Does it seem that I am breast and nursing obsessed? Judging from my posts, I'm sure you would think so. I haven't bothered to count the times that I have written the words "breast" and "nursing", but if I did, I'm fairly confident the number would be high. In my defense, though, this IS an ANR blog, so it makes perfect sense that my posts focus on boobs, right? When you are in a committed ANR, it is difficult not to be at least SLIGHTLY obsessed (obsessed doesn't seem to be the word that I am looking for, but it will suffice for now) with the lifestyle; after all, a great deal of your time becomes dedicated to nursing another human being, and that is no different than nursing a little one. When my children were breastfeeding, I was a notorious clock watcher, and as the time for their feedings drew near, my mind would immediately remind me: "it's time to feed the baby". That routine became so natural, so instinctive, that clocks and watches no longer became necessary. I simply KNEW when my child was hungry; they didn't need to utter even the tiniest cry.
And that is how it is with S in our ANR. Nursing is a given occurrence. Once we decided to embark upon and re-explore our journey together, he simply KNOWS that I will be available to him at 11:00 each night. He doesn't have to ask to be nursed, and I don't have to remind him that it is time for his feeding. We simply snuggle down, both of us finding the most comfortable of positions, and I offer my breast to him. When he has fed from both sides, we often drift off to sleep, secure in our love for one another.
As we have stayed on our nursing schedule and my body has begun to show very early signs of change, I am much more focused on nursing, much more attuned to my breasts' needs. S is at work right now, but if he were home, I would suggest that he nurse now (and then again tonight) because I am feeling emotional and my breasts "think" they need to be emptied. As enticing as it might be to engage in around the clock nursing, it just isn't practical, so although it may SEEM that the entirety of our marriage revolves around nursing, that could not be further from the truth.
On the surface, we are just an average couple with many obligations; children to raise, bills to pay, gardens to tend, and lawns to mow. S works outside of the home, I work within it. We discuss the children's grades and allowance, politics, current events, and the price of gasoline. We plan vacations, enjoy family game night, and Friday night kid-friendly movies with our offspring. During the day, I am busy with school work, laundry, and toy picking up, managing to fit in a bit of candle making, knitting, and writing here and there. It just so happens that within all of this mundane, there is a time for adult intimacy and bonding in the form of nursing. It is such a natural part of our everyday life; it reminds me of what we have created TOGETHER within the bonds of marriage, and it is thrilling.
Tuesday, March 29, 2016
Monday, March 28, 2016
Nursing the Masculine Man
When connecting with others who are thinking of embarking on an ANR--or are simply curious about it--I have discovered a lot of concern regarding emasculation, a terrible stigma that involves "seeing" your husband as "less of a man" simply because he suckles from the breast. One woman even questioned whether she would be able to see her husband in the same way, particularly since he has taken on the dominant role as "head of the household". I don't question or judge her feelings regarding this stigma, nor do I take offense at her concerns. I do believe, however, if you are experiencing these troubling thoughts, then an ANR is probably not for you.
I am married to an extremely masculine man; as a matter of fact, even S' job fits into the stereotypical "man mold". S is tall and strong, very motivated and career-oriented. He is a wonderful man, a fantastic husband, dedicated father, and excellent provider. In our home, and because of our personal spiritual and religious beliefs, I do consider him the head of our household. I rely on him for so much as my strength, life partner, and helpmate. For me, it seems so natural to allow him to take on that masculine role; when we married almost 15 years ago, I chose to be a stay at home wife and mother, a luxury that S afforded to me. Because of this, I see my role in our home as the caregiver. I cook and prepare brown bag lunches, I clean the house, do the laundry, tend to my flower beds and garden, and homeschool our children. Since it is my role to nurture, and because I take care of his other needs, nursing my husband seems to be a very natural part of our life together. Allowing him to feed from my breasts is just one more thing that I can provide for him, and when he is lying in my arms, our skin touching, our limbs entertained, I view him as a loving man who is enjoying my body in every way that he possibly can.
S is very comfortable with his masculinity; he was raised by good German people, but in a very austere environment where physical affection was not shown. When we first met, he was surprised by my love of hand-holding, back rubbing, hair stroking, and soft stolen kisses. I think he was even more surprised by himself--he soon realized how much he enjoyed my physical attention. We have always had a very affectionate relationship and it has extended to our children. I think his love of nursing began when he first watched me breastfeed our oldest son. He envied the bond, the closeness, and was amazed that I was able to nourish and sustain another human life.
It truly is empowering.
To nurse a masculine man, he must first be comfortable with his own masculinity. An ANR is not about "mommy issues"; it's about the strong bond of intimacy. Perhaps, while nursing, it's the one time that he doesn't HAVE to be strong. He can let his guard down, allow the weight of the world to slip from his shoulders, and relax. There are no bills to pay, no hinges to tighten, no lawns to mow...there is nothing but his wife's skin, her scent, her willingness to love...and THAT is a beautiful thing...and a way for the man to rejuvenate and prepare for the next day when, during normal 9-5 hours, he is expected to be a "man's man". Archaic, perhaps, but a reality.
I have found that many people think of breast milk as "gross". I can't understand how nutrient-enriched milk from a woman's breasts can be viewed as nastier than a jug of homogenized milk pumped from a cow's rubbery udders. It's laughable, really, that someone can easily enjoy a farm animal's milk, but wince at the mete thought of sampling a woman's milk. This may stem from the fact that breasts have become sexually objectified; people don't seem to remember that breasts, although lovely to look at, have always been intended to sustain human life. When my third child was born, I had an abundance of milk; not only did the baby nurse, I was able to express and stock pile my supply. As a matter of fact, I had so much milk that I gave it to my older children in their cups. S even put some in his morning coffee!
S is viewed as very masculine in his work place, which employs an all-male work force, and one of his co-workers recently became the father of a breastfed baby. Shop talk ensued, and S learned that his co-worker is adverse to breast milk; he doesn't mind that baby is fed "from the tap", but he steers clear of it. The fact that his wife is nursing has impeded rather than enhanced their sex life. This talk allowed S the opportunity to offer his opinion on breast milk; he told his co-workers that he loved the taste, that he enjoyed watching our children nurse, and reactions to this varied from curiosity to revulsion; he was teasingly accused of being "freaky" and "kinky". S took the ribbing in stride, even taking the opportunity to defend his opinion on breast milk. The stories, particularly the ones in which his co-workers come to him and broach the subject of "boob juice", make me wonder how many of them really have a secret desire to sample the goods or nurse, but are too insecure to admit it. If this is the case, it's such a shame; the male species should never limit or deny themselves pleasure based on societal stigma or the fear of emasculation. For me, there is nothing sexier than a
man who knows himself, his desires, and indulges in them without fear or shame.
The ANR is a very personal journey, and as comfortable as S and I are with it, it is still a very private part of our married life, one that is not meant to be shared with others. It is much different than adult breastfeeding and role play; for us, it is not a fetish or something that is done merely for pleasure. It is an intimate bonding experience that has brought my husband and I closer. I never thought I could be
more in love with S than I was before, but I am. He is my masculine man.
A revised version of this article appears at www.bountifulfruits.com
I am married to an extremely masculine man; as a matter of fact, even S' job fits into the stereotypical "man mold". S is tall and strong, very motivated and career-oriented. He is a wonderful man, a fantastic husband, dedicated father, and excellent provider. In our home, and because of our personal spiritual and religious beliefs, I do consider him the head of our household. I rely on him for so much as my strength, life partner, and helpmate. For me, it seems so natural to allow him to take on that masculine role; when we married almost 15 years ago, I chose to be a stay at home wife and mother, a luxury that S afforded to me. Because of this, I see my role in our home as the caregiver. I cook and prepare brown bag lunches, I clean the house, do the laundry, tend to my flower beds and garden, and homeschool our children. Since it is my role to nurture, and because I take care of his other needs, nursing my husband seems to be a very natural part of our life together. Allowing him to feed from my breasts is just one more thing that I can provide for him, and when he is lying in my arms, our skin touching, our limbs entertained, I view him as a loving man who is enjoying my body in every way that he possibly can.
S is very comfortable with his masculinity; he was raised by good German people, but in a very austere environment where physical affection was not shown. When we first met, he was surprised by my love of hand-holding, back rubbing, hair stroking, and soft stolen kisses. I think he was even more surprised by himself--he soon realized how much he enjoyed my physical attention. We have always had a very affectionate relationship and it has extended to our children. I think his love of nursing began when he first watched me breastfeed our oldest son. He envied the bond, the closeness, and was amazed that I was able to nourish and sustain another human life.
It truly is empowering.
To nurse a masculine man, he must first be comfortable with his own masculinity. An ANR is not about "mommy issues"; it's about the strong bond of intimacy. Perhaps, while nursing, it's the one time that he doesn't HAVE to be strong. He can let his guard down, allow the weight of the world to slip from his shoulders, and relax. There are no bills to pay, no hinges to tighten, no lawns to mow...there is nothing but his wife's skin, her scent, her willingness to love...and THAT is a beautiful thing...and a way for the man to rejuvenate and prepare for the next day when, during normal 9-5 hours, he is expected to be a "man's man". Archaic, perhaps, but a reality.
I have found that many people think of breast milk as "gross". I can't understand how nutrient-enriched milk from a woman's breasts can be viewed as nastier than a jug of homogenized milk pumped from a cow's rubbery udders. It's laughable, really, that someone can easily enjoy a farm animal's milk, but wince at the mete thought of sampling a woman's milk. This may stem from the fact that breasts have become sexually objectified; people don't seem to remember that breasts, although lovely to look at, have always been intended to sustain human life. When my third child was born, I had an abundance of milk; not only did the baby nurse, I was able to express and stock pile my supply. As a matter of fact, I had so much milk that I gave it to my older children in their cups. S even put some in his morning coffee!
S is viewed as very masculine in his work place, which employs an all-male work force, and one of his co-workers recently became the father of a breastfed baby. Shop talk ensued, and S learned that his co-worker is adverse to breast milk; he doesn't mind that baby is fed "from the tap", but he steers clear of it. The fact that his wife is nursing has impeded rather than enhanced their sex life. This talk allowed S the opportunity to offer his opinion on breast milk; he told his co-workers that he loved the taste, that he enjoyed watching our children nurse, and reactions to this varied from curiosity to revulsion; he was teasingly accused of being "freaky" and "kinky". S took the ribbing in stride, even taking the opportunity to defend his opinion on breast milk. The stories, particularly the ones in which his co-workers come to him and broach the subject of "boob juice", make me wonder how many of them really have a secret desire to sample the goods or nurse, but are too insecure to admit it. If this is the case, it's such a shame; the male species should never limit or deny themselves pleasure based on societal stigma or the fear of emasculation. For me, there is nothing sexier than a
man who knows himself, his desires, and indulges in them without fear or shame.
The ANR is a very personal journey, and as comfortable as S and I are with it, it is still a very private part of our married life, one that is not meant to be shared with others. It is much different than adult breastfeeding and role play; for us, it is not a fetish or something that is done merely for pleasure. It is an intimate bonding experience that has brought my husband and I closer. I never thought I could be
more in love with S than I was before, but I am. He is my masculine man.
A revised version of this article appears at www.bountifulfruits.com
Sunday, March 27, 2016
The Nursing Wife
I wonder why it is, in a society such as ours, when it seems that "anything goes", that a woman's breasts, particularly if used for comfort and nurturing, are taboo? It seems ridiculous to me, and I'll unashamedly admit that I LOVE my boobs! Although I am fairly petite, I was blessed with naturally large (DDD) and extremely sensitive breasts. I developed much earlier than other girls my age, but I always embraced my "bountiful fruits" as a symbol of my femininity; as much as I have always loved my boobs--and their size--I never felt that they were meant for just ANYONE to worship and enjoy. As a matter of fact, I kept them carefully tucked away (well, as much as you can keep a pair of jumbo jugs tucked away) until I met the man who later became my husband. I have found that as much as I love my tatas, HE loves them even more. I like to remind "S", as I will refer to him, that before I came into his life, he was a self-proclaimed butt man. And he will admit that boobs were never really his "thing"--until he saw mine.
My husband is a gracious and generous lover who spends long moments fondling, caressing, kissing, and suckling my breasts. He reaches for them during the day, brushing his fingers against them through my shirt and rests his cheek on them at night. I love the attention, the incredible sensation, and my awareness of my own womanhood soars whenever I am reminded of his love for my breasts. Some of the Mother Earth emotions that I experience while S is dutifully tending to my needs stem from the fact that I am a very nurturing person by nature, and nurturing the man that I love seems as normal and natural to me as nurturing our three children.
Our journey into a loving Adult Nursing Relationship (ANR) was not a planned path, but one that we discovered by chance when I was pregnant with our first child 14 years ago. Neither of us had had children; I had never been pregnant before and he had never been with a pregnant lady before, so both of us were very eager to explore my changing body--and the experience was AMAZING.
I lactated very early in my pregnancy, and began to produce actual milk by the beginning of my fourth month. S was amazed, and when the first glistening drops sprang from my nipples, he practically DEVOURED me! My milk flow continued throughout my entire pregnancy, and S enjoyed suckling and gently squeezing my boobs, drinking what came so freely to him, and I was able to nurse our son without incident from the moment he was born.
As my milk supply increased, S became even more enamored with my breasts. In the evening, after our son had been fed, it became a routine for me to nurse my husband. Not only was it very sensual and loving, it was extremely empowering to know that I could nurture and nourish two beautiful people. S loved the taste of my milk, which was warm and sweet and sugary, and would let it trickle into my mouth as we kissed. Not only did my husband's nursing help to increase my milk supply, it prevented me from suffering from engorgement. Somehow, without saying a word to one another, we began an adult nursing relationship, and it seemed that nothing could be more beautiful or natural.
I was able to wet nurse my husband for a total of six years--throughout three pregnancies and the breastfeeding that ensued. When our youngest child was weaned at the age of two five years ago, our schedules became so hectic as we juggled parenthood, a new mortgage, work, and school, our ANR began to suffer. S and I still enjoyed love making (with plenty of tit play), but he no longer nursed. I missed breastfeeding him AND the baby, but both seemed equipped to move forward without the aid of my boobs, so I didn't pursue the issue.
Until a month ago.
S and I were cuddling together on the sofa, totally relaxed and attuned, and I unbuttoned my blouse and offered him my left breast. Without hesitation, he nuzzled closer and latched on, cupping my breast with his hand as he suckled. It was so wonderful that after he had finished, I fed him my right breast, and he nursed from that side, too.
We didn't indulge in nursing again until last night.
I had had a very stressful day, and as we were lying in bed together, I suggested that he relax and let me nurse him. When he seemed eager, I took off my nightgown, settled back, and nursed him until he fell asleep at my breast. I was eager to discuss reopening our ANR, but it had to wait until the following morning.
I was stunned to find out that S was as eager to discuss our encounter as I was--and I was thrilled to learn that S had been hoping to proceed with our nursing relationship; he'd wanted to for quite a while, but hadn't wanted to bring it up. It was nice to discuss the topic so freely and so openly,
without embarrassment or shame. We chatted about the intimacy and closeness we hoped to gain from our ANR, decided on schedules, considered the option of inducing lactation, and opted for an open nursing relationship--one in which S will be able to nurse freely in the night without asking my permission.
And THIS is how I once again became a nursing wife. I will be feeding S later tonight, and I am eager to share this experience with him once more.
My husband is a gracious and generous lover who spends long moments fondling, caressing, kissing, and suckling my breasts. He reaches for them during the day, brushing his fingers against them through my shirt and rests his cheek on them at night. I love the attention, the incredible sensation, and my awareness of my own womanhood soars whenever I am reminded of his love for my breasts. Some of the Mother Earth emotions that I experience while S is dutifully tending to my needs stem from the fact that I am a very nurturing person by nature, and nurturing the man that I love seems as normal and natural to me as nurturing our three children.
Our journey into a loving Adult Nursing Relationship (ANR) was not a planned path, but one that we discovered by chance when I was pregnant with our first child 14 years ago. Neither of us had had children; I had never been pregnant before and he had never been with a pregnant lady before, so both of us were very eager to explore my changing body--and the experience was AMAZING.
I lactated very early in my pregnancy, and began to produce actual milk by the beginning of my fourth month. S was amazed, and when the first glistening drops sprang from my nipples, he practically DEVOURED me! My milk flow continued throughout my entire pregnancy, and S enjoyed suckling and gently squeezing my boobs, drinking what came so freely to him, and I was able to nurse our son without incident from the moment he was born.
As my milk supply increased, S became even more enamored with my breasts. In the evening, after our son had been fed, it became a routine for me to nurse my husband. Not only was it very sensual and loving, it was extremely empowering to know that I could nurture and nourish two beautiful people. S loved the taste of my milk, which was warm and sweet and sugary, and would let it trickle into my mouth as we kissed. Not only did my husband's nursing help to increase my milk supply, it prevented me from suffering from engorgement. Somehow, without saying a word to one another, we began an adult nursing relationship, and it seemed that nothing could be more beautiful or natural.
I was able to wet nurse my husband for a total of six years--throughout three pregnancies and the breastfeeding that ensued. When our youngest child was weaned at the age of two five years ago, our schedules became so hectic as we juggled parenthood, a new mortgage, work, and school, our ANR began to suffer. S and I still enjoyed love making (with plenty of tit play), but he no longer nursed. I missed breastfeeding him AND the baby, but both seemed equipped to move forward without the aid of my boobs, so I didn't pursue the issue.
Until a month ago.
S and I were cuddling together on the sofa, totally relaxed and attuned, and I unbuttoned my blouse and offered him my left breast. Without hesitation, he nuzzled closer and latched on, cupping my breast with his hand as he suckled. It was so wonderful that after he had finished, I fed him my right breast, and he nursed from that side, too.
We didn't indulge in nursing again until last night.
I had had a very stressful day, and as we were lying in bed together, I suggested that he relax and let me nurse him. When he seemed eager, I took off my nightgown, settled back, and nursed him until he fell asleep at my breast. I was eager to discuss reopening our ANR, but it had to wait until the following morning.
I was stunned to find out that S was as eager to discuss our encounter as I was--and I was thrilled to learn that S had been hoping to proceed with our nursing relationship; he'd wanted to for quite a while, but hadn't wanted to bring it up. It was nice to discuss the topic so freely and so openly,
without embarrassment or shame. We chatted about the intimacy and closeness we hoped to gain from our ANR, decided on schedules, considered the option of inducing lactation, and opted for an open nursing relationship--one in which S will be able to nurse freely in the night without asking my permission.
And THIS is how I once again became a nursing wife. I will be feeding S later tonight, and I am eager to share this experience with him once more.
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