“That’s it!” said Lo as she stomped her way out the door, champagne flute in hand.

“Lo,” I called after her, turning around to the other guests and the host and shrugging my shoulders apologetically before I ran to catch up to her.

“Go back, if you want.  I’m leaving.”

“No,” I said, “I’m with you.”

She got in the car and started up the engine.  I barely had time to hop in the passenger seat before she put it in reverse and angrily drove out of the driveway.

“Hey!” I said, “Take it easy.  I know you’re upset, but you don’t have to kill us both to prove a point.”

“I won’t kill anyone,” she said as she hit the accelerator and drove away from the house.  “I’m just so sick of it and that was the last straw.”

“Technically, it was a nipple and not a straw,” I said, trying to make her laugh.

“It would have been better if it was a straw and a glass of milk.”

Allow me to put this opening into a greater context for you.  As you know, there’s almost a three decade age difference between Lo and me.  That makes for a lot of mutual friends at various stages in their lives.  We happen to know a number of women right now who have given birth in the past one or two years and are currently breastfeeding.  We know this very well because so many of them, for unknown reasons, like to send to Lo photos of them giving suck to their little-ones.

One or two photos can be cute, I suppose.  But they seem obsessed with putting out there just how hucow they are and just how much they enjoy it!

This particular night, we were invited to a party hosted by one of our friends.  It was a family-friendly party.  There were a lot of couples, kids, infants, etc.  Everything was going along fine until Lola and I were standing in the kitchen, just making small-talk with a circle of about five or six when suddenly one of the young boys who had been running around chasing his friend or something, came running up to his mother.  She’s not one of our close friends.  She’s an acquaintance.  A friend-of-a-friend.  She also happens to be one of these “tradwife” or “tradmom” types who got married young, has no interest in a career or “working,” and began having kids immediately.  She has four.  Or is it five?  In any case, this particular child of hers couldn’t have been much younger than seven or eight years old.

Can I even tell you what he did?  I’m just reporting.  Keep that in mind.  He reached his mother, put his arms around her waist and then slid them up her shirt.  He pulled her shirt out so that he could look up and see her tits.  I had noticed she wasn’t wearing a bra.  She was just wearing a tight-fitting white t-shirt.  Her nipples were very prominent.  Then the kid reaches up to her tits and grabbed them!  Yes, grabbed them.  Right there in front of us all.  The mom laughed and tried to make light of it, but couldn’t get the boy to stop.  Because she was laughing, he thought they were playing and he continued even more, unaware of the social queues.

“Mommy!” he said, opening his mouth.

Finally, she gave in.  She lifted her shirt enough for him to put his mouth on her nipple and begin sucking.

“I don’t believe in any arbitrary age to stop breastfeeding,” she said by way of excuse.

The boy was wearing blue shorts and as he was sucking, he reached up with his right hand and grabbed her other breast over her shirt and I noticed he got an erection!  And I wasn’t the only one to notice –  we all did.

The mom, becoming aware of our horror-stricken faces, laughed again and said, “Isn’t it cute?  He gets excited when he suckles.”

“When he suckles!” I thought.  What the hell is this, biblical times???

That’s when Lola called it quits and walked out of the party.

I can’t really blame her.

But when we got home and got into bed, need I tell you she lifted up her shirt and said, “I bet you want to suckle, don’t you?”

I took suck and, believe me, I too was hard as a rock.  She reached down, grabbed my stiff rod and began stroking it.  “Isn’t it cute,” she said, mockingly.

Mockingly or not, I could care less.  She stroked as I sucked and she came just from the nipple stimulation as a torrent of hot white cum spewed out of my member.

“Better?” she asked.

“Much.  You?”

“I need more.”  Isn’t that her constant state?

I was done for the night, but she grabbed her phone and, like a beacon cutting through the darkness, scrolled through a number of the photos from her friends of them breastfeeding.  She stroked her pussy with her free hand until she dropped the phone convulsing, causing the bed to vibrate with her.

“You’re bad,” I whispered to her.

“I didn’t solicit these photos.”

“You want to give suck, don’t you?”

“I’m try-sexual – I’ll try anything.”

“Maybe you can get yourself invited to one of the mommy-only parties and try each one of your friends to see whose milk is sweetest.”

She didn’t answer.  I guess the mere suggestion sent her mind into a flurry of fap fantasies, for she began flicking her bean once more.  It took a long time without her visuals, but eventually I sensed her coaxing that second orgasm out into the world.

Were there more?  I don’t know, but I will update you on Lo’s efforts to be invited to a lactation lunch with her friends.

[Below you’ll find some appropriate photos. Not saying which were received by Lo from our friends.]