Crimson Crossing – Stories in Erotica

Wet Nurse

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It was his idea. He came up to me, stared me down as if a beggar looking at royal buffet through a protective glass and said: “Honey, the debate of wet-nursing becoming increasingly open both here and overseas gave me an idea. I do hope that you are open to my suggestion. I know that in the past you’ve declined the idea but, we can not continue as we have until now. For your sake, for my peace of mind, I plead that you accept.”

He had spoken to everyone; to family members, to friends, to strangers. He nurtured the approach for months before presenting it to me hoping to deliver a convincing speech. I would have thought that the failure for support would have changed his mind but, a stubborn man he stands tall. He still thought the idea was life changing and assure we needed to undertake it.

I asked about his parents response… what his Reverend brother had to say. He chuckled, then broke into a nervous laughter. His family was short of dishonoring him, shunning him if he dare carry it out such evil. Unholy they said. The devil speaking through him, boiling in his veins trying to get out to affect innocent souls. Serves him right. The innocent fool he’s always been. His mother slapped him square in the face. Ha! Worse than he got when he and I met.

I was a call girl. He the happy recipient of a date his classmates had hired. I stopped my profession shortly after meeting him. Found an everyday job and set my life in a more appealing track to his evangelical upbringing. The basic flaw, his know-it-all older sister knew me intimately well. Let’s just say that I am not well liked by his family. Yet, he and I are bound to one another by this thing called love. His family can’t come between us. Even if we all stand on different sides of the fence of this issue of wet nursing.

See, libido flows out of me by the mere sight of a hot body. I have physical experience to lose and still have left over to give out to humanity. I’ve tried to entice him just about everyday since the prom night. Not a kiss that night, not even a little stroking for the virgin boy. And so on has been our lives for quite a while. He catches me late at night pleasing myself; watching the tingling type of movies that would make any other man smack into my cheese like a glass of wine looking for coupling. I sit in the bed soaked in desire, many times short of begging to be pleased. Most for nothing! He lets me down smoothly by stroking my hair, kissing me softly, telling me that soon enough upon our marriage it will happen.

So, my initial reaction when this “wet-nurse” idea first surfaced was to hush it despite the fact that it excited me. On the surface I played it cool, “hush, honey,” I said. “Non-sense!” It was brought up a few more times over the past year. All in passing, of course. I, for his very sake, never accepting it. I just didn’t want to introduce us, him, to a place where he might not have been comfortable.

But, that night something changed. He looked like he wanted me to take part in it just as much as I wanted to do it. He, well, seemed excited by the idea of someone else being balls deep in my mouth. “No more than sucking will you do!” he exclaimed. That was all the soothing he was going to allow. And His approval was required to select a wet nurse. And just one person. No more than one. Just that one until we are joined in matrimony. Then he’d take over the job. I was told I could perform oral however I desired. And, that he was to watch to maintain proper order.

For a few weeks we planned the event. We crafted quite the delightful plan. We agreed on a type of fellow, a place, a time, we thought of it all. We even engaged in innocent fun where I got to stroke him, he got to trace my lips, one time even getting to taste the sweet in me. The planning was exciting. I got to see him engorged, his veins wound around his girth begging for me.

The idea of something other than digits in my mouth was a pleasure. I welcomed being in the position. I didn’t sleep for weeks in anticipation. I wasn’t worried about myself, but was about him. How would he take seeing me at work? How would he react to another man thrusting his hips into my face? Oh, I didn’t care. I wanted the satisfaction I once had and for so long now have missed.

The first day we went out to choose someone one nothing went right. We bickered and argued all day long. He ended up sleeping at his mother’s. I went out with the girls, and drank myself to sleep. The next time it was smooth. We never spoke as to why we argued but, I think he was jealous that his “possession” was going to be possessed. I simply wanted some and I think he knew it.

We picked up a few guys at different places. I flirted with them, and made dates to meet them. A total of four guys we picked that looked healthy enough to give a dose of wet until my marriage. We had a six month screening period where I would meet the fellows, break the news and hope they’d approve. Two never went beyond the first date. They were simply blokes good for nothing but a fine lay. Not what he wanted so, I kindly skipped over them.

After the six months, two candidates were left. They had both met my fiancé and became rather friendly. Even meeting up to watch ball games on Sunday nights. Never did I catch them speak to one another about the arraignment. They were simply guys being guys. The first candidate, I liked him most. He seemed like a closet freak, while the other, he seemed less experienced and was the nicest of both. He took me out on purely friendly dates, while the first insisted on a view of the package he was never going to have. I gave a peek more than once; innocent fun it was all to me. I at least needed a look into the treasure chest with desire of taking it all.

The day we selected the winner it was so much fun. We all gathered at our house late at at time when all the neighbors were asleep. We sat on the couch talked and watch stimulating television. After raising the testosterone and estrogen in the room, it happened. My fiancé hailed, “WET NURSE” and we had them undress to inspect the packages. I was mightily disappointed by the one I liked the most. It would have been best to get a look at him early on not waste six months of thoughts of him in my mouth. The second fellow got both our votes despite him too, being less than I wanted to have. But beggars can’t be choosers, so I’m told… I went close to them, grabbed both in my hand, stroke them a little, asked, “what do you think, honey.” He nodded, I stroke some more then asked them to put their clothes back on and leave; that they would get a call in the morning.

We just couldn’t go through with it that night.

In the morning it was he who called the second fellow who’d we chosen to be our wet nurse. Told him that he would get a call each and every time I wanted some. All he had to do is come over, unzip, release in/on me and resume his day.

I still think of that period in our life. The time when I was nursed for the survival of our relationship. We wouldn’t have made it. I know we wouldn’t have. I am in too much of a need of adult play all of the time to have withstood two more years of solitude. We still see him in town, waving at one another from a distance. He turned out to be more than anticipated. At the end, he acted like my man wasn’t even watching. He’d grab my head and let me have it. Telling me how well I did, how well my mouth felt, how sweet a juice I received to drink… didn’t I agree…

Author: jibarican

https://crimsoncrossing.wordpress.com

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