Human breast milk

Human breast milk
I'm a college student, and for convenience, I rented a room near the school. Many college students rent apartments off-campus these days; some for studying, some to live with their girlfriends, and some for prostitution. It's also common for prostitutes to frequent areas near universities.
It was almost eight o'clock that night, and I was walking back. To avoid encountering groups of prostitutes, I had to walk through a long alley. As I walked, I saw a person standing halfway down the alley. Suspecting she was a prostitute, I slowed my pace. As I got closer, I realized she was just a plain-looking country woman. I looked her over carefully. She was about twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old. She wasn't ugly, but she wasn't beautiful either. She had a round face, a smooth forehead, and small but watery eyes that conveyed a gentle kindness, yet also a hint of desire. Her lips were full and slightly parted, revealing a row of white teeth, and there was a flirtatious beauty mark at the corner of her mouth. She was slightly plump, wearing an old coat, gray cloth trousers, and cloth shoes, which were relatively clean, but a little too small, making her fleshy figure appear more prominent. She walked like a sow, her large buttocks swaying back and forth. What was most striking was her breasts, quite large, jiggling back and forth, and she was probably not wearing a bra. I thought to myself, "I hope those breasts don't sag too much."
"How much?" I asked her.
"Eighty dollars," the country woman said.
Actually, the price isn't expensive, but I shook my head and said, "It's too expensive!"
I lifted my foot to leave, but the woman grabbed my sleeve. "Well, fifty yuan will do."
I led her to my rented single room. As soon as the door closed, the country woman didn't say much and started taking off her clothes. She did it quite quickly, unbuttoning her coat in a couple of seconds. I saw that she wasn't wearing a bra underneath, only a wrinkled old polyester shirt. The collar was undone, and only one button was fastened at the chest, leaving the rest open, revealing her fair and alluring flesh. Her breasts were very large, making the shirt bulge and cling tightly to her flesh, almost revealing their spherical outline. The nipples on her breasts stood out prominently, as if they were about to burst through the shirt. Two round, dark brown circles were visible through the fabric, piercing my eyes. The shirt struggled to hold up her two plump breasts, lifting them slightly, but the two breasts looked domineering. With the movements of the country woman, they swayed wildly, as if they had a mind of their own, angry at the shirt's restraint, and were struggling together to break free and rush into a free space to show the world their long-hidden beauty and sensuality, and to express their long-suppressed tenderness and maternal love.
I walked over, put one arm around the country woman's waist, and cupped one of her breasts in my other hand. The woman didn't resist; instead, she smiled proudly, puffing out her chest, seemingly unbothered by my touching. Her breasts were indeed large; I couldn't even hold half of them in one hand. I lifted them a little higher; they were very firm and heavy, truly the real deal. I lifted her breast a little higher and then suddenly let go. Her plump breast slumped down, jiggling a few times with remarkable elasticity.
I grasped the country woman's breasts, kneading and playing with them. My palms gently caressed her nipples, my fingers gliding over her nipples and areolas, feeling their softness and elasticity. Stimulated by this, her nipples became noticeably erect; even through her clothes, they felt like hard rubber balls, tickling my palms. Her entire breast writhed happily under my hands. The country woman moaned softly, and her nipples became slightly damp. I pinched one of her erect nipples, and milk soaked a large patch of her shirt.
"No wonder your breasts are so big, you must have milk!" I said. "Perfect, it's nice to taste human milk."
"No," the country woman said seriously, "You can touch, but you can't suck on the nipples."
I laughed and said, "You're a prostitute, what are you afraid of looking ugly about?"
"Are you afraid of looking ugly? I've already breastfed my baby, you can play with these breasts however you like. I just had enough milk today, if I feed you, what will my baby eat?"
I pulled out a fifty-yuan bill and said, "Add another hundred for nutrition expenses, to buy formula for your baby. Is that alright?"
The country woman took the money without hesitation, half-closing her eyes and letting me play with her breasts. I unbuttoned her shirt, and two large, white breasts rolled out from her arms, exposed to me without reservation. These were breastfeeding breasts, completely different from the small, delicate breasts of a young girl. They were full and swollen with warm, sweet milk, hanging heavily, about the size of a cantaloupe, swaying back and forth, emitting a warm body temperature and a slightly milky scent. I could almost hear the sound of the two breasts colliding and the sloshing of the milk inside. The dark brown areolas almost covered the entire nipple, rising high to form a hemisphere, studded with the small fleshy bumps characteristic of breastfeeding women, and covered with a layer of fine, soft hair. In the center of the areola, a large nipple stands defiantly erect, a full inch long and half an inch thick, jet black and glossy, robust and well-developed, covered with crisscrossing fleshy lines, wet and sticky. It resembles a large, candied date, soaked and marinated in syrup, exuding an alluring mature charm.
I cupped the country woman's left breast, gently caressing and kneading it. A drop of white milk dribbled from the nipple, hanging precariously on the tip. I opened my mouth, took the nipple in my mouth, and gently sucked. Suddenly, a large gush of milk gushed out, spraying into my mouth. I couldn't hold it in, and some milk spilled from the corner of my mouth, almost causing the nipple to slip off my lips.
The country woman asked me to rest my head on her lap so she could breastfeed me, and I immediately complied. She supported my head with her left arm and her left breast with her right, positioning her nipple against my mouth and stuffing the nipple and areola into my mouth. This country woman's nipples were already large, about an inch long, and with the areola, they almost completely filled my mouth. Before I could even suckle, I felt the nipple in my mouth begin to swell and harden. The country woman seemed to become sensitive, her chest involuntarily thrusting forward, as if trying to shove her entire breast into my mouth. I cooperated by pressing my face against her breast, feeling its warmth. I wrapped my arms around the country woman's slightly plump waist, inhaling her sweet, slightly fishy scent, my tongue licking her nipple and areola, savoring the soft yet firm sensation, licking the rough texture of her nipple, and the fine hairs and bumps on her areola.
Sweet milk flowed continuously from my nipple, and I began to suckle voraciously. My nipple and areola reflexively contracted, and a large gush of sweet milk gushed out, filling my mouth—hot, sticky, and slightly fishy, with a milky aroma that filled my nostrils. I increased the pressure, deliberately making "sizzling...sizzling...sizzling...sizzling..." sounds. The country woman remained silent, her breasts thrust out as I suckled. After a while, she tightly embraced my head with both hands, as if afraid I would run away, or perhaps afraid I would stop suckling. This country woman was strong and vigorous, her milk thick and plentiful. With each forceful suck, she unconsciously tensed her body, her breasts gushing milk out like a high-pressure water gun—a sensation only breastfeeding women could experience.
I suckled for a while, the force of the milk ejection weakening, and the breast gradually softened and shrank. Finally, all the milk was sucked out, only a small trickle of clear liquid flowing from the nipple. I spat out the left nipple, wet with a mixture of saliva and milk. I freed my hands, cupped the left breast, and squeezed it, then gently bit the nipple with my teeth, trying to squeeze out the last drop of milk. The country woman's face was flushed, and she hummed softly. Suddenly, I bit her nipple. "Ah!" the country woman cried out, her body trembling. Her right breast bounced happily, dripping milk, the flesh swaying back and forth like a large, fragile jelly, gleaming white under the light. My stomach churned, and I let out a fragrant, milky burp.
The country woman turned to the side, offering her right breast. I lifted it; it was full and heavy. I raised it high, then suddenly pulled it down, the fleshy mound bouncing a few times. I held it, gently flicking the nipple with my fingers. "Ah...ah...ah..." The country woman gasped, swallowing hard, her head tilting back, her body convulsing. Her right breast jerked, revealing faint blue veins, the nipple erect as large as a ping-pong ball, a stream of milk shooting from its tip. I caught it with my tongue, the milky scent intoxicating. Suddenly, the country woman reached out and embraced my head, pressing her breast against my face, the soft flesh completely blocking my mouth and nose. The nipple almost reached my throat, the areola swelling and pressing against my upper jaw, filling my mouth completely. I could barely breathe. With a spurt of her milk, a large gush of sticky, fishy-smelling milk poured down my throat, forcing me to swallow it down with all my might. The milk sprayed out even more vigorously, and the country woman trembled with excitement, moaning incoherently, "Ah...ah...ah...ah...ah...ah...ah..."
I kept suckling, head down, and as the milk gradually decreased, the woman's moans subsided. The nipple in my mouth softened and shrank. After sucking out the milk, I spat out the nipple, which had lost its former grandeur. The areola was only slightly raised, and the fleshy bumps on it had receded a little. The more I looked at it, the more adorable it seemed. So I cupped the breasts in my hands, gently squeezing them to make the areolas protrude and the nipples stick out. A few drops of milk spilled from the nipples, wetting my hands and giving off a faint milky scent.
I gently sucked on the nipple, lightly biting it with my teeth, my tongue scraping across the areola, savoring the sweet, lingering milk, enjoying the soft hairs and prickly little bumps. My tongue teased the nipple; each time it pressed down, the nipple would spring back up, even pressing it into my breast, only to spring back up with a "whoosh" when I released it. I pressed my lips tightly against the nipple and pulled upwards, as if stretching rubber, pulling the areola up more than two inches; as soon as I opened my mouth, the nipple retracted. Stimulated by my touch, the nipple became engorged and erect again. I spread my fingers and pressed them against my breast; the nipple pressed hard against my palm, strangely itchy. A wonderful sensation traveled from my palm to my entire body, drilling into my heart. A handful of soft flesh was in my hands, soft and warm, as if juice were about to flow from between my fingers. I played with it to my heart's content. Sometimes I caressed her gently, sometimes I kneaded her vigorously. Her breasts were like two large dough balls, flattened and rolled back into rounds, kneaded to the right, then bounced back to the left, kneaded to the left, then bounced back to the right – truly incredibly elastic. The country woman trembled slightly with my stimulation, letting out soft, coquettish breaths. Her two plump breasts rose and fell with her breathing, wriggling like two suction cups, firmly holding my hands, unable to let go.

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