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Most of the memories that I share are from long ago. Sometimes I must wait months or even years to get an approval. I don’t like writing fiction because it seems to always miss those small details of emotions that memories fill in. I do not believe I have an eidetic memory, as I am no genius, but I do have a very strong memory, capable of recalling subtle details. But this is not the case. Today is 5/2/2025, it is a stormy Friday in Forney, TX, and this happened just a few hours ago.
Well, to be fair, it started many months ago. This wonderful passionate woman ( @ANRChicana ) who had been following my writings from Louisiana, has family in Dallas, not to far from me. While she was here, she asked if she could come over for an ANR session. Of course, I was thrilled and honored to partake in her desires.
However, thirty minutes into our session, I got the call that my ten-year-old daughter had fallen off a trampoline at a birthday party and possibly broken her arm. So, like a good Dad, I ended the session with many apologies, then quickly attended to my daughter. Thankfully she only bruised her funny bone and was out of a sling in seven days.
Many months later, I noticed this wonderful woman commented on one of my writings. I thanked her for doing so, still embarrassed on cutting her session short. But she let me know that in a few months, she would be returning to visit family, and would love to pickup where we left off.
Pause Writing. – Seriously, how lucky am I??? As most know, just convincing a woman you are not using ANR as a gateway is hard enough. But cutting a session short? That failure. Personal failure. It is a tease to the woman—and worse, could be viewed as a possible rejection. I mean it’s just astronomically bad. But much like the odds of getting struck my lightning (twice), this wonderful woman has offered a second chance. How lucky am I??? I think I will buy a lottery ticket today!
So, the day had finally come, and the door bell rang, and sure enough, there she was, smiling and so happy to see me. I welcomed her in the door and gave her a big hello hug! She had been through quite a bit of stress today and asked if I would prepare the shower for her, which was ready to go.
After escorting her to the shower, which has been pre-warmed, I excused myself from the bathroom. But a bit of panic set in. The master closet is inside the master bathroom—and on the shelf was the toy breasts my former Mistress had gifted me. Part of me started to panic, wondering what she would think of me if she found them. Even more so if she discovered that they were actually a masturbatory toy—and yet sealed up with glue so it could not be used as such. Knowing she had seen my videos gave me a bit of comfort. If she asked, I would tell her the truth. My former Mistress bought the toy and sealed it, so it could only be used as a training device to keep up my stamina and jaw strength.
Finally, I heard the shower turn off, but I stayed out of the bedroom. Although I knew of the activity to come, I waited for her permission. Several moments later I heard her voice, “Come in…”
As I walked into my bedroom, there she was, in the middle of the bed, completely covered up to the neck with my comforter. For all I knew, she had redressed, so I proceeded with humility, and allowed her to reveal what she wanted to.
As I climbed into the bed beside her, she smiled at me, “Since the last time, I had much more of a chance to read and study the memories you wrote about. And one stuck out to me as quite fascinating. You had a writing in the past, but I am not sure what it was called, where you caressed the woman’s breasts with your fingers, and the way it was written, sounded devilishly delightful. That how we should start, through soft caressing.”
I nodded softly as my left hand reached over and began tracing lines and circles upon her upper chest. She moaned in delight and slowly began pulling the comforter down. As she did, my finger traced lower, until it was touching the top of her breast, circling, and dipping into her cleavage.
Lower she pulled the comforter, as more of her breast became visible, all while my fingers continued to draw the lines. Goosebumps rose from her skin as she softly moaned. The tip of my fingernail was producing a very satisfying reaction.
As the comforter continued to descend, the top of her areola became visible, but I was mindful not to touch it, not out of fear, but instead to preserve that feeling for when she wanted me to latch upon it.
Finally, the comforter slipped below her nipples, which were rock hard with anticipation. As the air from the ceiling fan blew upon them, the bumps in the areola stood up, but yet, my finger traced around the areola, along her cleavage, to her upper chest, across to the other, down along the side, and just above the areola and back.
Then, as if to highlight their large size, the comforter fell a good five inches down upon her midsection, fully exposing her breasts to my eyes. My finger now traced along the underside of her breast, then doing soft circles around her areolas, and along her cleavage, and across the upper sections.
As she laid there, looking at me with such passion in her eyes, she melted into the bed of pillows and memory foam. “This so relaxing!” She exclaimed. Though the lights were not on, the light peaked in through the shutters, giving the room a soft candle-like feel. In that moment, I wondered how I could be so lucky to be in such a situation.
Here is this beautiful woman, was laying before me, with her rich, full, luxurious breasts being softly teased from the wind of the ceiling fan and my circling fingers. Her nipples were rock hard, surrounded by large oval shaped areolas, that had small bumps on their own. And—even though she appeared to be cold, she looked so comfortable being warmed by the soft memory foam, and my hands, caressing her.
She watched me with such passion, as my own eyes followed my finger around her beautiful large breasts. All these thoughts were passing through my head at a rapid pace. All the while my finger continually traced the outline of her breasts, softly caressing them as enjoyed.
“When the suckling is complete, I want you to repeat this caressing of my breasts. Will you do that for me?”
As my finger continued, I smiled, “Of course Ma’am. I am delighted in your enjoyment.”
“Latch on to me, and suckle upon my left breast.”
Just as my finger stopped, and I positioned myself for a long suckle, her arms reached forth as her hands embraced my head and guided my lips down upon her waiting breast. As her nipple graced my tongue and lips closed on her areola, her arms closed around my head in a giant snuggle, trapping me to her, as she moaned and breathed in deeply to the first sensations of being suckled. “Ohh….good boy!”
My hands squeezed and massaged the upper diagonal muscles of the breast as my thumbs worked the underneath side. My hands massaged in concert. First, a back-and-forth motion, then a triangular motion, all while my lips and tongue remained latched and suckling. She moaned in delight, kissing my hand as it passed before her lips, loving ever minute of her attention.
I am not sure if karma is on my side, but just as lips touched her areola, I heard the sound of the rain hitting the bedroom window. Through all the caressing, I had failed to notice the candlelight semblance of the light peaking in through the shutters had stopped as the clouds rolled in. The room had gotten progressively darker, but still bright enough to see. But the sounds of distant thunder and soft rain just made the moment. Every part of my body relaxed as our legs intertwined and we melded together, like soft butter in a pan.
The feel of her soft breast against my freshly shaved face made my heart flutter. I am always amazed at how my memory fails to remember how the breast feels against my skin. Even with my memory, each time my face is graced by the flesh of a breast, it is a new experience. Perhaps the softness and beauty of the breast is so exquisite, my own brain questions if it is real. As if it cannot accept that something this luxurious exists in nature. Either way, I am grateful for this lapse in memory. It allows me to have those oh-so-sweet first times over, and over again.
As her nipple was softly riding up and town my tongue, and my lips were massaging her areola, she was twirling her fingers in my hair and gently rubbing my back. All while thunder and lightning raged outside. The exchange going on was pure euphoria. Twenty minutes felt like five. I don’t even remember switching to the other breast, all I remember is the soft moans of her re-living that brand new sensation all over again. But what I do remember is the soft kisses she continually placed on my hands as they massaged her breast in concert with my suckling.
As we continued, somehow, she ended up almost on top of me, trapping my head between the bed and her breast, but there was not one concern in my body. It was a heavily and undeserved embrace that I could only be grateful for.
After the session organically came to its conclusion, she allowed a few serious and silly pictures that just made the session phenomenal. You can see those pictures here or in my profile.
Once she was dressed, hugged, and thanked for coming, she left. I hope she feels as good as I do. ANR is such a wonderful embrace. I am truly the lucky one.Well written and yes you are very lucky to get a second chance, not many are as fortunate as you. Cherish your memories.
Dear Kevin,
Thank you for this fantastic story, I really enjoyed it.
Women are amazing and we men need to learn to play this amazing “instrument”. And the more we learn, the better it will sound.
Thanks again Kevin
Have a nice day.
József
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