Her tits hung down and begged to be touched, to be massaged, and yes to be suckled by her son. It had been over 20 years since my eyes had seen her br...asts and my lips had contacted those nipples. In the fog of my testosterone fueled mind there was this dim memory of the softness of a breast and the rubbery nipple between my lips. “It must be Helen’s breast,” I told myself. “No one can remember being a year old.”Now I saw her breasts not as a supply of life giving milk but as objects to arouse. We were resting between bouts. Claudette was on my left and Marie was on my right. Each woman was resting one of her globes of flesh on my chest, which I found to be a visual delight. They would take turns offering up a nipple for me to taste and each one enjoyed the ministrations I offered with my mouth.Suddenly there was an unexpected knock on the door. It was a series of raps of a strange pattern. The door didn't open but I knew it was a signal to me that there was a visitor to see me. I. More

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