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A few days ago, a wonderful elder woman, who moved to Florida to be with her grandchildren, that I had and ANR relationship with several years ago, contacted me over my writings. She thought her story would make a great one to share, so I wrote it, and with her blessing to share, here it is.
In 2021, amidst COVID, I was a part of a tight nit Kik group that was dedicated to ANR. This was before Kik was sold and ads and bots were introduced. It was the last bastion of actually knowing you were talking to a real person. Today it is loaded with Ads, bots, and P2P. But I digress…
Marth, a 67-year-old woman from Grand Prairie joined the group. We had wonderful group discussions about the different aspects of ANR and how it affected the suckler and the sucklee. After one particular discussion on whether the sucklee should be clean shaven, or if beards were the ‘adult’ part, she liked my take on the skin-on-skin factor of the sucklee being clean shaven, so she asked to PM me, which I agreed to.
The text was very like-minded. She was not a pure ANR person, but she did agree for the most part, ANR is an act of euphoria rather than extasy. One drawback was the age gap. She was 67, and I was 45. She felt her advanced age would likely exclude her from a genuine partner and open her up to an abusive one. However, several of the other women in the group spoke highly of me, so she was already willing to give me an opportunity. But she was trepadatious about her looks. She was not a thin woman, and her breasts were of the look and condition of a woman her age. She was certainly not shy about demeaning herself. There were clearly some self-confidence issues.
Several days later, she invited me over to her house. When I entered, she was wearing a long white gown, and a glowing smile. She asked if she could hug me, which of course I said yes too. The hug was quite intense as she rubbed my back and thanked me for coming. Afterwards, she invited me into her living room, where we sat and enjoyed some chilled red wine.
As we talked, and I discussed my background, she expressed how she loved my passion and respected the training I had received. As I continued talking, she untied the robe and gently began moving it aside. I watched as her beautiful left breast was revealed, like a sun rise, as the white gown was gently pulled aside. I was quite astonished. Her breast, white and smooth, was of beautiful shape and appearance. Why one earth she had any self-confidence issues was beyond me. Her sudden reveal had stopped me mid-sentence, and by the smile on my face, she in turn glowed from my reaction. If this had been the end of our time together, the acceptance that I had exuded was gift she sorely seem to need. She smiled from ear to ear, as her eyes slowly gazed down upon her own breast, “Woops,” she said playfully. “It appears I let one of the cats out of the bag.”
I smiled back at her, “It is certainly magnificent. Its presence is certainly a stunning one and welcomed one.” She was absorbing the words from my mouth, as the desert absorbs the rain of the monsoon.
Her cheeks became flushed and I could tell that this was attention she had not seen in a long time. But there was a true air of class about her. Women my age would have already welcomed my lips to her breast, but Martha enjoyed the subtleness of the moment.
As the wine bottle softly clanked against the metal bucket as the ice beneath it continued to melt, she eyed me, “Tell me more…”
I can still remember exactly what I said, gently in a loud whisper, “People say there is evidence of God all around us, if one would just look. And looking at the perfect symmetry of your breast, how it has the tear shape of a rain drop, but looks softer than a mound of powdered snow, I can’t but think of what a lifegiving shape it is. Your breast, softly staring at me, has both entranced me and calmed me. I love how it both curves away from you, then back into you. Just following she smooth curvatures with my eyes has given me goosebumps.”
“Oh, has it now?” she said seductively.
She put a few pillows of the floor in front of her, the motioned with her finger, “Come to me dear.”
As I slid off the couch and came to her, she embraced my head with both hands as she welcomed my lips to her areola. She moaned as her nipple slid down my tongue. “Oh, your latch is better than you described it!”
I could feel the milk ducts in her areola as my lips massaged them. She kissed my forehead several times as she cuddled my head and enjoyed herself. In time, she revealed the right breast, and moved my latch over. Enjoying the new sensation all over again, she softly muddled words of praise as she kissed my forehead.
I cannot tell you how long we stayed in the position, but when she pushed my head from her breasts, the sun had already set. She kissed my head again, “You know a woman of my age is not as sensitive as she once was. Certain things take a lot longer to do. I certainly hope you are not tired.”
I smiled at her, “Not at all.”
She stood and took my hand, “I would like to continue in the bedroom if you don’t mind.”
“That sounds exquisite!”
As I walked into her bedroom, she had a huge king size bed that was lined with pillows on pillows on pillows. She pulled the covers back and positioned herself in the center. She then welcomed me into her bed, and to her breasts. She pulled the covers on top of us as our legs intertwined. She then wrapped up with me, using both arms, cuddling me like a big teddy bear.
The ANR sessions lasted through the night. At about 6am, she kissed my head until I woke, then welcomed my lips back to her breast for a wakeup session. Her alarm went off at 7am, when she had to get up and get ready for work.
She walked me to the door, kissed me on my forehead, and thanked me for a wonderful evening of ANR. As I drove home, the sun peaking over the horizon made the think of how her breast peaked out around her gown. Beauty in all its forms…
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