Breasts

From the moment she was born the first taste she had was her mother’s milk falling from rotund, pointy breasts. The milk that came from her mother’s breasts allowed her to grow healthy and sprout into a child by nourishing her bones progress. As she grew into a girl she was curious to watch her own breasts grow into form. The form of these bumps reminded her of a time laying peacefully with her eyes closed across her mother’s arms and feeding on her most intimate white charm. Her breasts started off looking like small mosquito bites but eventually grew to fit the need for a training bra, as when she ran they would bounce all around. Then adolescence came and with it puberty. She became far more aware of not only seeing but feeing her breasts lying across the chest of her skin. When she was 15 she acquired her first lover and the first sexual sensation she felt was him rubbing up against her chest. The smile that formed across her face came from an innocent glee that only a teenager creates. Many lovers came that nibbled, bit and sucked on her breasts but at 34 her chest for the first time took the course of her mother’s breasts. Babe in hand, a small, delicate boy, she rested him across her arms as her mother had once rested her. She remembered how she felt when her mother had feed her. She began to weep with the sorrow of joy, her mother had died because her breasts grew cancer and defeated her body until it rested still of distress. Now there he was, her son, sucking on her white charm. She wiped away her sorrow and decided to celebrate life, for with him sucking on her breasts he was bringing his grandma back to life.