The Island, Chapter 6 - Sex Stories

The Island, Chapter 6

... red capri pants and a striped shirt that accentuated her fine figure. “Yes,” I said. “What can I do for you?” “I ‘ave a problem,” she said in her delightful accent. She glanced at the nearby coaches. “Can we talk en prive’ ? Um…in private?” “Sure,” I said. “Let’s walk down the beach.” I led her past the rocky outcrop that bordered our camp beach and motioned her to sit on fallen palm tree near the edge of the stream. “What’s the problem?” “It is stupid, mais tres uncomfortable ,” she began. “First, you must know I have an unusual métier —profession.” “I thought you were a student.” “ Non , that is what I tell people. It is easier that way. In fact, I am une nourrice . What you call in English a wet nurse.” Really ? I was intrigued. “I have finished my last job in Johannesburg for an English couple,” she continued. “The child is now weaned. I am travelling to Korea for my next job. The client is a wealthy elderly man. It is now quite en vogue for older Asian men to take le lait maternel . They feel it makes them young again. They pay much if they can take it directement from le sein —the breast.” Now I was really wondering where this was going. “Sadly, my suitcase was one that was wet by the sea. My…my…,”she struggled for the word. “My pump will no longer work. Do you know if there is another among the bagage ?” “No,” I told her. “I helped inventory our supplies. No one had a breast pump.” “I must get the milk out of the breast, “ she said with a frown. “It becomes painful.” ...

... “Can’t you express it—um, squeeze it out by hand?” “It is very slow. And the mamelon —the nipple—it gets sore.” “I’m not an OB doctor but the only other way I know is the old-fashioned way.” She looked confused. “Have it sucked out,” I clarified. She nodded seriously and thought for a moment. “ Bon. Alors …” She suddenly pulled off her blouse, revealing her hairy armpits and a well stuffed bra. “Wait!” I said. “I didn’t mean me. I thought…” She unhooked and removed her bra in that most feminine of motions. Her swaying breasts, pale white and tipped with huge dark pink nipples almost an inch long, caught me in their spell. I didn’t know what I thought anymore. I was speechless. She gave me a small smile. “You are the doctor. You must help me. Do not be embarrasse’ . It is what I do. I do not mind. I enjoy it.” She motioned me to lie next to her on the log. I complied, in somewhat of a trance. She pillowed my head in her lap and hefted one dripping udder. I opened my mouth and she slipped her milky mammary between by lips. Instinct took over and I began suckling. A jet of warm, sweet milk bathed my tongue. I had never tasted breast milk before (not counting as a baby), and I found it wonderful. It was thinner and much sweeter than cow’s milk, with a slight musty aftertaste that was intriguing. I pulled harder on the swollen teat, and she sighed in contentment as a gush of white nectar flowed into my mouth. I had skipped breakfast this morning, trying to ration our food, and so ...