>>11321450

She admitted to loving every moment of having her nipples pulled, by greasy fingers or by piercings put into her, begging for release along with her host-daughter. As a single mother who had before been mild before she conceived her daughter, she secretly had wished to experience this beneath her harried, overbearing and mildly controlling demeanor as a mother seeking to look respectable in the eyes of society so her daughter would have a good life.
To her, this pleasure was a forbidden one she could never openly admit to her daughter had she still been a human, a release from her old life of stress.
(Of course, her daughter would answer that she always felt her mother being happier as a boob than as a human, teasingly pinching her nipple.)

Of course, as time passed and her daughter outgrew her days of hedonism (as her own pregnancy swelled), the boob-mother, boobie-brain broken by wild nights of pinching, sucking, fondling, and fucking, recounted a change in her mindset as the days came closer to her daughter's delivery.
Those everyday randy feelings gave way to being motherly once again, and when her twin granddaughters latched on and began suckling, the poor boob-woman was now awkwardly stimulated with each bite and each burst of milk.

She'd spent a lifetime now of being used for getting rocks off (and in turn getting her rocks off being used), and now would struggle reconciling this with her new maternal feelings for her daughter's daughters, a mix of guilt and shame at this association of being relieved with her new responsibility as a pair of breasts. Hard to put into words as it is, it should be clear that the misattribution of arousal from a shift from being her daughter's sexiest assets to a caring source of life for her beloved family messed her up for a good year.

It would be a while before she could reconcile being a sexy tit with being a motherly presence.