing onto her other thigh. The light, teasing touch sent a visible shiver through her, her breath catching in her throat. I let my hand drift slowly toward her knee, my fingertips lightly tracing patterns along her skin, a sensual tickle that made her squirm softly beneath me.
With the same deliberate tenderness, I reversed the motion, my hand trailing back upward along her thigh, pausing once more at her center. I could feel the warmth and dampness of her through my fingertips, her body responding to the intimacy of the moment. Her quiet moans deepened, the sound like music to my ears, as I caressed her gently before moving my hand again to trace the soft skin of her thighs.
All the while, I continued nursing from her, drinking her milk with slow, deliberate pulls, savoring the warmth and sweetness as it filled me. Her body moved in sync with mine, her hands clutching at my shoulders as if to ground herself in the overwhelming sensations.
She whispered something under her breath—soft, unintelligible, her voice trembling with desire. Her vulnerability, her trust—it was all so beautiful, so intoxicating. I found myself completely captivated by her, drawn deeper into the moment with each passing second.
I let my lips linger on her breast, pressing soft kisses along its curve as my hand returned to her center. This time, I allowed my fingers to rest there, holding her in a way that felt both possessive and protective, as if honoring the trust she had so freely given me.
Then, slowly, I dipped my finger into her wetness. The soft warmth enveloped me, sending a shiver of electricity through my body as I touched her most intimate place. My movements were slow and deliberate, my finger finding her clit and rubbing it gently, eliciting a soft gasp from her lips.
Her body responded instantly, her legs parting wider to give me better access. The unspoken invitation, her eagerness, her surrender—it was divine, too perfect to be real, yet here we were. My finger slid deeper inside her, her heat and wetness guiding me as I moved in a steady, unhurried rhythm.
All the while, I continued nursing from her breasts, switching from one to the other, drawing her milk with slow, deliberate pulls. The sweetness filled my mouth, warm and comforting, as my free hand caressed and cupped her other breast, teasing her nipple and feeling the fullness of her skin beneath my palm.
She moaned softly, her breathing growing heavier, her chest rising and falling in time with the rhythm of my hands and mouth. Her hands gripped at the couch, her body arching slightly as I explored her, my fingers moving with increasing confidence, guided by her quiet sounds of pleasure.
Her legs trembled slightly, her thighs pressing against my wrist as I deepened my touch. The moment felt wild yet perfectly sensual, raw yet tender, as though we had unlocked something primal and sacred between us.
I pulled back slightly to look at her, her flushed face framed by her dark hair, her lips parted as she let out another soft moan. Her eyes opened briefly, locking onto mine, and in that fleeting moment, there was an understanding—a silent acknowledgment of the connection we had built together.
I leaned back down, kissing her breast softly before taking her nipple into my mouth again, nursing her as my fingers continued their gentle exploration. Her moans grew louder, her hips moving instinctively in time with my touch, her body surrendering completely to the moment.
As her body relaxed further, her soft moans giving way to deep, steady breaths, she closed her eyes to savor the sensations. I paused briefly, brushing my lips gently against her skin before whispering, “Sit up for me. Lean back against the couch.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and she nodded without hesitation. Slowly, she pushed herself upright, her movements graceful and deliberate. As she sat up, she began to unwrap herself from the snuggie, letting the soft fabric slide away to reveal her completely. The way she moved—calm, confident, and vulnerable all at once—was mesmerizing.
Now fully exposed, she adjusted herself on the couch, turning to face me as I remained kneeling in front of her. She leaned back, resting her shoulders against the back of the couch, her dark hair falling around her flushed face like a curtain. Her legs shifted slightly, and then, with a deliberate slowness, she spread them wide, revealing herself completely.
The sight before me was breathtaking—her body, fully open and on display, radiating both trust and desire. Her smooth, flawless skin glistened faintly in the warm light, her petite frame exuding both fragility and power. My eyes traveled over her, taking in every curve, every detail, as the intensity of the moment seemed to deepen.
She watched me, her expression soft but laced with anticipation, her lips parted slightly as though she was about to say something but chose instead to stay silent. Her vulnerability, her willingness to bare herself completely, stirred something deep within me—an overwhelming sense of appreciation, reverence, and undeniable desire.
Still kneeling at the base of the couch, I leaned in closer, letting my hands push her legs just slightly wider, creating a space for me to truly admire her. My fingers began to trace gentle patterns along her inner thighs, the soft skin warm under my touch. Each movement was deliberate, teasing, and slow, meant to heighten her anticipation with every passing second.
Her breathing grew more uneven, soft gasps escaping her lips as I continued. She shifted her hips slightly, instinctively pressing closer to my hands, her body responding to my touch with an eagerness that was as intoxicating as it was beautiful.
I let my fingers drift higher, brushing against the heat of her center before retreating again, teasing her. Her quiet moan filled the room, the sound sending a jolt of electricity through me. The way she surrendered so completely, trusting me to guide this moment, made it all the more intimate.
My lips followed the path of my hands, leaving featherlight kisses along her thighs, inching closer to her core. I could feel the tension in her body, the way her muscles tightened with each teasing touch, her anticipation building. Her hands gripped the cushions of the couch, her knuckles whitening as she fought the urge to pull me closer.
I paused, letting the moment linger, the air between us heavy with desire. Looking up, I caught her gaze. Her eyes were half-lidded, her expression soft yet desperate, silently pleading for me to continue.
I leaned forward, my lips brushing against the soft, sensitive skin at her inner thigh. The heat radiating from her was magnetic, drawing me closer with every kiss, every caress. My hands slid upward, cupping her hips gently, holding her as I finally let my tongue meet her most intimate place.
Her sharp intake of breath told me everything I needed to know. Her back arched slightly off the couch, her body melting into my touch as I explored her with slow, deliberate movements. Her taste was as intoxicating as the rest of her—warm, inviting, utterly unique, a flavor that seemed to embody the trust and connection we shared in this moment.
Her moans grew louder, unrestrained now, each sound carrying a mix of pleasure and vulnerability. Her body moved in rhythm with me, responding to every flick of my tongue, every caress of my hands. The moment was raw and primal yet deeply tender, a perfect harmony of passion and intimacy.
As I continued, I let my hands roam freely over her body, my palms sliding up the curve of her waist, tracing the delicate lines of her ribs, and returning to the fullness of her breasts. I cupped them gently, kneading them in rhythm with my movements, feeling the softness of her skin and the subtle weight in my hands. My thumbs brushed over her nipples, eliciting another shiver and a soft gasp as her body yielded further to my touch.
Every inch of her felt sacred, every moment unforgettable. I committed her to memory—the way her chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, the way her thighs trembled beneath my touch, the soft sheen of sweat glistening on her skin in the dim light. This wasn’t just physical—it was something deeper, a connection that felt as though it transcended the boundaries of the moment.
I paused briefly, pressing soft kisses along her inner thigh, savoring the way she squirmed beneath me, caught between anticipation and pleasure. Her hands found their way into my hair, pulling me gently but firmly, guiding me back to where she wanted me most. I obliged, diving back into her warmth, my lips and tongue working in tandem to drive her higher.
Her moans turned into whimpers, her fingers tightening in my hair as her body began to tremble more intensely. Her breaths came in short, uneven bursts, and I could feel the tension building within her, a wave cresting and ready to break.
I looked up briefly, catching her expression—her head tilted back, her eyes squeezed shut, her lips parted as she gave herself entirely to the sensations washing over her. It was beautiful, raw, and unguarded, a moment of pure surrender.
As the moment lingered, I let my lips trail upward, kissing her softly from her thighs to her stomach, savoring the warmth of her skin beneath my touch. Each kiss felt like an unspoken declaration, a testament to the connection we were sharing. My hands explored her heavenly body, gliding over every curve, memorizing every inch of her. It felt almost forbidden to be with someone so young and beautiful, her innocence radiating from her like a glow—but that only made the moment all the more intoxicatingly perfect.
Reaching her breasts, I latched onto her left one without hesitation, sucking vigorously as my tongue danced around her hardened nipple. The sweet flow of her milk filled my mouth, and I moaned softly against her, overwhelmed by the richness of her taste and the intimacy of the act. At the same time, my fingers found their way back to her center, sliding inside her warmth with ease. Her body welcomed me, her soft moans encouraging me to explore her further.
She relaxed beneath me, her body sinking deeper into the couch cushions as she let out a long, trembling sigh. Her legs spread even wider, granting me full access as I nearly lay on top of her, my body pressing against hers. I thrust my fingers into her, slow at first, then deeper and more deliberate, matching the rhythm of my lips as I drank eagerly from her sweet, full breast.
Her milk flowed freely, the warmth coating my tongue as I sucked harder, the sound of her soft gasps and quiet moans filling the room. Releasing her breast from my mouth, I cupped it gently, holding its fullness in my hand as I squeezed from the base to the top. A steady spray of milk arched into my mouth, the sensation of it tickling the inside of my cheeks. I moaned in pleasure, my voice vibrating against her skin as I swallowed the delicious, comforting sweetness.
Her body responded to me in waves, her hips lifting slightly to meet the thrust of my fingers, her breathing uneven and heavy. My free hand wandered up and down her body, caressing her stomach, her waist, her thigh—never letting her forget the attention she deserved. I returned my lips to her other breast, taking her nipple between my teeth and flicking it gently with my tongue before suckling deeply again, drawing more of her milk as her body writhed beneath me.
Every sound she made, every movement of her body, spurred me on. The moment felt timeless, each action deliberate and intimate, as though we had created a world where nothing existed but us. Her trust, her vulnerability, her surrender—it was all-consuming, a connection that went beyond words.
Her breasts were nearly emptied, and only the faintest drops of milk escaped when I gently squeezed her areola between my fingers. The moment felt sacred, the intimacy of nourishing from her filling me with a lingering sense of awe. But as my lips left her breast, a new craving took hold. I needed to taste her center again, to immerse myself fully in her essence.
I began kissing my way down her body, trailing soft, deliberate kisses along her stomach, savoring the softness of her skin. Occasionally, I let my teeth graze her lightly, leaving small nips that made her shiver beneath me. She gasped softly, her fingers clutching the couch cushions as I worked my way lower, inching toward her center.
When I reached her, I paused for a moment, taking her in. The sight of her—the delicate folds, glistening with anticipation, her thighs slightly trembling as they remained spread wide for me—stirred something primal deep within me. I let my tongue trace the contours of her, teasing her softly at first before plunging into her, tasting her warmth and wetness once again. The sensation was electric, her taste unique and intoxicating, filling me with an almost insatiable desire.
I alternated between licking her slowly, deliberately, and pulling away to admire her beauty. Her moans grew louder, her body arching slightly as I let my hands spread her apart, exposing her fully to my gaze. Her young, perfect center captivated me—the soft pink of her walls glistening faintly in the warm light, the subtle way her body responded to my touch. I let out a low, involuntary moan, the sound vibrating through me as I leaned in again, driven by pure desire.
This time, I took my time, my tongue exploring her folds and teasing her clit with soft, flicking motions before plunging deeper inside her. My hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as her body writhed beneath me, her gasps and whimpers filling the room. She tasted divine, her warmth and sweetness making it impossible to pull away.
Her fingers found their way into my hair, gripping tightly as she encouraged me to keep going, her body surrendering completely to the sensations. I moaned against her, the vibrations eliciting another sharp gasp from her lips. I could feel her trembling beneath me, her thighs tightening around my shoulders as she gave herself over to the moment.
After a moment or two of recovery, her breathing slowed, and her body relaxed beneath me. I pressed a gentle kiss to her inner thigh before pulling back to sit on my knees, taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks and glowing skin. She looked stunning—her dark hair splayed across the couch cushions, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath, her lips slightly parted as if savoring the lingering sensations.
I reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, my fingers trailing gently along her cheek before I let my gaze meet hers. I kissed her lips gently and took in her dark eyes that were soft and full of warmth, holding a depth that pulled me in even further. In that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for her trust, her willingness to share this intimate experience with me.
I leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, and then her lips, savoring the way she melted into the touch. Pulling back just enough to look into her eyes, I hesitated for a moment, gathering my thoughts.
“Would it be okay…” I began, my voice tender but laced with a quiet yearning. “Would it be okay if I penetrated you?”
Her eyes widened slightly, not in surprise but in acknowledgment of the weight of the question. For a moment, she held my gaze, searching for reassurance, for the understanding that this wasn’t just a request born of desire but something deeper—a need to share something even more profound.
She quickly said “No…” and then changed her mind just as fast. “Yes”
Concerned I said, “We don’t have too. It’s okay if we don’t I just…”
“Yes,” she said again, her voice soft but firm, her confidence shining through. She laid there eyes shut legs open as I got my condom out and put it on myself.
Her initial “no” stopped me in my tracks, my heart sinking slightly as I nodded in understanding. I was about to tell her it was okay, that there was no pressure, when she quickly changed her mind.
“Yes,” she said, her voice firmer this time, her tone steady despite the hesitation that had preceded it.
Still concerned, I searched her expression for any signs of doubt, wanting to be absolutely sure. “We don’t have to,” I said gently, brushing her hair away from her face. “It’s okay if you’re not ready. I just—”
She cut me off softly, opening her eyes to meet mine. “Yes,” she repeated, more confident now. Her gaze held a mix of vulnerability and trust, the weight of the moment grounding us both.
I nodded, giving her a small smile of reassurance. “Okay,” I said, my voice soft, steady, and full of care.
As she lay back, her eyes closed once more, her legs still open in quiet invitation, I reached for my bag and retrieved a condom. The sound of the wrapper tearing seemed loud in the otherwise silent room, and I moved carefully, making sure to stay attuned to her every breath and movement.
Sliding the condom on, I took a moment to steady myself, my eyes never leaving her. She was stunning, lying there in complete surrender, her body open and trusting, her hands resting lightly at her sides. Her breathing was slow and steady, but there was a subtle tremor in her body that mirrored the mix of anticipation and vulnerability that I felt too.
I leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips, then her cheek, before whispering, “If you’re uncomfortable at any point, just tell me, okay?”
She nodded, her lips curving into the faintest smile. “I will,” she whispered back, her voice barely audible but filled with sincerity.
With that reassurance, I positioned myself between her legs, my hands gently caressing her thighs as I aligned myself with her. I moved slowly, carefully, giving her time to adjust as I began to press forward, the warmth of her body surrounding me inch by inch.
But as I penetrated her, something didn’t feel quite right. I paused, adjusting myself and trying again, only to realize the problem—the condom wasn’t lubricated properly. Frustration briefly crossed my mind as I stopped completely, realizing I had only brought one condom with me.
I looked into her eyes, a mixture of apology and care in my expression. “Something’s not right,” I said softly. “The condom isn’t working the way it should. Let’s not force it.”
Without a word, she nodded, understanding immediately, and I gestured for her to climb on top. She moved quickly, gracefully straddling me without hesitation. Her petite, lovely frame settled over my lap, her thighs pressing against mine as her warmth enveloped me again in a different way.
As she positioned herself, I couldn’t help but marvel at her once more—her beauty, her willingness, her trust. Her vulnerability and confidence blended together in a way that left me in awe. She leaned forward, her chest level with my face, and I instinctively reached for her, my hands finding their way to her sides and up to her breasts.
This position, with her above me, was always my favorite for nursing. Her breasts dangled just in front of my face, perfectly inviting, and I wasted no time. I cupped both of them in my hands, feeling their fullness as I guided her closer. Her nipples brushed against my lips, and I opened my mouth to take them in, greedily sucking and savoring the warmth and sweetness of her milk as it flowed once more.
I shifted slightly, pressing her breasts together with my hands, bringing both nipples into my mouth at the same time. The sensation was intoxicating, her milk filling me as I sucked eagerly, my tongue flicking and teasing the sensitive peaks. She moaned softly, her hands resting on my shoulders for balance as she arched her back slightly, offering herself more fully to me.
Her petite body moved gently against me, her warmth and softness pressing into mine as I drank from her. The rhythm of her breathing, the quiet sounds of her pleasure, the way her body seemed to melt into mine—it all added to the intimacy of the moment. My hands roamed her back, her sides, her hips, caressing her with deliberate care as I nursed from her, completely lost in the connection we were sharing.
Her milk was gone, but I couldn’t help but moan whenever I tasted her, the vibrations eliciting another soft gasp from her lips. I could feel her body relaxing further, her trust deepening as she surrendered to the sensations. It wasn’t just about the physical act—it was about the closeness, the unspoken understanding that this moment was about more than just pleasure. It was about sharing something deeply personal, deeply intimate, and profoundly beautiful.
Here’s a continuation that captures the tenderness and reflection of the moment:
As she unstraddled me, moving gracefully to sit beside me on the couch, I could feel the warmth of her body lingering on my lap. Her cheeks were still flushed, and her hair cascaded around her face in soft waves, a beautiful reminder of the passion we had just shared. I reached for her snuggie, draping it gently over her shoulders to shield her from the chill in the room.
“Here,” I murmured softly, tucking the fabric around her. “I don’t want you getting cold.”
She smiled, a small, content smile that lit up her face and made my heart ache in the best way. She pulled the snuggie around herself, her petite frame disappearing into its folds as she leaned back into the couch cushions.
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The quiet intimacy of the room surrounded us, filled only with the sound of our breathing as we both processed what had just happened. I turned slightly to look at her, letting my eyes linger on her once more.
I wanted to remember everything—the curve of her shoulders, the delicate way her hands rested in her lap, the faint pink hue of her cheeks, and the way her dark eyes held a softness that seemed to draw me in. She had been a dream come true, an embodiment of trust and desire, and I wanted to hold onto every detail of her in my mind.
“Thank you,” I said softly, breaking the silence. “For… everything. For trusting me.”
She turned to look at me, her lips curving into a gentle smile. “Thank you,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “But…I need to get up early in the morning…”
I immediately got the hint and started to get ready to leave, but I didn’t want to. But I knew lingering there would only make us dive even deeper into what we had done, and it would keep her awake. I told her I would love to see her again if she wanted and with that we hugged and said our goodbyes.
This was one of the best ANR experiences I ever had. I thought I would share and hope that everyone gets the chance to experience something like this.
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This discussion was modified 1 week, 5 days ago by
Matt (ADMIN).
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This discussion was modified 1 week, 5 days ago by Matt (ADMIN).
anrfriends.com
ABF Erotic Story. Based on an experience I had with one of my ABF partners. - General forum for how to’s, meetups, experiences etc. - ANR Friends
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This discussion was modified 1 week, 5 days ago by
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