Mmm. Mhmm. You're not alone, that's for sure. It's almost a service to the people to have just wobbling jugs plump for slurpring, and I should know because I grew up around it.
My mommy was the town milk ma'am back in the day. I don't think I appreciated it then, but thinking back, she worked so hard to provide for me and my other two or three brothers.
Each morning, before the butt crack of dawn, she'd heave herself out of bed and put on her milking dress, ya know the kind, where the front just flips down to let a set of mondo chubber boobies hang out. And hey, nothing sexual, but she had the most powerfully plump and impressively enormous tatter tots, mama cha-chas and me and my two or three brothers suckled upon well into adulthood. Everyone did, really, seeing as how she was the town milk ma'am.
Well, she'd get her dress on, and I'd hear her straining to put on her orthopedic boots and tighten her milk ma'am support corset (eventually, I'd have to help her to tighten it as she got older). Then it was down to the kitchen to throat 4, sometimes 12 or 16, sticks of full fat butter to nutritionate her milk. There were a lotta hungry people in that town, and she wanted to give them the best milk she could muster. She'd power squirt a cream stream and fill each of my and my two or three brothers' cereal bowls up, and sometimes she'd give us a suckle for the road, then be off.
She had a route, of course, that took her all through the town and hit everyone when they needed to be hit all the while her massive breasts bounced and sloshed with every heavy step. It was graceful though! Everyone needed her milk and she made the delivery look easy. Hell, I'd say our town was scheduled around my mommy's titties. I went with her plenty of times (again, into old age when I had to wheel her around in a wheeler's chair), and it was just so heartwarming to see everyone so eager to see her.
Greetings were short, and suckling was long. Each man, woman, and child in the town would lock their quivering lips around my mom's bright, domineering nipples and take deep, hard pulls of fresh, piping-hot, delicious breast milk. But no one was greedy! No one was greedy, no. They took their fill and were happy. Everyone in the town needed my mommy's milk, she was the town milk ma'am after all, and it was this collective attitude of "Love Thy Neighbor" that made everything run so smoothly. You don't really see that anymore, do ya?
At the end of the days, long days, necessary days, loving days, she'd come home with her yams half deflated, her nipples red and throbbing, but with a huge smile on her face knowing what good she'd done for the people of our quaint little town. Me and my two or three brothers would ice down and then lotion up her worked over breasts as she laid in her recovery chair with the TV on. Often she'd fall asleep, exhausting as it was to be a milk ma'am, especially for an entire town. We'd watch her chest slowly rise and fall as she tenderly dreamed whatever dreams she dreamed. My two or three brothers always got a kick outta watching her melons ripen back up, plump up nice and juicy with more milk, as she rested. They laughed, sure, and it was a delightful to watch, but I was always filled with a sense of pride watching those boobies swell back up.
She's been retired now for several years, though her tits don't show it. Even at nearly 80 years old, she's still got the juiciest baboingos I have ever seen. Well, haha, maybe I'm just a bit biased because she's my mommy. She was the best milk ma'am this town has ever had. They just don't make 'em like her anymore.
Love ya, mommy.
