Jon stared at his mom's nipples, noting with fascination the beads of milk that were already forming on each one. His stomach began to rumble.
"I... I'm kind of hungry, mom," he murmured.
Linda glanced at her breasts, startled, as they began to leak in earnest. "Strange. I think you saying you were hungry provoked the let-down reflex." Her milk was dripping on the carpet of Jon's room. "You'd better get over here and take care of this."
Jon didn't need to be told twice. He was beginning to feel strange, almost unnaturally hungry. As wrong as part of him thought it was, his desire to feed was winning out.
In silent unison, they sat on Jon's bed, Linda still topless. "Come here," she whispered, taking his head in her hands. With his face so close to her boobs, he closed his eyes, partly from embarrassment, then from a sense of comfort. The smell, of her milk, and her flesh, made his mouth water.
Instincts, and his mother's touch, brought his mouth to one of her nipples. His eagerness swamping any self-control, Jon latched on, burying his face into her tit. Warm liquid gushed into his mouth, coating the back of his throat as his lips worked like a pump to draw out more milk.
It didn't taste very good, but Jon couldn't pull himself away.
