Discovery
By Joan 
The urge to be suckled is difficult to articulate. Even now, as I stare at this blank computer screen trying to put “that feeling” into something coherent and meaningful that has led me to where I am today.
Even before I knew what “it” was; before I knew there was a name for it, I had always enjoyed being dry suckled and nursed by my husband. It became part of our pillow talk and role play, the quiet sexy talk whispered in a lover’s ear. I liked the sensation of his mouth on my breast hungry for something it no longer provided. I loved the sense of calm it seemed to give him…and to me. His whole body would relax, I could hear the internal sighs of comfort. I would wrap him up and provide that bit of comfort sometimes as a prelude to lovemaking or sometimes as a lull to sleep. His suckling felt different than typical breast foreplay I had experienced. It was deep and soulful, it had purpose and intent. Our sessions went in fits and starts depending on the voracity of life’s events but over time, the pillow talk evolved, and desires were shared. I wanted to nourish him. He wanted to be nourished, but I am what they call a “mature woman”, past the age of making babies. I felt I had an expiration date for such things and mine was way past.
