Hi, honey! Have a seat, make yourself comfortable. There’s a wet bar over there. Make yourself a drink! We’re going to have a nice woman-to-woman talk here, and it may take a while. It’s a long story.

You’re doing research on women entrepreneurs, right? That’s what my niece Steffi told me. I don’t know if you can use my story, though. My business was, shall we say unconventional? But the statute of limitations has already passed for this stuff, and I really don’t care about my reputation anymore. My needs are taken care of.

They’ve called me a whore and even a whore-monger, but I never saw it that way. I never screwed any of my clients, and my girls never did, either. We just gave them what they wanted, and they paid us for it. If it got them off, fine!

Did Steffi tell you what I did? OK, then, I’ll tell you. I sold my breast milk to people, straight from the tit. By the end, I was servicing three or four clients a day, for damn’ good money for those days. And I acted as an agent for other women who were doing this, giving them referrals and taking a commission. I guess that’s the part that wasn’t strictly legal. But hey, between us girls, you gotta do what you gotta do, right? And back in the sixties and seventies, a girl had to fend for herself, and there weren’t a lot of options, like there are now.

I’ll start at the beginning, in 1968, when I was twenty-four years old. That summer, I became the mother of a beautiful baby girl, and my asshole of a boyfriend disappeared a month later. I mean, he was still around, but I had a hell of a time getting child support, and I was cleaning houses for a living. I had to borrow money from my family just to pay the rent and groceries. Thank God for Mrs. Grabowski, who lived downstairs from me. She’d take care of my little Connie for me while I went to work. I’d just pump some milk before I left for work, and she’d feed it to her while I was gone. She kept saying “Put her on a formula!” but I wasn’t having any of that. Breast milk is the healthiest milk for children, and my Connie was going to get the best. At that point, that was pretty much all I could do for her, because I was just barely making ends meet.

And, to tell you the truth, I was getting off on it! I enjoyed the feeling of milk getting sucked out of my breasts. It wasn’t exactly sexual stimulation, but it was close, and it was about the only kind of stimulation I was getting at all.

That whole situation changed a few months later, though. I was at the court house one morning, trying to get a judgment for child support, and I had Connie with me. A lady lawyer had kindly let me use her office so I could nurse my baby. You couldn’t breast-feed in public in those days, you know. Anyway, I was there with my tit out and Connie sucking away when the door opened, and this middle-aged guy walked in. He saw what I was doing, made some apology, and left.

But as I was leaving the courthouse, he walked up to me and said, “Lady, can I have a few minutes of your time? I can pay you.”

“What for?” I asked.

“I’ll give you twenty dollars if you let me drink your milk from your breast.”

“You’ll what?” I was dumbfounded.

“I’ll pay you to nurse me. Please?”

I thought furiously. What kind of pervert was this, anyway? But twenty dollars is twenty dollars, and you could buy a lot for twenty dollars back then ... a week’s groceries, plus bus fare. I’d guess that twenty dollars back then was worth way over a hundred dollars today.

“I don’t know if I can right now. The baby took a lot of it.”

“That’s all right. Just come to my office this afternoon, when you’re ready.” And he gave me his card. He was a lawyer, too, and had his office about a block away from the court house.

Well, anyway, I went home and had some lunch. At about four in the afternoon, I gave the baby to Mrs. Grabowski and went back downtown alone, and I found his office. He told his secretary that I was a client that he’d acquired that morning and ushered me into his office. I unbuttoned my blouse and flipped down the flaps on my nursing bra. My breasts had refilled by then, and my nipples, already getting darker, fatter, and longer from breastfeeding, were already starting to leak a little. He bent down, took one into his mouth, and sucked for a while. “Not too much,” I said. “I need to feed the baby, too.”

“No problem,” he said. “Your nipples are beautiful! They’re so much fatter than my wife’s!” Then he switched to the other breast and suckled on that some. It was the strangest thing. I’d had men suck my tits before and, frankly, it was always a big turn-on for me, but now it was almost ... clinical, I guess. This was just business. But I found myself getting aroused, just the same. Something was stirring, and I began to tremble, but in his own need, he didn’t notice.

I made some noise about the session being finished, and he stopped sucking. Then he opened his wallet and gave me a crisp, new twenty-dollar bill. “Can you come back next Monday?” he asked.

“OK,” I said. And that was how it all got started. I saw him every other weekday, more or less ... about fifty dollars a week on the average. And then he said that he had a friend who wanted the same thing from me. I took the friend as a “client” too, and suddenly I had a hundred dollars a week, for what amounted to about five hours of work. Not bad! And I still had time to do my house cleaning job which, frankly, brought in a lot less. I was lucky to get three bucks an hour there. That was when I decided to make a career out of being a wet-nurse for rich perverts.

I learned that the lawyer’s wife had just weaned her baby and stopped nursing, but not before her husband had developed a taste for breast milk. Same for his friend. That was typical of the clients I had over the next twenty years. I can’t blame the mothers for letting their milk go dry, though. Producing milk can be a pain in the ass ... you’re leaking, your milk lets down whenever you hear a baby cry, you have to keep getting rid of the excess so your tits don’t hurt. But I figured that I was doing their marriages a real favor, and the money was too good to pass up.

In fact, the money got better. After a year, I was ready to wean Connie and I faced a real crisis. Should I give up my services and try to find a real job? Or should I just keep providing my clients with milk? In fact, I could take on two or three clients a day now if I didn’t have to feed the kid. Well, dearie, back then there wasn’t a lot of good-paying work for single moms. I mean, today it’s rough, but fifty years ago it was rougher. I had no options, really. So I kept my milk going. In fact, I was able to satisfy up to four customers a day, if they weren’t greedy and I timed it right. They were paying me between three and four hundred a week, and there’s no way I could have made that kind of money doing anything else except maybe prostitution, and I didn’t want to take those risks.

I had all kinds of clients, and saw all of them in their offices. When I went to ad agencies or art galleries, I carried a fake “portfolio” with me and people assumed I was buying or selling artwork. I’d go to professionals like doctors or psychologists or lawyers or accountants, and it would look just like your usual treatments and consultations. One of my clients was a car salesman, and I’d go “shopping” for cars. He’d find a van, or a big car with tinted windows, and we’d take it out for a “test drive” to the nearest shopping mall and I’d service him right there in the parking lot.

I even had a few ministers and priests! They’d take me into their office for “private counseling” and I knew that we wouldn’t be bothered. And, you know, I don’t think that either of us thought we were sinning. God made my tits to make milk, and God made their mouths to suck it from me. I never let them go farther than just nursing, and they appreciated that. In their own weird way, they figured that I was keeping them from sin! The celibate priests were the ones who were really grateful, since I was giving them something they’d never get from a wife.

And, once in a blue moon, I’d have a woman as a client. I never judged, I just let them suckle and collected their money. I remember one lady, a fashion designer, who’d unbuttoned her blouse ... she didn’t have a bra on underneath ... and exposed her own grapefruit-sized breasts to me. She had the prettiest pink nipples, and they were already hard. She asked me to suck on them after I’d nursed her. “It’ll cost extra,” I told her. She nodded and gave me an extra twenty, and orgasmed when I sucked on her tits. I saw her once a week for a couple of months, but then she stopped calling. I guess she just wanted to experiment, find out who she was and what turned her on. Nothing wrong with that!

Another thing I did along about that time was change the way I dressed. In the summer, I wore a light blouse, and in the winter a sweater, but all I had underneath was my nursing bra. I’d lay the client on the couch and strip them off, leaving my tits bare but leaving my slacks and panties on. Then I’d dangle my breasts over his mouth and let the client watch them bobble and sway, and even let him touch and caress them. Then I’d express a little milk into the customer’s open mouth, letting him see my milk streaming from the nipple, before I let him latch on for some serious sucking. They must have liked what they saw, because I got a lot of extra tips that way.

And, I gotta tell you, I enjoyed it, too. After a while, my nipples became so fat and sensitive that I couldn’t help from climaxing nearly every time. It was such a turn on for me to see the men looking at my tits so adoringly, and so grateful for what they were getting. I was making an erotic connection that they never would have gotten with just any whore, and I guess that some of that eroticism rubbed off on me, too.

The more sessions I had, the more sensitive my nipples got. Believe me, honey, when you’re getting three or four orgasms a day, you kind of get addicted to it! I started carrying a couple extra pairs of panties in my purse, because I often had to change them after a session. They say that hookers almost never climax, and they have to fake it to please their johns, but for me it was just the opposite! I was cumming like mad, but could I show it? At first, I tried to hide it. I had it in my head that if they saw how much I liked it, they wouldn’t pay me as much. But after a while, I said “To hell with that!” and let them see me climaxing. And my tips went up! Not only that, but some of them would buy my dirty panties for an extra twenty bucks, and keep them in a drawer where they could smell them anytime.

There was plenty of work for me. As the news of my services went around, I found myself with more clients than I could handle. So I started another line of work, where I found single moms who were breast-feeding and needed quick cash, just like I did when I was starting out. It wasn’t hard to find them, really. I’d go to the courthouse and look for the kind of girl that was in the same predicament I was when I started ... new baby, absent father, no job, no skills. When I saw a likely prospect, I’d go over to her, make my pitch, and give her a card. The card had my name, the telephone number of my answering service, and the words “Women’s Health Consultant.” They’d almost always turn me down, but they’d keep the card.

I’d say that one out of ten would call me back later, and I’d really start selling them on it ... how they could make money, and not get pregnant, and even get a nice orgasm once in a while! And half of those women would end up working for me. I’d give them the referral, and they’d give me ten percent of what they made. Because it was a women-only business, we kept it quiet and trusted each other. They knew I could relate to them because I had gone through the same thing they were going through, and they knew that I wouldn’t judge them. We were like sisters, really. Sometimes, I would nurse their babies while they were out servicing clients, and they really appreciated that! And it was nice to have a baby at my breast again once in a while.

It wasn’t all just single mothers, either. I had quite a few women who were happily married, but their husbands weren’t into breast milk, and their kids weren’t draining enough milk from their breasts. I didn’t solicit them, but they’d heard about my agency from their girlfriends and came to me. Of course, once their kids were weaned, they wouldn’t use my services anymore, because their husbands would get suspicious when they kept producing milk. But they were glad to get the extra money when they could.

I did caution them about not believing that old myth about how you can’t get pregnant again when you’re breast-feeding. Honey, it just ain’t true. If you don’t believe me, I’ve got a dozen of my girls you could talk to about that! They found out the hard way, and they usually ended up working for me a bit longer than they’d planned to!

And I told them that what they were doing wasn’t strictly illegal, as long as they kept their clothes on and didn’t actively stimulate their clients. They were doing what any wet nurse would do. You know, one of my clients told me that Henry Ford, that auto guy, used to hire women to breast-feed him when he was an old man.

So I had that other income stream going. And I was helping them, too. Otherwise, they might have gone into prostitution and had to deal with pimps and johns, and risk getting busted. I ran a clean, tight ship. I learned something in those years, that women can’t count on men for that kind of support. We’ve got to take care of our own, like that lady lawyer who let me nurse in her office that first day. A man probably wouldn’t have let me do that; a lot of men don’t understand that when you’ve got to nurse, you’ve got to nurse, you can’t put it off. But women understand, and we look out after each other.