Best Use for Hypnosis, Version 2

"The Internet experts say if you suck my nipples regularly and make me fell 'wonderfully motherly', I'll begin making milk for you. Maybe I've already made a little for you, so give me a good, long, affectionate suck on each and we'll see, okay? And if that doesn't work, maybe there's a doctor in town who'll give me some milk-maker hormones"

I had almost no clue what to do, but this sounded as if Sally had her mind made up, one way or another.

"You know, Honey? Some women make lots of milk, and then sell it? Some body builders drink it because they claim it helps build muscle. You got any place where more muscle would benefit us?"

Yeah, right! In my used-up condition where Terri had left me, was Sally hinting at something there?

"Suck, Frank. Suck harder. Move my breast around with your lips as you suck. I think that will feel more 'motherly', and I know I'll love it."

With her nipple in my mouth, I could barely look up enough to see Sally's face, but what I did see held a contented smile, so I went at her even more vigorously.

"Oh, Honey, that feels so good! I love it, boy do I! If feeling this good makes milk, then I'll make you milk for breakfast every day. And if it builds muscle in your johnnie, then so be it!"

Just then I heard the faint whish behind me, and felt the slightest movement of air around my back.

"Well, on the dining table, yet," Terri's voice said softly. "How come you never did that with me, Frank?"

How could I answer? My mouth being full of the most wonderful nipple and much of the body of Sally's right breast?

"Feel good, Sally? Got anything in that titty for him to drink?"

"Feels really good, but I don't think I have any milk, yet."

"Well, if it looks as if you can't give him any milk, when he gets tired of sucking your dry tits, he can just slip up a little, kiss you on your sloppy lips and poke your pussy with whatever he's got left of a dick."

Sally chuckled gently, and her breasts moved—very gently, too.

"You two?" Terry said. "You keep it up until you finish. When I finish my shower, I'll come out and get a progress report. Then maybe I'll get a titty suck, too. That sound good, Honey?"

What sounded good was that Terri sounded on-board this addition to our bedroom activities list.

***

Although I tried my best, schedule-wise with Terri as well as Sally, Sally right from the beginning came to making far more milk for me that Terri. What seemed to happen almost automatically for Sally, took concerted effort on Terri's part.

And the worst of it was, Terri took her body's slow performance as evidence she loved me far less that Sally did. I tried my best to countermand this, but without success, so finally Terri visited the College's Doctor and got a prescription for a massive dose of milk-maker hormones. That helped some, but did little for her attitude. Her solution—and I liked better—was to try even harder to fuck me to death.

Now, you remember, I was raised on a farm, right? And most farms in those days, even the nod-dairy farms, kept a cow or two to supply the farmer's family with milk, cream, butter, and sometimes cottage and regular cheeses. So I well knew cows got milked twice a day, on a pretty much fixed schedule.

Human females were a different story, Terri's research discovered. It amounted to, and I liked this idea you better believe, was that for maximum milk production it was tough to overdo the number of times each day a woman's breasts got sucked dry.

Thank god they invented breast pumps, or I'd never have gotten enough sleep. At least with this help, Sally could pump herself while I was nursing from Terri—or vice versa. And no matter whoever did what, the milk always tasted just as wonderful. But all this did require considerable scheduling, and it wasn't uncommon for one or the other to get off schedule—sometimes I suspect on purpose—and when away from home, we had to make do in the back of the used delivery van I ended up buying. Two women, both lactating as heavily as we could promote, 5 to 6 times per day, and trying to attend full loads of college classes?

My hypnosis subjects jumped right on this. Every evening for several months, I got a style show of the latest in nursing bras and breast pumps, which I was compelled to sit through 'til we got to the part I wanted. Their enthusiasm washed right over me; I just sat here with my face buried in one or the other's frontal charms—is that the term?—filling my vision, with one nipple in my mouth and simply reminding myself to keep that breast moving and keep sucking and swallowing. I took that information from watching Dad's nurse calf suck it's nurse cow mother. He knew how to get that female to give forth, and it worked for me, too.

I also received a nightly performance of the 'Choose Me, My Love' talent show my girls put on to interest me in more than a cupful of mother's milk. Thongs had become almost passe—I was sad to say, except that their passing gave way to every sort of corset you might imagine. I don't know how they ever got some of those laced up that tight—perhaps I was lucky I had two, one to do the lacing and one to be the lacee? And those bustier corsets that 'lifted and separated' as their advertizing promised, so those beautiful breasts on display gave the impression of being trophies and awards presented to me for my manhood? Wow!

And heels. It's a wonderful fact that tall women (5-9" and 5-10" for Terri and Sally) not only have long legs, but 'long feet' that can wear really tall heels (like 7 inch that aren't platforms) that make them look, as the bar saying says, their legs reach all the way from their ass to the floor! Yes, the nightly choice was always tough. I'll admit I often took the easiest way out and chose 'both.'

But to be completely honest. I mean, what red -blooded American male wouldn't want to wake up each morning with two women in his bed? Either of which would eagerly accommodate his morning's 'wood'?

***

Who's counting? Well, we were. First Terri, then later on, Sally, too. We never did try counting versions when both women were doing me. It seemed as if most double positions were just rehashes of the one-alones, so why bother? Didn't we have better things to do?

We came up with at least fifty positions one man and one woman could find as ways to make each other happy—that is if you counted all three alternative classes: Vaginal, Oral, and Anal. When you throw in a bed, a kitchen or bathroom counter, a sofa or other chair of some sort, fifty wasn't difficult to come up with. And we tried them all, usually may times, just to assure ourselves they all were feasible. And to cull out some of the marginal ones, there were many we tried, but threw out as not acceptable for our list in the long run.

But I'll admit, as we went along, particularly after we got to State, we settled on a few favorites. I mean, wasn't our time better spent on enjoyment? Or better spent trying to figure out a new version of 69's or missionary, or cowgirl? And overall, anal and oral really don't much surpass vaginal, so why nor just enjoy my women's vaginas instead?

Of course, there are always special days like holidays and special occurrences, like promotions and other personal achievements. Why not do something special for all these? We had a jar filled with slips of paper with position names written thereon. And another jar with the girl's names written on paper slips. I always had a great night every holiday we celebrated, and I'm certain whichever girl whose name got pulled first, had a wonderful, first run that night! I know I certainly did, and then ... again the following morning.

Epilog

As a national radio news commentator used to say, "Here's the rest of the story."

Terri, Sally, and I graduated from the local junior college right on schedule, myself with grades only good enough to get me into the State University's Mechanical Engineering Program on probation. I might say I occasionally got distracted from my studies?

Terri and Sally qualified for State's Physician Assistant Program far above probation. I took a lot of guff about that, but I countered that although my grades didn't measure up to theirs, I should get special consideration because I had in effect taken three majors: Terri Rogers Anatomy, Sally Burgess Anatomy, as well as Pre-Mechanical Engineering. When I advanced this proposal, they said they didn't think that would fly with the University's Admissions Board, but if anyone asked them, they certainly would give whoever asked an earful.

Yeah, I'll bet! If they didn't get me disqualified out of hand!

It took me two semesters longer than they to get through my two years at State, but I made it, and made it quite well. Those two hypnosis subjects of mine got jobs in the meantime at a local hospital, and came away from that with a list of excellent references.

Then we moved back to the town of our junior college, and found jobs in our professions, mine with a local manufacturing firm who needed a engineer who could manage diverse problems on their manufacturing floor, my ladies with a different hospital chain than that they'd worked for while I finished at the U.

After a year, we decided we liked this town and wanted to stay here for good. We bought an older, three bedroom house and in my spare time between bedroom sessions with 'my girls' (from which I had little time off), remodeled the second floor into a huge single-bedroom that kept my two special ladies in the main room with me, and the other bedroom reserved for guests (which doubled as an office) on the first floor.

Socially, I always introduced them by name, and as 'her cousin' when need of description arose. They always introduced me by name, as well. All this went well, except at IRS tax time, when they simply became 'dependents' on our mutual tax return. This was all completely true: They depended upon me for what they needed, and I certainly depended upon them for what I needed.

Surprising, isn't it, what just a slight, hypnosis induced alteration to outlook between people can bring, right? I'm sincerely glad I consented to hypnotize Terri and Sally way back at those fall 'Keggers'. Just think how much different my life would have been without my girls. And what if I'd never read a book on hypnosis and hadn't by accident hypnotized my best highschool buddy and discovered how easy that was?

I might never have discovered women as delightful as Terri and Sally. Likely, I'd never have had the life I have. Never in a gazillion years!