Breastfeeding My Brother

My older brother Russell had everything in life, so it seemed. He had been blessed with extraordinary good looks and intelligence. Although he did have a rather quirky side, for the most part you could call him the All-American male, at least in public.

Russell graduated from Pitt law school and then joined my father's firm. A couple years later he married his college sweetheart, Laurie. They often talked about having children, many children. Laurie and I became very close. She even confided in me about their wonderful sex life. Although Laurie admitted, with a wink, that Russell liked to get kinky on occasion. And she said she readily indulged his fetish because she loved him so much.

Kinky? Well, I did know Russell liked to wear lingerie. I first discovered that fact one day when I came home from school early because I didn't feel well and I found Russell in my bedroom. Naked. Going through my dresser drawers. I watched him pick out a bra and admire it. Then he turned and saw me. He didn't seem startled.

I didn't know what to say, so I said, "Uh . . . uh . . . Russell . . . so you like my push-up racerback bra?" I didn't think it would be wise to comment on his huge boner. At that point in my life I wasn't too sure what I might be expected do with such a thing.

"Yes, it's lovely. What color is this?" he asked as he licked the insides of the cups.

"Periwinkle," I replied.

I hurried out then, saying I had to get back to school. So I went back and suffered with the cramps. Better than watching my brother act like a pervert I thought. I never said anything about that incident but every time Russell came home from college I knew he had been into my intimate apparel. And his fraternity became infamous for clandestine panty raids. The coeds complained vociferously that the thieves not only took panties, but bras as well. They bitched incessantly about having nothing to wear under their tight sweaters. But nobody else complained. University police thought the matter rather humorous and gave the main culprits names like Bra-man and Thong-dong.

Once when Russell came home on break I got into his laptop computer when he went out with his buddies. I wouldn't exactly call it porn. Breasts. He had thousands of pictures of breasts, every size and shape imaginable. And then I opened his briefcase. Victoria's Secret catalogues. He had circled some of the bras with a magic marker. He didn't circle the girl in the bra, just the breasts in the bra.

I also found a notebook in his briefcase. He doodled. Not that he could draw but I knew what they were supposed to be when he put one or two word captions under the pictures like bahama mamas, balloons, bawagos, bazongoes, bazookas, beamers, bee stings, big brown eyes, blinkers, bodacious tatas, bombs, bosom, boulders, Bristols (English--if you've never been hit on by an English dude and seen the "Aaah, Bistol" advertisements you won't get this one. Bristols is rhyming slang, short for Bristol cities, meaning titties), brown suckies, bust, Cadillac bumper bullets, and on and on and on through the rest of the alphabet.

But time passed and I mostly forgot about Russell's little idiosyncrasies.

* * *

Laurie died just hours after giving birth after she developed a massive pulmonary embolism. The sheer joy of the new baby became lost in the despair of a mother's death.

"Sarah, you must help your brother through this difficult time," my mother softly to me after the funeral.

"Yes, Mother, so I must."

* * *

I didn't take me long to begin producing milk. A friend of mine with no neck hooked me up with his drug dealer, an unscrupulous Scottish pharmaceutical executive who was in the States to peddle "Stiffy" in the black market (that's the subject of my next story, "Size Matters, But A Stiffy Matters More"). But no steroids for me. I took massive dosages of Domperidone.

Russell named the baby Laurence. "Just don't call him Laurie," I cautioned. "It's Larry."

I moved into Russell's house to take care of the baby. Russell took a few days bereavement leave and then went back to the office. My father thought it best that Russell immerse himself in work and Dad immediately gave him a big case.

Larry slept a lot and hardly fussed, except when he was hungry. But when Russell would try to feed the baby the bottle, Larry wouldn't drink it and my brother wondered why. I didn't tell him what Larry liked to suck on. My mother watched the baby during the day while I worked. But only being a few blocks away, I shook loose several times a day to feed Larry. Or Mother brought him there and I gave him a drink in her car in the parking lot.

My parents and I hounded Russell to go out with his friends some time and have a little fun. He just seemed so depressed. Finally, Russell agreed.

Russell's friend Brian came over to pick him up. He came in for awhile and had a beer.

"Where are you guys going?" I asked Brian as Russell finished in the shower.

"Hooters at Station Square is having a big bash. Free wings with every pitcher of beer. But I don't like wings."

"Oh, you don't?" I inquired, just making conversation.

"No, I like the breast."

"Just like Russell," I muttered knowingly.

"What, Sarah? I didn't hear you."

"Why is it that the male of the species is so fascinated with breasts?" I snapped irritably, partly because he had been trying diligently to look down the front of my brand new AIX Armani Exchange white silk open-back halter dress. I hadn't worn a bra. The boss had told me to get all dolled up for work that day to impress some important clients. So I did. But I couldn't party with them that night I had insisted because I had to care for my infant nephew. The dudes looked so disappointed.

"Huh?" Brian blurted.

"You know--boobs--tits."

"Well . . . I . . . uh . . . it . . . uh . . . they . . ."

Just then Russell walked in the living room and saved his friend from further embarrassment. They, at Brian's urging, left in a hurry.

I looked through Russell's collection of old movies and decided on The Pawnbroker with Rod Steiger. I had seen it before and really liked it.

Soon I slipped off my dress and lounged around in nothing but my panties. I crashed on the couch and fell asleep watching the movie. Hours later I heard Larry fussing and went and got him. Immediately he latched onto my nipple and went at it greedily. I took him to the living room, started the movie over, and fed him on the couch.

And then Russell walked in.

"What the . . . Sarah . . . what . . . what are you doing?"

"Watching The Pawnbroker. Rod Steiger was nominated for an Oscar for this flick. Do you remember that 'blood on my hands!' final scene?"

"I kind of . . . uh . . . well . . . after I saw . . . uh . . . the rack on that black chick . . . I can't remember what happened after that."

"True, the movie did set a new industry standard for frontal nudity," I expounded. "Russell, is that all you think about--boobs?"

"Uh . . . well . . . I must . . . uh . . . say that yours are rather impressive, my dear sister. But why are you lying on the couch with Larry in nothing but your panties?"

"I'm teaching him how to please a woman, Russell," I joked. "It's best a dude gets started learning early because many men don't seem to be able to grasp the fundamentals." I snickered, thinking of my last lover. He had never performed cunnilingus until he met me, and once I "taught" him he never wanted to stop. Which was fine most of the time but people do have to sleep. Unfortunately he got transferred to San Francisco and phone sex just didn't seem an adequate substitute for what we had together in person. So I got a dog instead.

Larry had lost my nipple when he fell asleep. Now he opened his eyes and looked at his father with what I swear seemed like a twinkle in his eyes. "He's the one who looks pleased," Russell remarked.

"Russell, you remember that picture of you and Mother when you were a baby and she was breastfeeding you? The one I always laugh at every time I look at it. Mother says she didn't wean you until you could talk. According to her, the first sentence you ever said was, 'I want the breasty!' Like father, like son."

"Why yes, of course I remember, Sarah." He stared at me even more intently, focusing his eyes on the area between my neck and navel.

Just then Larry latched onto my nipple again and began to gobble hungrily.

"Yes, that's right, Russell, I'm breastfeeding your son."

"But . . . how . . . what . . . how . . ."

"Oh, don't be so naïve, Russell. Many adoptive mothers are able to breastfeed. Why, even some men breastfeed. Don't you listen to Rush Limbaugh?"

"You know, I do recall him talking about it. I don't think he likes the idea."

Russell sat beside me on the couch as I nursed Larry. He looked at me so . . . so . . .

"What is it, Russell? You are looking at me quite oddly."

"Not oddly, my dear sister--lustfully. I want the other one."

"Huh?"

"I want to suck your other nipple. Please, Sis? Laurie told me she would let me breastfeed."

"She did?"

"Yes. She knew how much it would mean to me. Won't you let me breastfeed, Sarah?"

"I just don't don't know . . ."

"Sarah, did you know that your breasts are lopsided? Larry prefers the right one, doesn't he?" I nodded in affirmation. "You're going to end up with boobs that don't match and you'll either need an implant for the smaller one or breast reduction surgery on the bigger one."

"Oh my God!" I wailed. I shrugged in resignation. He was my dear brother, and he had been through so much with the death of his beloved wife. "Don't drool on my puppies. They don't like slobber."

Larry had fallen asleep again. Russell picked him up and put him in his crib. My brother returned to me and began to tease and tweak my nipples with his hands. The tips soon stood at attention. "Nipples are packed with supersensitive nerve endings and there is a direct connection between the nerves in your nipples and your clitoris," Russell said rather scientifically.

"You need to use your mouth, Russell," I advised matter-of-factly. "That's the only way you're going to get much milk."

He did, gently biting and playfully pulling on my nipples with his lips. Then he slowly licked my areolas with the flat of his tongue as he would an ice cream cone. And then he latched onto one of my nipples with his mouth and got more into it than even his infant son had done. Russell got milk. He sure did.

I leaned back, closed my eyes, and let him drink from my left breast. But this felt different than Larry doing it. Really different.

"Russell, you're so smart. I know you know this. What does breast milk contain? You know, stuff that's good for you?"

He didn't act like he wanted to answer so I pulled him off my nipple.

"Okay, okay." Russell proceeded to tell me that breast milk contains casein, a fancy word for the special protein that helps to prevent gastroenteritis, respiratory infections, otitis media, some cancers, juvenile diabetes, and allergic reactions. And of course iron, lactose, and Vitamin C. Not to mention DHA--Docosahexaenoic Acid--which encourages brain development and stimulates vision. Oh, and lipase, lactace, and amylase.

"Well, I am worried about your health, Russell, because you don't eat right. I mean, you bring Taco Bell home every night. Seriously, take a good look at the people who work there. You are what you eat. Now, you go right back to what you were doing." He latched on a nipple again, this time the right one.

"I'm trying to make them look like twins," he paused to comment contentedly.

"Oh my God, I can't believe this is actually turning me on," I moaned softly after about five minutes as I slipped my hand down my panties.

But then I heard Larry fussing again and I lost the mood. I pulled Russell's face away from my nipple and went to his son. He protested vehemently, "I want the breasty!"

I came back in to the living room with Larry in a few minutes and said, "I shouldn't have let you, Russell. This isn't right. No more boob juice for you."

* * *

Two days later I got a lecture from my mother as she watched me nurse Larry.

"Sarah, breastfeeding is such a natural and beautiful experience, isn't it?"

"Yes Mother, it sure is."

"Russell spoke to me yesterday, dear. He is so upset. About you not permitting him to . . . you know."

I frowned. "Mother, I shouldn't have let him do it that once. A moment of weakness on my part. Do my breasts look lopsided?"

"No, not really. Sarah, your brother is still in a state of shock over Laurie's death. We need to humor him."

"You mean you want me to . . .?"

"Yes honey, I do."

After contemplating this for several minutes, I finally nodded. "So you think I should be a surrogate wife to Russell? Until his period of mourning is over and he finds someone new?" Mother nodded solemnly. "Well, I'll tell you this, Mother, I'll breastfeed his son and I'll breastfeed him, but I am not fucking my brother!"

Mother smiled and purred, "Do you recall what my favorite president once said? Oral isn't sex."

"Mother! You want me to suck my brother's cock? I'm . . . I'm . . ."

"Well, that or let him have sex with your breasts. I just can't stand the thought of Russell jerking off all the time. It's so juvenile. Once he has sufficiently mourned the death of a wife whom we all loved, he'll find a new someone special. Your familial duty as his only sister is to get him over the hump."

"I am not humping him, Mother!"

"Sarah, let me give you some motherly advice."

Mother informed me patiently me that if I digested enough semen I wouldn't have to take vitamins because it contains aboutonia, ascorbic acid, blood-group antigens, calcium, chlorine, choline, citric acid, creatine, deoxyribonucleic acid, fructose, glutathione, hyaluronidase, inositol, lactic acid, magnesium, nitrogen, phosphorous, potassium, purine, pyramiding pyretic acid, sodium, sorbitol, spermadine, spermine, urea, uric acid, Vitamin B-12, and zinc.

"But Mother . . ." I protested.

"One 'typical' serving is only 15 calories! And if you get it in your hair it's much better than any conditioner on the market."

"Mother, I don't worry about calories, I'm not fat!"

"You won't get fat if you suck it instead of fuck it. Not only will you avoid an unwanted pregnancy, women who perform the act of fellatio and swallow semen on a regular basis at least several times a week may reduce their risk of breast cancer by up to 40%!"

"Really?"

"Oh, yes indeed. They did the study at North Carolina State University on over 15,000 women. Why, I have the report right here. Listen to this from Dr. A.J. Kramer of John Hopkins School of Medicine: 'I think this study removes the last shade of doubt that fellatio is actually a healthy act. I am surprised by these findings, but am also excited that the researchers may have discovered a relatively easy way to lower the occurrence of breast cancer in women.' Oh, and Dr. Helena Shifteer, one of the researchers at the university says, 'Only with regular occurrence will your chances be reduced, so I encourage all women out there to make fellatio an important part of their daily routine. Since the emergence of the research, I try to fellate at least once every other night to reduce my chances.' Do you believe me now, Sarah?" * * *

That night Russell came home from work looking rather haggard. I sat on the couch nursing Larry.

"Wow, you look beat, Russell. Tough case?"

"The jury has been out for twelve hours now. We thought it would be quick. They keep asking to review testimony and exhibits."

"I think you need a drink."

"Yeah, I think I'll make a Long Island Ice Tea. Do you want one?"

"That's not what I meant, Russell. You can have a drink from my breasts."

"Really?"

"Yes, my dear brother, you can. Now put Larry in his crib. He's asleep."

Russell returned and sat beside me. He latched onto my left nipple enthusiastically.

Ten minutes passed in which all I heard was hungry suckling. Russell lifted his head, and belched.

"You sure got milk, honey!" he complimented.

"And what are you going to give me in return, bro?"

"I dunno, what did you have in mind?"

"Well, I need my nourishment too."

"Can I make you dinner?"

I snuggled up to Russell and gave him kisses all over his face and neck. I licked his lips as if I was lapping an ice-cream cone, sucked on the tip of his tongue, and grazed my lips against his. Then a full-blown lip-lock. He began to get fired up and went for my tits again.

"No Russell! You had your drink. Now I want mine."

"Drink of what? Hey, I have some Irish Crème."

"Yeah, we are part Irish, bro. I'll take some Irish crème. Make mine with aboutonia, ascorbic acid, blood-group antigens, calcium, chorine, choline, citric acid, creatine, deoxyribonucleic acid, fructose, glutathione, hyaluronidase, inositol, lactic acid, magnesium, nitrogen, phosphorous, potassium, purine, pyramiding pyretic acid, sodium, sorbitol, spermadine, spermine, urea, uric acid, Vitamin B-12, and zinc."

"Huh?"

I had begin to play in his crotch. I unzipped him. He seemed to be getting the idea although he still looked a little puzzled. "Yes, Russell, I want to drink your cum." I pulled his cock out and began to fondle it. But I couldn't get it to grow. "What's the matter, honey? Don't you want a blow job?"

"Oh Sarah, I just feel so guilty about letting my sister giving me head."

"Really? You'll suck my tits but you won't let me suck your dick?"

"It's . . . just . . . I . . . uh . . . well . . . it . . ."

"Did Laurie do fellatio?"

"All the time. She loved to do it."

"So pretend I'm Laurie. I know, we'll put a blindfold on you. Do you have any blindfolds?"

"Uh . . . no. But I know what we could use."

"What's that?"

"Your bra."

I glanced at my nursing bra hanging over a chair along with my blouse. "The cups are probably a little milky." "Awesome!" he cried as he fetched the bra and covered his eyes with it. He managed to also cover his nose and mouth with one of the cups. He got an immediate erection. Talk about rising from the dead.

"I want you to cum in my mouth, Russell." I knelt in front of him and stared at the big throbbing cock about ready to burst inches from my face. "I want your cock in my hungry mouth." I breathed on it gently and then rubbed the tip all over my face. "How bad do you want a blow job, bro?"

"Real bad, my pretty little sister, real bad," he moaned. "I feel like I'm going to explode."

"You are going to explode, Russell. Right down my throat."

"Do you think I have a big dick, Sarah? Laurie is the only one I ever had sex with. She said it was big. But she never had any other dicks, so she also said."

"You sure do have a big dick, Russell. Really big. Just the way I like it. But not too big. Otherwise I couldn't get it all in my mouth."

"You can get it all in your mouth? Oh my God! Laurie couldn't do that."

"Stayed tuned and I'll show you. You know, I think your dick is too big. I'm going to do you a favor and make it smaller."

"Huh?"

"I'm going to suck it until it gets smaller. Would you like that?"

"Yes, I think I would like that. Very much. You are so beautiful and I'm so glad you're my sister."

"Yeah, your cock-sucking sister. I think you're horny, Russell, real horny." I stroked his cock with one hand, held his balls in the other hand, as I flicked the head with my tongue. "I think you want to cum in my mouth real bad. I think you want to shoot a big load all over my face and tits, don't you honey?"

"Uh . . . yes . . . I . . . that would be nice."

"Not to worry, baby. I'm going to gobble and guzzle you like you wouldn't believe."

And then I did. I closed my mouth over the head of his cock and slid one hand up and down on the shaft as I gently tugged on his balls with my other hand.