Wet Nurse, Part 1

by Aurora

Today was the big day. Addy and Mrs. Benedict were going to meet for the first time. I had just tied yellow ribbons into Addy’s lustrous blonde hair, making her look even younger than her eight and a half years. But that was the idea: to make her appear as young as possible. If she looked too mature, Mrs. Benedict, the somewhat reluctant RN whom I’d hired to be Addy’s “wet nurse” might balk at what she had already agreed to do. After all these years, Addy still refused to be “weaned” and there was no way I could continue to be the person who provided nourishment to her. Even though I was her mother and loved her dearly, Addy was just too old to continue to nurse from me. At least Mrs. Benedict was a “disinterested third party” who would see Addy only to feed her and would be absent from her life at other times.

Addy looked at me innocently with her giant blue eyes and asked, “will Mrs. Benedict taste as sweet as you, Mommy?”

“I don’t know, honey, but in time you’ll acquire a taste for her I’m sure. You do have to remember, though, that she’ll need more sweetening up than Mommy before she can feed you.”

“Why, Mommy?”

“Well, she’s an older lady and hasn’t ever fed anyone like you before. Her flow will have to be kind of started up before you can feed.”

“Oh,” said Addy, somewhat dubiously.

“Don’t worry. Just sweeten her the way you sweeten me sometimes when I’m tired or a little dry.” I kissed her on the forehead. “You remember how. Just do those things to her and you’ll be fed soon enough. Just don’t be too impatient with her.”

“OK, Mommy, but I still wish…”

“I know, honey, but Mommy simply can’t nourish you anymore. Mommies don’t feed girls your age that way. Give Mrs. Benedict a chance. She’s a wonderful, warm person and you’ll take to her like a duckling to water.”

I stepped back to give her the once over before we left the house. She looked delightful in her white dress with its ultra short hemline. Her knee-length white stockings and silver ballerina flats completed the adorable picture: she was all dressed up for Sunday, except that it wasn’t Sunday.

Addy was visibly nervous as we rang the doorbell to Mrs. Benedict’s downtown apartment. After a short wait, the door opened and a smiling Mrs. Benedict answered. She looked different than she did when I first met her in her office to discuss Addy. At that time, she appeared a bit matronly in her loose-fitting nurse’s uniform. Today, in a grey sweater, clinging black skirt and high heels, she looked far more attractive. She was a tall, handsome woman with salt-and-pepper hair. Though she carried a few extra pounds around her middle, she had long, athletic legs. Standing in the doorway, she looked first at me, then down at the shyly smiling Addy. At first, it seemed that the woman was speechless, awed by the sight of my tiny angel and perhaps having second thoughts about the intimate activity we had planned. But her face gradually relaxed its expression and she smiled broadly at Addy exclaiming at how lovely she was. In a meek voice, Addy thanked her and blushed. Then Mrs. Benedict blushed, too—deep red—and stepped back to let us in.

Her lovely apartment reflected her personality and looked every bit the habitat of an organized professional: bright, airy, and casual, but with everything sparkling clean and in its place. Addy’s huge eyes took in the surroundings and then focused on the big red leather couch in the center of the room. Mrs. Benedict motioned us to sit down. As Addy climbed onto the couch, her pink panties flashed into view.

“She’s absolutely adorable,” Mrs. Benedict said quietly. “Are you going to leave her with me?”

“I thought it might be better if I were here to help the first time. I think Addy might be more relaxed that way.”

“Of course. Would you like some coffee or something?” I shook my head, no. She turned to my daughter. “Addy, can I get you something to drink? A coke maybe?”

Addy looked at me with questioning eyes, then back at Mrs. Benedict.

I hesitated, then spoke in a kindly voice to Mrs. Benedict. “You have to remember that she almost never gets her nourishment from… other sources.”

Mrs. Benedict again blushed blood-red. “Of course. I’m sorry,” she replied.

Slowly, we moved toward the couch. We sat, Addy and I flanking Mrs. Benedict.

“Honey, your mother explained your special feeding arrangements,” said Mrs. Benedict in a professional but kindly way. “She’s also explained that you must eventually be switched over to solid food, but—while we’re working with you on that—I’ll provide the— the nourishment you’ve been getting from your mother.”

“I know, Mrs. Bene— Benedick. My mommy told me.”

“Call me Sarah, dear. After all, we’re going to be very close.”

“OK Sarah.”

At that point, it appeared as though Mrs. Benedict didn’t know what to say or do next. She looked at me helplessly.

“I’m not sure how to proceed,” she began.

“The best thing to do is simply relax and let Addy get acquainted with you,” I said. Then I pointed to a small wicker chair nearby. “Would it be OK for Addy to bring that chair here so you can put your feet up on it and get properly relaxed?”

“I’ll get it,” said Mrs. Benedict. She arose and walked across the room, her long silky legs moving smoothly and gracefully. She retrieved the chair, sat down and put her feet up on the chair. As she did, her skirt rose up a little, revealing more or her shapely thighs than she had intended. She tugged on the skirt to cover the newly exposed flesh, while smiling at Addy. Addy smiled back, then reached over and gently tugged upward on the skirt so that it exposed even more of Mrs. Benedict’s body than it had before. Other than a quiet “Oh,” quietly spoken by Mrs. Benedict, there wasn’t a sound in the room except the ticking of an electric clock on the wall.

“She’s not being fresh,” I said. “It’s her way of starting to stimulate you so that you’ll get a good flow going for her. We call it ‘sweetening.’”

Almost imperceptibly, Mrs. Benedict bit her lower lip. “I understand,” she said, her voice sounding husky.

Addy looked over at me, her eyes asking me whether it was OK to go further.

“May she continue?” I asked.

“Yes, I suppose so.”

Addy reached up and quickly began tugging upward on Mrs. Benedict’s sweater, fussing a little when Mrs. Benedict seemed to resist having it removed.

“Really, I had no idea she was going to be this aggressive,” she said.

“You’re simply going to have to trust me—and her. Just let her have her way.”

The woman let out a sigh of resignation, lifted her arms, and let Addy pull the sweater over her head, exposing ample breasts under an almost transparent wire bra of black silk. Large, erect nipples were easily visible, as to shape and color, through the thin fabric.

“Oooh,” crooned Addy, “so pretty, like Mommy’s.” She reached up and gently squeezed the right breast, then drew her head close to the woman’s chest and gently took the right nipple into her mouth, quickly beginning to suck it through the fabric of the bra. Mrs. Benedict’s eyes widened as she beheld the suckling child, listened to her sweet slurping noises, and felt the pleasure/plain inflicted by the gentle but urgent biting of the perfect little teeth.

To help relax Mrs. Benedict, I bent toward to the wicker chair, where her feet rested, and pulled off her high-heeled shoes. I began massaging her ankles and her soles. She didn’t protest what I was doing. In fact, she slowly closed her eyes, surrendering to Addy’s kissing, nibbling and enthusiastic sucking which got noisier by the minute. Finally, Addy pulled aside the bra to gain unfettered access to the woman’s breasts and their full, red and swollen nipples. Mrs. Benedict kept her eyes tightly shut and I was sure I heard a quiet sigh escape from her. Things were going well so far.

With direct access to the woman’s breasts, Addy became more zealous and bold in her efforts to elicit nourishment. Finally, I asked Mrs. Benedict if she was getting wet. Her eyes flew open and she stared at me.

“You mean?”

“Yes,” I answered.

She looked down at the furiously sucking girl.

“I wish I could nourish her from my breasts.”

“But you can’t,” I snapped, getting a little impatient with her reluctance. “And anyway, she doesn’t want milk even if you had it. You know that.”

Addy stopped sucking and looked up almost balefully at Mrs. Benedict.

“I’m so, hungry, Mrs. Bene— I mean Sarah. Mommy hasn’t fed me today.”

The woman’s eyes misted up— was it with lust or sympathy? Maybe a little of both.

“You poor darling,” she said. “No need to starve. I think you’ve made me quite ready for you.

Addy’s face lit up. “Oh, thank you, Sarah. May I now? Please?”

“Yes, darling.”

Addy slipped off the couch and knelt on the rug at Mrs. Benedict’s feet. She lowered her head and crawled under the woman’s legs, which were still stretched out, her feet still resting on the wicker chair. Very slightly, Mrs. Benedict widened the gap between her legs. Addy took the cue and poked her head up between the woman’s calves, forcing the legs open even more and exposing much of the woman’s black silk panties. Almost subconsciously, Mrs. Benedict attempted to tug her skirt downward to conceal her panties, but I gently stopped her with my hand.

“Remember, why we’re here.” I reminded her.

“Of course, I’m sorry. I’m a bit nervous.”

“Just remember that, to Addy, this is the most natural thing in the world.”

“I understand.”

I reached over toward her and lifted her skirt higher.

“Is it all right for me to remove these now?” I asked, lightly touching her panties.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, her chest rising and falling sharply as she took a deep breath.

I put my fingers under the waistband of Mrs. Benedict’s panties and slowly pulled them down her legs and over her feet. Addy’s cute little button-nose twitched as she caught the fragrance of the older woman’s pubic area, where the soft brown hair was untrimmed, but still attractive, and looked invitingly moist. I could tell that my daughter’s mouth was watering.

Addy scooted forward so that her head was now positioned squarely between those lovely, tanned thighs, her nose just inches from the juncture between them. Mrs. Benedict’s breath quickened, her chest heaving. She looked at me, then down at the angelic face inching towards that warm, wet place. Addy edged forward slowly and carefully but with her childish eyes betraying her extreme hunger and need for nourishment.

Suddenly, Mrs. Benedict appeared to get fearful.

“Don’t panic,” I said, reacting to the look in her eyes.

“I don’t think I can go through with this.”

“It would be cruel to stop now. Look how needy she is. Please just take pity on her this once. You don’t have to do it again if you don’t want to. But don’t torment her today.”

Addy moved forward and pressed her nose into the bouquet of Mrs, Benedict’s pubic hair and breathed deeply. Then she sneezed.

“Sorry,” giggled Addy, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “You tickle.”

Addy’s sneeze caused the woman to break into a smile and her tension visibly started to ease. “That little sneeze was so charming,” said Mrs. Benedict, now starting to be won over by this slutty, but still childish, little angel.

“Perhaps, I can help relieve the tickling sensation,” I said. Pointing to the hairy mound that was still a bit too dry and stiff to feel comfortable under Addy’s nose, I asked, “May I?”

Though she had no idea of what I was going to do, Mrs. Benedict nodded.

Then I reached over and gently rubbed her moist slit, slowly working the juices into the surrounding hair, making it wet and glistening.

“Come feed, darling,” I crooned to Addy. “The hair won’t tickle so much now that it’s wet. Come feed. Yes, darling. Time to feed.”

“Thank you, Mommy,” said Addy sweetly.

Addy’s head dived toward the woman’s vagina. Her tongue quickly found the wet clitoris and she began to nurse on it, exactly as a tiny infant would nurse from its mother’s breast. Mrs. Benedict drew in her breath and then let out an involuntary gasp as she experienced the frenzied feeding of the ravenous child. The animalistic sounds of Addy’s slurping and grunting filled the room.

The woman looked at me, her eyes glassy, beads of sweat glistening on her forehead. Her mouth moved as though she wanted to say something, but no words would come out.

“Let it out!” I told her. “Just say it.”

“OHHHHHH,” cried mrs. Benedict. “ARGHHHHHH”

“Say what you feel!”

“MMMNHHHH. OHHHHH… FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”

“Yes, Yes. Let it out. The more you curse, the more nourishment your body will excrete for my baby.”

“Your daughter is a cunt-eating slut!”

“Yes, isn’t it delightful?”

“She’s eating my fuck juice like her life depended on it!”

“It does, Sarah, it does. Fuck juice is the sweet honey of life to her. Keep talking!”

Addy suddenly dug her tongue inside the woman’s vaginal walls, her face almost entirely disappearing from view, as she sucked the sweet, cherished honey from the hot, wet cunt.

“Her mouth is sucking every drop of fuck juice from my cunt!”

“She’s going to empty every drop from you. Believe me, I know. She’s ravished me many times.”

“Her little fuck-tongue is just glorious. More glorious than heaven!”

“You need to cum, Sarah, to feed her properly. You need to cum now.”

“Fuck!”

“Yes, Sarah. Feed my baby.”

“Fuck! I’ll feed her! Your baby bitch whore!”

“Yes. A little starving baby bitch that needs your cunt fluids to have lustrous hair, shining eyes, creamy skin, and womanly strength.”

As I spoke I stroked Addy’s blond mane, but she didn’t notice. She was enveloped in her own world where there was only this new mother cunt opening up to her like a fresh, pink rose, yielding its life-sustaining honey to her probing tongue. As that sweet tongue rummaged noisily for drops of the warm honey, Mrs. Benedict began to cry softly and it was clear that these were tears of pure joy. Soon her cries turned into moans.

The woman’s hand reached out to me and I took it, grasping it tightly as her nails dug into the back of my hand. Her whole body began to tremble and I could actually feel the heat radiating from it. As Addy’s tonguing became more insistent, the woman’s strangled moans became louder and louder.

Suddenly, the dam broke and a burst of thick, sweet honey shot from the sopping wet vagina into Addy’s voracious little mouth. Addy alternately slurped, then gulped as she fed on this rich main course. Mrs. Benedict, still clutching my hand and now drawing blood from it with her nails, shouted filthy curses that were so loud, I worried that people in nearby apartments might hear her. But I knew there would be no way of shushing her and there would be no way of pulling Addy away from this orgasmic meal of meals.

The sight and sound of those two, the feeder and the fed, were incredibly obscene and savagely beautiful. Addy’s tiny head worked feverishly at the drooling vagina, and her slurping, gulping, and grunting reminded me of a starving animal feeding on its first meat in a month.

Her intense orgasm slowly subsiding, Mrs. Benedict stopped moaning and began sighing, in a deeply contented way. She broke her grip on me, and ran her fingers through the hair of the precious child who continued to feed at her loins.

“Eat my honey, my little lover,” she said. “I made it especially for you.”

I knew then that Mrs. Benedict was going to be my child’s wet nurse for a very long time.