i’m not here to make fun of people who have this particular kink. at first, i was amazed that there were so many erotic tales devoted to lactation fetishes, and it was good for a laff, but i am going to try to be respectful here, because no one is getting hurt or exploited and it is all consensual, so i am going to try to do a straight lit-review here. but i might giggle a little. forgive me.
so i have read two of these stories now. Lactate for Teacher by burt maverick is unfortunately not here on goodreads.com, and i lack the motivation right now to add it myself, but i am going to briefly discuss it as a foil to Drink Me, Daddy.
in Lactate for Teacher, a young girl approaches her gym teacher in his office at the end of class:
“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors, about me being pregnant.”
“Yeah, I heard a little something about that.” He’s looking again. I can see how badly he wants to touch my nipple-protruding tits as they stretch the thin fabric of my gym shirt.
“It’s true…well, it was, anyway. I mean, I’m not anymore, but I still have these.” I wiggled my tits, making them sway heavily.
“Oh, oh my word.” He sits down trying to hide his fully erect cock. “Yes, I see. I mean- I don’t see, but, um. I mean, um…what was the question again?”
oh, my word is right… so the implication is that she had herself an abortion, right? there is no mention of a delivery, or a baby anywhere, and if she did in fact carry the baby full-term, her gym teacher would probably have gotten a note or something to excuse her from class, and would have heard more than “a little something,” yeah? so how is she lactating? because if she did indeed have an abortion, and even if her body got ahead of itself a little, somehow, there is no way she had one within the accepted, what is it – first trimester? what is happening here? i do not understand the medical facts this story is presenting.
and then it just gets gross.
i’m sorry, i’m not trying to judge here, but this was just the messiest act of sexual intercourse i have ever heard. you would think her boobs were water hoses for the force and abundance of liquid she is able to shoot out of them. him, too. they are both very…productive. it becomes this soup of fluids going everywhere like a sexual laser show, and ruining all his paperwork. single-celled organisms everywhere are reading this book and thinking – “nope, i’m going to stay away from that, thanks…”
“i’m asexually reproducing right now, how you like that??”
so – yeah – that book – not recommended unless you are unlike me, and can get over the thoughts of “who the hell is going to clean up after that??” this is why porn doesn’t work on me – i am too damn sensible and practical.
Drink Me, Daddy is much more tasteful. within the lactation-porn realm – this isn’t edith wharton. so, it involves a 22-year old new mother and her widowed stepfather. okay – phew, no incest here, and she has been dead for five years, so no intercourse on the coffin. and she is of age. so it shouldn’t be icky, right? well… it is still icky, even if you are unrelated, to keep calling him daddy throughout. that’s just a no in my book. that was inside your mother! it’s not like borrowing a sweater. and come on – that is supposed to be food for your baby. won’t that complicate your future breastfeeding, psychologically?
“I wanted to look sexy for you, daddy. Did I do okay?”
“Yes, sweetheart. You look so sexy. My baby girl is a woman now.”
“You smell so gorgeous, Claire. Like a real woman.”
“I’m every inch a real woman, daddy. But I’ve never been fucked by a real man.”
blarg. blarg. blarg.
i mean, whatever. this book has way more intimacy in it than the other, and more of an attempt at characterization. there seem to be actual humans having relations here, not manga characters. and there is a sort of sweetness here – the characters might actually have feelings for each other. but seriously, you need to drop the “daddy” routine. and go feed your son. also: telling your stepdad, “Jake loves you. I…I love you…” is a cheap ploy. jake is three months old. he doesn’t love anything except your boobs, which you have been treating like a soup kitchen. seriously – he’s starving. make your dad a sandwich or something.
i still don’t get it, myself, as a sexy fun time, but at least i am now aware of some of the range of styles and emotional appeals within this subgenre. for science.