Everything began with something..

Hi to all my fellow sucklers and all you wonderful female suppliers,
breast enjoyers and milk providers.

After a long life lurking in the shadows, I’ve finally come to a conclusion:
I’m a breast-addict, I’m proud of it, and I never wanna to go to rehab.
Instead I seek to further explore, expand and embrace my addiction.
Why? Because breast is best, and there is no substitute for it.. fortunately.

I have been pondering lately of what initially made me interested and further down the road quite obsessed with a womans bosom, which in turn made me aware of the concepts ABF and ANR.
As far as I know, my mates sure enjoys a “nice rack”, but not to the extent as I do, nor with the same preferences of what makes a “good rack”.
I have no good explanation what made me so intrigued other than a few memories way back from my childhood and through my youth.
I’d like to share one of my first memories, and out of curiousity I would be thrilled if others on this forum will do the same. For me this is learning.
My guess is that guys in general will have more memories from their early childhood and youth, while you women probably from when you’re a bit older, and perhaps even only after having nursed your own children?

So, let’s take a walk down memory lane, and I’d like to present my first breast-awakening memory, which goes like this:

I remember clear as day my eyeopening event from the final semester at kindergarten, when I was around 6 years of age.
There was this lovely teacher named Maria who was in her mid 20s.
She was pregnant at the time, not sure how far, but guess four or five months before I noted her “circumstances”.
She was very sweet to me, and made me feel seen and taken care of.
She projected safety and had a voice which was soothing low and calm, unlike most of the other more harsh teachers there.
She probably just saw me as a small boy who had a lot of thoughts and questions about everything in this world.
In addition I was fascinated by the fact that she had a small human inside her belly. A fascination that grew as she encouraged me to talk to her child in her womb, which eventually became a daily ritual. Every afternoon I spent 10 minutes talking and saying goodbye to Maria and her unborn child, before my parents picked me up.
As time passed, I noticed her belly grew bigger and so did her breasts. I used to lay my head on her stomach with my ear down and face pointing towards her mammaries.
I remember the strange sounds from her belly, the feeling when the baby was moving and kicking inside of her, and the way she smelt… just like vanilla ice cream.
On the last days before summer break she wore a thin summer dress which showed her figure in all its glory. Oh my, the beautiful curves of a pregnant woman close to giving birth to new life just grabbed my attention.
And her dress was also showing a fair amount of cleavage, to which I had a close and full view during our goodbye-ritual that same afternoon. So there I was, my face just inches from her chest.
I could clearly see blue veins reaching out on the upper part of her big pale breasts, like rivers through a desert. Her nipples fighting against the fabric of her dress, getting stiffened by the afternoon breeze through an open window.
She sat in a couch with me resting my head on her belly while singing softly some song I no longer can remember. And then the phone on a table next to the couch suddenly rang. She had to reach forward and to the left to pick it up.
She must have forgotten me for a second, or just miscalculated her breasts’ new dimensions as she leaned over. For a few seconds, my face was in heaven, buried deep into her cleavage.. totally engulfed by two heavy breasts and I felt her silky soft skin against my cheeks.
The fact that I was unable to breathe did not bother me one bit.
As she sat back, I gasped for air and she realised my close encounter with her soon operating (if not already) milk factories. She apologised quickly but probably noted that I was more than ok, and attended her phone call.
I laid back to my “belly-listening” position and just watched her talk through the phone in her usual low voiced way.. I could hear her heart beating calmly through her belly and simultaneously watch her neck vein pump with the same frequency.
She gave me a smile (maybe even blushed a bit), seemingly slightly embarrassed over her near boob-suffication. Then she gently stroked my hair the last five minutes or so of our session, and I knew it there and then; I was head over heels in love with this woman, and already looking forward to our next encounter.
What I missed to comprehend of course, was that I was starting my first year at school after that summer, and I never met Maria again. She will always be in my heart though, as one of my best cherished memories.

Hope others will share some of their memories of milestones or just nice experiences which sparked events that ultimately led them to this community.

Peace, tits & serenity!