Aunt MJ's Farm - Day 1 - A Return To My Youth - Sex Stories

Aunt MJ's Farm - Day 1 - A Return To My Youth

... atmosphere in MJ's room shifted from one of discipline to nurturing as the ache of Bella's spanking slowly ebbed away. “Come here, baby,” MJ's voice coaxed gently—a velvet balm soothing over earlier sharpness. Despite the stern punishment, MJ's heart was never far from compassion.

“There now, baby,” MJ murmured, her voice now soft and embracing as she cradled Bella against her bosom. “Let Momma take care of you.”

On the other side of the door, Taylor listened intently, each sound painting a vivid picture in his mind. He could hear the rustle of fabric shifting as MJ rearranged herself on the bed into a more comfortable position.

Bella’s sniffles filled the quiet room as MJ guided her daughter’s head towards her now exposed breast with gentle insistence. “Come on darling, you need this… Just relax and let it out,” she cooed. There was a momentary stillness before he heard Bella latch on with subtle sips that soon grew stronger and rhythmic.

Taylor’s breath caught in his throat, the scene before him dredging up memories he'd long buried. He remembered vividly those rare times of vulnerability when Aunt MJ had offered him comfort at her breast. The deep rumbles of thunder that shook the house when he was seven, leaving him quaking until her calming presence and nourishing warmth had enveloped him.

Then there was the searing pain in his wrist at nine, bones fractured from a careless tumble out of the hayloft, pain that had been eased by the same maternal succor. ...

... And again, when he was thirteen, heartbroken over the loss of his childhood dog; it was MJ's gentle embrace and soothing whispers that had helped dampen his grief as he suckled solemnly.

As a child, he had accepted Aunt MJ's comfort without question, it was just another facet of her boundless care. But now, with years stretching between those distant days and this moment, doubt crept into his mind.

How could she possibly still be lactating after all these years? Nineteen years had passed since Bella came into the world; did she never cease to produce milk? Or had Aunt MJ found some farm secret to induce lactation solely for moments like these?

The mystery deepened the chasm within him, a jumble of childhood trust clashing against an adult's skepticism and curiosity. It gnawed at him: the notion that something so nurturing might be shrouded in secrets he wasn't privy to, an intimate bond that excluded him yet exercised an unfathomable hold over his senses.

MJ sighing brought him back to the present—a deep sound laden with relief—and there was tenderness infusing every word she whispered next: “Good girl… that's right… just like when you were little.” "Yes, just like that… drink up,” encouraged MJ softly, words tender and tranquil restoring balance to the chaos brought from her corrective punishment.

Taylor felt like an intruder to this sacred ritual but found himself unable to move away. Through the barrier of wood between them, he remembered vividly, the comfort ...