Daddies Brat

WET NURSE MILF BECOMES A WHORE

My name is Julie, and my husband, Ken, and I were both employed for a young couple. At the time he was twenty-six and I was just turning twenty-four, we were able to afford the down payment on a modest home in the Atlanta suburbs. I met Ken after he graduated from college with a civil engineering degree when I had already been working for two years as a medical technologist.

Everything was going well for us financially until I was twenty-five and took twelve weeks of maternity leave after the birth of our daughter, and my company laid me off permanently. They made up an excuse that they were having a hard time financially, which was partially true, but they also didn’t want to endure the assignment-scheduling hassles caused by my need for restricted travel due to nursing my daughter.

I knew that any other medical technology firm would be reluctant to hire me, so Ken and I discussed the idea of me starting a small childcare business using the spare bedroom in our home. I was at home anyway and breastfeeding our baby, so that made a lot of sense. I took the required training to become licensed, and we bought the cribs and other equipment we needed on Craigslist. We decided to start with five babies, which I knew I could handle, and that would give me a gross income of a little over three thousand dollars a month.

It was easier than we thought it would be to attract clients, some of whom had bad experiences with larger, corporate daycare providers, and they liked the idea of having their babies cared for in a more private setting by a mother with her baby. The husbands and wives usually came together to interview me, and the husbands were especially receptive to using my services.

I don’t mean to brag, but it’s essential to the story to know that I’m a petite and pretty lady, at five feet and three inches tall and weighing one hundred and thirty pounds after getting mostly back into shape postpartum. I have natural, dishwater blonde hair and brown eyes, and almost everyone says that I look a lot like the singer/actress, Jessica Simpson. I’d like her in other ways too, with 34DD breasts that had blossomed to full, round, and wide-rooted 34F melons when I started lactating.

Requested to be a Wet Nurse

It’s not unusual for personal service providers to become friends with and emotionally close to their clients much in the way many people become friends with their hairdressers. I was becoming especially close to three of the mothers, Laura, Kate, and Melissa, and one day Laura brought up an interesting new concept and a way for me to make more money.

Laura picked up her baby a little later than usual one evening, and as we gathered her baby’s things she said, “Julie, it was devasting for me when I learned that I’m not able to breastfeed my baby, and I know that he’s missing out on natural antibodies, vitamins, minerals, fats, and proteins that aren’t provided in artificial formulas. No offense, but when I look at your huge breasts, and knowing that you’re breastfeeding your daughter, I have to wonder if you’d consider being a wet nurse for my baby maybe for at least three feedings a day?”

I’m proud of my breasts and was flattered and amused by her comment. I cupped and lifted my breasts with my hands as I replied, “Wow, Laura, I’ve never given that any thought, but I can see how you’d think I’d have plenty of milk in these big boobs. I also know that breastmilk production increases with demand, so I don’t think it would be a problem physically to feed another baby. You know I’d have to charge you more for that, but let me talk with Ken about it tonight, and we can discuss it more tomorrow.”Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

I did a little online research before Ken got home that night and learned that some women sell their breastmilk for anywhere from one dollar to three dollars an ounce, with an average of two and a half dollars. I assumed that I could sell my milk for even more, giving it straight from my tits, but didn’t think Laura would be able to afford that.

After more research and my experience feeding her son with a bottle, I knew that five-month-old babies like Laura’s son would consume three to four ounces at each feeding. So, being conservative and assuming even ten ounces per day for her son at two dollars per ounce, that would mean I’d be making almost another four hundred and fifty per month. I like

Laura a lot and decided that I’d charge her that much, if I did it at all, even though I knew I could have made more.

Talking it Over with Ken and Becoming a Wet Nurse for Three Babies

We put our daughter to bed before I talked with Ken about it, and after explaining Laura’s request and the research I did, he was very receptive to the idea. He said, “That sounds like a great idea, Julie since it wouldn’t take you much effort to feed another baby. And we can use the extra income. My director at the lab gave us a warning that they may need to cut our hours or even lay some of us off since we might be losing our most lucrative government contract.”

I wanted to be sure, and asked, “Are you sure, honey? You like to suckle me too, and even though I should begin producing more milk, I don’t want to take anything away from you.”

Ken rolled over to me and lifted my nightshirt, to be ready to suckle me, after replying, “I trust that you know enough about lactation to know that you’ll produce more milk, and we need to make a little extra money to get ahead in case I do lose some or all my income. But I think you need to charge a little more, so you’re making at least five hundred a month, especially since you’re providing the milk fresh from your breasts.”

Laura and I talked it over the next day and I was surprised how easily she accepted my price of two and a half dollars per ounce, assuming ten ounces a day. I think she realized that her baby might consume more than ten ounces a day from me anyway. She must have done her homework too and realized it was a more than fair deal for her.

I began breastfeeding her son that day and was amazed at how quickly my volume increased to accommodate him. By the end of the week, I had plenty of milk for my daughter, her son, and my husband at night. My breasts were even bigger then, and I was starting to stretch my 34F-cup bras to the maximum.

We continued that way for the next two weeks until one of the other mothers, Kate, took me aside to talk. She said, “I’ve been talking with Laura and know that you’re breastfeeding her son three times a day here at your daycare. My husband, Ryan, and I made the decision not to breastfeed our daughter because we didn’t want to risk me getting saggy or flattened breasts after I stopped breastfeeding. But since you’re breastfeeding two babies anyway, would you be willing to start breastfeeding my daughter too?”