Milky Milky Davvy
Copyright© 2025 by natnice
Chapter 1
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 1 - David starts by milking his grieving mom's overflowing breasts every day to ease her pain. What begins as innocent help turns into obsession and dominance.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa Incest Mother Son DomSub MaleDom Spanking Lactation
David sits in the back row of Emerson Hall at Westbridge Community College, second-year Psych 201. The lecture hall smells like dry-erase markers and cheap coffee. Professor Ramirez is droning on about attachment theory, slides clicking, but David hears none of it.
His notebook is open, pen motionless.
All he can think about is this morning.
Mom’s milky-white tits in his hands again, heavy, warm, veins faint blue under the skin. The way her long red hair kept falling across one nipple while he sucked the other, how he had to push the silky strands away with his tongue just to latch back on. How she gasped “Davvy ... oh God, Davvy...” when he tugged her nipple between his teeth, just hard enough to make a fresh jet of milk hit the back of his throat. The little pained-moan she gave when he kneaded them like dough, squeezing until milk ran over his knuckles and dripped off his wrists.
He shifts in his seat. His cock is painfully hard against his zipper. He can still taste her—sweet, warm, endless.
The bell rips him out of it. Chairs scrape, bags zip.
Before he can even stand, a hand claps his shoulder.
Ravi (grinning, thick Indian accent): “Yo, zombie boy! You alive in there? You didn’t write a single note, bro.”
Alex (tall, blond, already halfway out the door): “He’s thinking about that redhead from the party again. Bet you twenty bucks.”
They drag David down the hallway toward the cafeteria, both talking over each other.
In the cafeteria line:
Ravi (holding a tray piled with pizza): “Swear to God, Jenna from Bio wore that crop top today on purpose. Nipples were saluting the whole lecture, man.”
Alex (laughing, grabbing a Monster): “You’re blind. It’s clearly Mia now. Saw her bending over the water fountain—ass for days. I’m shooting my shot this weekend.”
Ravi nudges David hard. “Earth to Davvy. Who’s got you zoned out like a crackhead? Spill.”
David forces a smirk, throat dry, tasting phantom milk.
“Just ... didn’t sleep much.”
Alex snorts. “Yeah, ‘cause you were up jerking it to MILF porn again, you freak.”
Ravi cackles. “He likes the experienced ones. Bet he wants a chick with big mommy milkers.”
David’s heart slams once, hard. He almost chokes on his own spit.
He laughs it off too loud, grabs a bottle of water, and prays they don’t notice his hands shaking.
Because they have no fucking idea.
And in exactly five hours he’ll be on his knees again, mouth full of the real thing, Mom screaming his name exactly the way he’s been replaying in his head all day.
Dinner – 8:17 p.m.
The only sounds are forks scraping plates and the low hum of the fridge.
David pushes peas around, not looking up. Inside his head the sentence loops like a broken record:
Mom, we gotta stop doing that stuff in the morning.
Mom, we gotta stop doing that stuff in the morning.
Mom, we gotta—
Sarah (soft, careful): “How was college today, sweetheart?”
David shrugs, still staring at his plate.
Sarah watches him, red hair tucked behind one ear, the neckline of her loose sweater already showing two faint wet patches.
Sarah (trying again): “Anything interesting in Psych?”
David finally looks up. Takes a breath that shakes.
David: “Mom ... we gotta stop doing that stuff in the morning.”
Silence. Fork freezes halfway to Sarah’s mouth.
Sarah (quiet, confused): “What...?”
David closes his eyes, blurts it out fast:
“Really. I won’t nurse your breasts anymore. Yup. There, I’ve said it.”
He keeps his eyes shut like he’s waiting for an explosion.
Sarah lowers her fork slowly. A long beat.
Sarah (small, awkward laugh that doesn’t reach her eyes): “Well ... it can’t be helped, I guess.”
She forces a smile that trembles at the corners.
“I’m sorry, Davvy. I never wanted to put all that on you.”
Her voice cracks on the last word.
She looks down, fingers tightening around her napkin.
Two fresh wet circles bloom bigger on her sweater, spreading fast.
David hears the tiny drip-drip of milk hitting the tablecloth between them.
Neither of them moves.
Next morning – 6:42 a.m.
David wakes up on his own for the first time in weeks.
No soft knock, no gentle “Davvy, baby, it’s time...” Just silence. He lies there for a minute, relieved. Then the guilt hits like a punch.
What if she’s hurting right now?
What if she can’t take it?
What if she’s crying alone?
He pulls on sweats and pads barefoot down the hall. Halfway past the master bedroom the sound stops him cold: muffled, wet, desperate sobbing.
The door is cracked three inches. He nudges it wider, just enough to see. Sarah is on the carpet in her thin nightgown, knees drawn up, red hair a wild mess over her face. Both breast cups of the pump are attached, motor whirring uselessly. Barely a few drops in the bottles.
She’s squeezing her breasts with shaking hands, harder, harder, milk leaking around the flanges, running down her belly, soaking the gown.
Sarah (choked, broken whisper): “Come on ... please ... just a little ... it hurts so much...”
A fresh sob rips out of her. She yanks one shield off and pinches her nipple brutally, trying to force it. A thin spray shoots out, then nothing. She drops her head and cries like someone dying.
David’s chest caves in.
His throat burns.
He stands frozen in the doorway, fists clenched, watching the strongest woman he knows fall apart because he said stop.
The pump clicks off. Only her ragged breathing and the soft drip-drip of milk hitting the floor.
David pushes the door open all the way. David (soft, cracked): “Mom...”
Sarah’s head snaps up. Her eyes are swollen, face streaked, vision swimming. All she sees is a tall blurry shape in the doorway.
Sarah (hoarse, panicked): “Davvy!!”
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