u/treeoflifeormilk

I am very excited to share with you guys my very first ABF/ANR erotic story. It is a work of fiction. I have wrote chapters 1 through 2. Currently I have posted the story on AO3. Under the same title “Raspberry & Forest Green”.

**IMPORTANT NOTE: I have wrote this story Word for Word line by line idea by idea, plot by plot - to be clear. It has taken me hours. And I’m proud of it - like any other writer that uses Microsoft Word, Grammarly , or the “dreaded” AI - I have used these tools for the sole purpose of checking for spelling and grammar. I firmly believe that if AI wrote it, then YOU did not ,and that is my own personal opinion some of you may disagree and that is fine, but just know that a piece written by me, was created BY ME..**

Now that we have gotten that out of the way
Please I hope you enjoy this piece as much as I enjoyed writing it. :) Follow or bookmark it on A03 , if you would like to be updated when I post Chapter 3 - it will be a series!

**Chapter I : Secrets**
**Weighing Me Down**

The rattle of the Manhattan-bound train vibrated through my boots, but it was the dull, heavy ache in my chest that had me gripping the metal pole. Today was the anniversary of the plane crash that took Lacey’s parents. For two years, I had been her anchor, just like she had been mine since our sandbox
days. We were sisters by choice, the kind who knew every scar, every ex, and every secret. Or at least, we used to. My phone buzzed in my palm, the screen flashing “Lacey Baby <3”. I swallowed hard, a sudden wave of guilt competing with the throbbing underneath my shirt.
"Yes?" I answered, trying to sound
normal over the screech of the subway
brakes.

"Mags, what are you doing?" Her voice
sounded smaller than usual, heavy with
the weight of the day.

"On my way home from the Asian
market," I said, leaning my head against
the cool glass of the window.

"This rush hour crowd is going to be the death of
me."

"Come over and hang with me," she
whispered. "I would really appreciate
the company."

"Of course. How are you feeling?"

"I will talk more about it when you get here. I just want to drink, get some Chinese, and have a best friend snuggle,
to be honest."

"You got it," I said instantly. "Let me just run home, grab the whiskey, throw on some pajamas, and—"

"Can you come straight over?" Lacey interrupted. "I have clothes here for you. Extra everything. More than enough liquor. I will just order delivery now."

I paused, my heart doing a nervous flutter. "Yeah. Yeah, I will be there in fifteen. I am only two stops away anyway. See you shortly."

"Thank you. Love you, Mags."

"Love you too."
I hung up, a cold sweat breaking out on the back of my neck. I
did not have an overnight bag, which meant I did not have my pump. For the past three and a half months, I had been quietly inducing lactation, pumping nine times a day and taking
strict daily supplements. Now, I was heading into a locked room with awoman who noticed everything. Lacey was a stunning, five-foot-four Latina blessed with the kind of curves people pay for, while I was a lanky five-foot-eleven. We looked completely different, but mentally, we read each
other like open books. Going over to her place and slipping away to the bathroom every ninety minutes to hand-express was going to look suspicious. By the time the intercom announced my stop, the sheer anxiety of avoiding the conversation had me dizzy. Though I told Lacey everything, I had not shared this. She knew I never wanted children of my own, but she did not know about the deeper curiosity driving me. I wanted to see what my body was capable of, to explore
surrogacy, and to see if I could induce lactation. A month ago, the milk finally came in. The train intercom barked my stop.
Moving on autopilot, I navigated the platform until I stood before her door. Before I could even knock, Lacey whipped the door open, wearing her favorite lemon-print pajama set. She pulled me into a warm, raspberry-scented hug, squeezing so tightly a groan escaped my throat.

"My God, you are going to break me," I
laughed, though a sharp throb rippled
through my chest.

"Sorry," she pulled back, her eyes
welling with tears. "I am just so happy
you are here today. Thank you, Mags."

"No need to thank me. You know I love
you."

As she turned, a wave of fullness and heat radiated through my breasts. Fuck. I needed to express, fast. Resisting the urge to cross my arms and press against the ache, I put on a bright smile.

"So, I am kind of gross from the train and need to use the restroom. Do you mind ordering food? I am starving."

"Yes! Chinese?"

"My usual, please. I will Venmo you in a bit."

"You got it, girl."

I hastily excused myself, locking the bathroom door and running the faucet to mask any noise. Unbuttoning my
shirt and unhooking my nursing bra, I tried to massage the left side, desperate for a letdown. But without the pump, my
rhythm was off. A sharp knock made me jump.

"All good in there, Mags?" Lacey called
out.

"Yes! Almost done!" I panicked, glancing at the sink. Barely anything had come out. My left side was a rock, and the
right was catching up. Realizing I was fighting a losing battle, I abandoned the attempt, wiped down the counter, and
forced myself to walk back out.Lacey was tucked under her favorite lavender blanket, scrolling through TikTok. I climbed in beside her, resting my head on her shoulder. From the corner of my eye, I caught her looking at me oddly - perhaps noticing how rigidly I was holding my shoulders - but neither
of us said anything. When the food arrived, we spent the
hour eating and watching Friends. By the middle of the second episode, the pressure underneath my shirt was
agonizing. Twice, I caught myself rubbing at my chest to ease the tightness. Both times, Lacey caught me. A hot blush crept up my neck, and I looked away, praying she would not press the issue.

"Time for the next phase," Lacey
announced once the containers were
cleared. She pointed toward the stairs.
"You go shower, and I will bring the
bottles up to the bedroom. Let's take
some shots and completely decompress.
It is Friday, and honestly, I need it."

Looking at her, knowing the heavy grief
she was carrying for her parents, I
nodded. "Alright, I am game."

Upstairs, Lacey lined up four shot
glasses, pouring a heavy splash of Jack
Daniels for me and vodka for herself.
"Ready, Mags?"

We stepped close for the ritual we had practiced for years, pinkies interlocked, stepping chest to chest. I braced myself, a silent wince catching in my throat as our bodies brushed. On three, we leaned in, kissed each other's cheeks, threw the
liquor back, and chased it. The warmth of the whiskey hit my
stomach, but it was not enough to drown out the pain. "I will be fast," I murmured, ducking into her bathroom. The stone interior was warm, and sitting on the counter was an oversized
Syracuse University T-shirt, a toothbrush, and my favorite perfume. Tears pricked my eyes. Even in the depths of her own grief, Lacey remembered that I loved sleeping in nothing but a soft tee and bed perfume. She saw me. Stepping into the shower, the hot water running over my breasts brought heavenly relief. Under the stream, the hand-expression finally worked. White streams mixed with the soapy water, and
the intense pressure in my left side eased. I lost track of time, zoning out until the water turned lukewarm, then freezing
cold. Shivering, I shut the valve off. I had not even started on the right side yet, and the sudden chill contracted the tissue,
bringing the ache back. Standing on the bathmat in the Syracuse shirt, I tried to express into the sink, but the cold made it impossible. The frustration and exhaustion finally
broke through. Tears spilled over my lashes, and I wiped them away, staring at my reflection. How was I going towalk back into that bedroom without breaking down? I gave myself one last look, gave my breast one last earnest
rub, and stepped out.

“Ready for your fourth shot?” Lacey
exclaimed, sounding a little tipsy.

I laughed, dizzy and distracted. “Why
not?” I approached her, but since we
were both lightweights, I tripped on my
own feet. I fell on top of her on the bed
just as she was trying to get up to pour
more liquor. “Ow! Jeez, fuck!” I squeaked, clutching
my chest.

“Huh? What was that?”

“Oh, nothing—get those shots ready,
girl!”

“Alright.” I could tell Lacey did not believe me, but she rolled off, got up,and began pouring. I prayed to every god I could think of that my boobs would not fall off before breakfast.

“Shots ready!” Lacey proclaimed. She grabbed my hand, pulled me off the bed, and we repeated our routine. As I recovered from the burn of the liquor, Lacey surprised me. She kept her grip on my hand and pulled me closer, until our foreheads were centimeters apart. I hadnever been this close to her. I think the grief and the liquor made her need extra comfort; she had been much more touchy-feely than usual tonight.

“You know, I really appreciate you being here,” she said softly. “I have nobody else, and every year of my life, you are
the person I have been able to count on. I feel empty in general, but because of you, I feel less empty than I ever would
on my own. I just wanted to let you know that I love you, Mags.”

I looked down, feeling shy at such a sweet compliment. Our proximity was not helping, either. I had a sudden, overwhelming urge to express my love in any way possible. I would just blame it on the liquor.

“Of course, Lace. Anything for you, forever and always. You know that.”
For a second, there was silence. I became aware that I was no longer holding her hand. I must have pulled away, and I only noticed because she grabbed it again. I looked down at our
joined hands, then back up at her face.

“Do you want to watch a movie? I am actually a little tired. It is already 10:34PM, and it has been a long day. Let’s turn in early, what do you think?”

I thought to myself: No chance,
considering my breasts are rock hard.
But if she was tired, she could sleep.
“Honestly? Not a bad idea.”

That was all she needed to hear. She dragged me to the bed, we climbed in, and she shut off the lights. Usually, I lay on my back and she rests on my chest, snuggling into the nape of my neck or resting her head on my breast, but I was nervous. Lacey is a snuggler, and while I love our closeness, I was wide awake and aching.At this point, I was silently crying. I thought about slipping out to the bathroom, but whenever I shifted, she
shifted too, letting out a little moan. It would have been sweet if I were not in agony. I tried not to whimper, but the deep, pulsing pain made me feel sick. Through the pain, I eventually dozed off.

“Mags! Mags!”

I woke to Lacey’s frantic voice. I creaked my eyes open; the nightstand light was on.

“What?” I managed to say, exhausted.

“Mags, are you okay?!”

“Lacey, why wouldn’t I be?” A hint of irritability colored my voice. I grabbed the nearest pillow to block out the light,
but as it touched my face, I realized it was wet.

“Mags, wake up. You are all wet. Your shirt is soaked. Are you hot? It does not smell like sweat—it smells like…powder? And I
got a little in my mouth; it tastes sweet.” She sounded thoroughly confused. My eyes shot open. I sat up and looked
down. She was right. I had leaked through my shirt, and it was soaked in breast milk. I looked up at her, and she was staring at me expectantly. I knew now was the time.

“I—uh—I…” I covered my face in embarrassment. “Lacey, I need to tell you something.”

I felt her body shift as she sat up to give me her full attention. For the next twenty minutes, I shared everything: the curiosities of motherhood and womanhood, the surrogacy, the induced lactation, and the challenging last eight
hours.

**Chapter II: Amber**
**Light**

We sat on her bed, both of us drenched. My arms were wrapped around my knees as I fidgeted. I stared down at the soaked sheets, miserable. Despite the mess, my breasts were still agonizingly engorged. Lacey sat beside me, lost in thought. Was she disgusted? I had ruined her bedding and, quite literally, fed her milk without meaning to. The silence stretched for several minutes before she suddenly reached out and grabbed my restless hands.

“Are you still in pain?” she asked.

I looked at her, confused. “W-what?”

“Are your breasts still hurting? Are
they still causing you pain?”

My blush deepened. I slowly pulled my hands away and carefully peeled off my wet T-shirt. I winced as the fabric brushed against my sensitive nipples. I laid the shirt aside, unable to meet her gaze now that I was completely naked. We had seen each other naked many times, but not under such circumstances, and certainly not since my breasts had grown two cup sizes and my nipples were so much longer. Lacey leaned in, her eyes widening. My breasts were tight, veiny, and purple.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“My goodness, Mags,” she murmured, her voice breathless.

“Your nipples are beautiful. And so much bigger than the last time I saw them.” Lacey paused, then reached out to
gently graze my right nipple. A tiny bead of milk escaped, and I winced. She shifted her hand from my breast to my face, lifting my chin until I had no choice but to meet her eyes.

“Can I help you?”

I searched her expression. “I do not understand. How? I tried
hand-expressing, and it did not work.”

“Not hand-expressing. I mean, I could suckle the milk out for you. Maybe that will give you some relief. I really want to help—it looks incredibly painful.”

My head was spinning, but the physical relief was all I could think about. “Yes. Yes, please.” I was nearly in tears, staring into her eyes with gratitude. A stray tear tracked
down my cheek. A small, tender smile formed on her face. She used a finger to wipe the tear away. “Okay, love. This bed is a
little .. uh - damp. Let’s move to the guest room, okay?”

“Okay,” I managed. She led me
toward the door, but I stopped her.

“Lace, to be quite frank, my nerves are through the roof. Do you mind if I take a couple more shots?”

She laughed softly. “Honestly, I think
two more will do us both some
good.” She poured the drinks, and we did not skip our routine. It felt grounding, a small, familiar ritual in the midst of everything changing. Once we finished, she took my hand, and we walked down the hall to the guest room. In the guest room, the king-sized bed was buried under a thick, forest-green Sherpa comforter. I stood frozen, staring at the mattress, until she touched the small of my back, snapping me back to reality.

“How would you like to do this?” she asked, sounding unsure.

“I do not know. I have never had someone suckle from me before,” I whispered.

“Mags, please do not be shy. There is nothing to be ashamed of. To be honest, I want to help you, but seeing you like this breasts full and needy—is turning me on. You look
beautiful.”

I tensed, then relaxed, truly shocked.
“You are just trying to make me feel better.”

“If I make you feel better, that is wonderful, but I am dead serious. Our sisterhood is special to me. Being able to nurse from you is an honor; I think it will only bring us closer.” She giggled softly. “And I did not say your milk tasted bad earlier.”

Heat rushed to my neck and cheeks. I could not bring myself to turn around, so I just managed a shaky nod. I climbed in, moving to the side closest to the wall. I propped myself up with pillows, pulling the sheets down to expose my breasts. Lacey
stood by the bed for a moment, admiring me and licking her lips. She killed the main light and clicked on the nightstand lamp, bathing our skin in amber and highlighting the beads of milk clinging to my nipples. She climbed in and scooted as close as possible. ”Okay, now what?”

“Lay horizontal—like uh a baby would—on my lap, and I will help you latch, honey.” Lacey eagerly moved into position. I
cradled her head. She chose the right breast first. Though I had never breastfed anyone, I had done my research, and knew how to guide her.

“Okay, you are in position. The trick is to get a deep latch. Open your mouth wide, love, and once you have it, just suckle away. Do what feels right. I am here to support you.”

Lacey did not wait. She latched on herself with an eager, hungry intensity. She suckled fiercely for the first two minutes.

“Slow down, Lace. It is coming, just relax.” Seeing her so eager made the hair on my neck stand up. I ran my hands through her long, black hair to soothe her. She slowed only for a moment. Then, I felt it—a deep, surging moan escaped me as my let-down kicked in. She started suckling faster, hungrier. Her eyes
fluttered shut in pure bliss; a little milk escaped the corner of her mouth, and her sporadic, sweet coos made my pulse race.
I was embarrassed to realize I was squirming. My pussy was
contracting, and the way Lacey stimulated my nipple was arousing me to the point of being soaked. My right breast was finally losing its painful engorgement, but she was nowhere near finished. She let out a soft whimper as another squirt of
milk shot down her throat. She looked up at me, eyes dark and hazy. Her latch was perfect. When she finally pulled away, she immediately began rooting around for the left side.

“What do you want, honey? The other one?” I teased. She just
whimpered in response. I guided her to the left breast, and she latched on immediately. As the second let-down wave hit, I whispered, “Damn, baby.” She snuggled deeper into my bosom, moaning contentedly as she drank. We eventually drifted off, tangled together. A few hours later, I woke up in the middle of the night to find her still attached, her mouth firmly
fixed on my nipple. I shifted to get comfortable, and felt her instinctive, rhythmic nursing. It was lovely. I drifted back to sleep with a smile. Throughout the rest of the night, she switched sides every few hours—sometimes on her own, sometimes guided by me when I felt the pressure building. I was glad I did not have my pump. That night, Lacey and I found a level of intimacy I had not known we were capable of. I do not know what this means for our friendship, but as I watched her sleep, I knew one thing for sure: I did not want to stop. I
could not.

\[Raspberry & Forest Green\]
Written by Secretlyweett
© 2026 Secretlyweett. All rights
reserved. Reproduction,redistribution, or unauthorized use
of this content is strictly prohibited

Looking for a consistent, gentle Adult Nursing Relationship (ANR) in the Baton Rouge area .

I am a very feminine, cute, 5'10" thick/chubby Black INTJ lactating woman looking to start regularly feeding someone ASAP, with the long-term goal of finding a live-in partner for 3+ daily sessions.

The focus of this connection is strictly on cuddling, nurturing suckling, and deep bonding- no penetration is assumed or expected.

I am exclusively looking for attractive Black males (unless you are a muscular white man in shape tall like Jason Momoa rugged body type) or feminine women.

SMOKE-free, and maintain impeccable hygiene (showering and brushing teeth right before meetings is a must).

Respect, consistency, and gentleness are non-negotiable, so absolutely no roughness. You must be available to meet 2–3 times per week, and while I can host, we should be able to alternate locations (if you host, you must live alone
And have a CLEAN home).

Please read these details carefully, and if you meet all the requirements and are ready for a dedicated partnership, send me a message introduce yourself.

I am a very feminine, cute, 5'10" thick/chubby Black lactating woman looking to start regularly feeding someone ASAP - like today, with the long-term goal of finding a live-in partner for 3+ daily sessions.

The focus of this connection is strictly on cuddling, nurturing suckling, and deep bonding - no penetration should be assumed or expected unless we discuss and agree to start having sex.

You must be an attractive BLACK male or a cute feminine woman of any race.

You must be completely smoke-free and maintain impeccable hygiene (showering and brushing teeth right before meetings is a must).

Respect, consistency, and gentleness are non-negotiable, so absolutely no roughness. You must be available to meet 2–3 times per week, or you will be replaced. I can host, but we should be able to alternate locations (if you host, you must live alone and your place must be CLEAN).

Please read these details carefully, and if you meet all the requirements and are ready for a dedicated partnership, send me a message!

Xoxoxx

Throw away account - for privacy 🫣

I did some searching in this group's history, and I’ve found that we don't talk enough about the emotion- the sadness or emptiness and frustration - that comes when you lose a consistent ANR partner.

As I’m sure you all know, it is so difficult to find a reliable individual that you connect with on a spiritual level, someone you believe is worth having that type of relationship with. So when the relationship ends, and you no longer have someone to feed or to feed from, it leaves a profound emptiness. It has been months since I’ve had someone regularly feed from me and tend to my breasts on a weekly/daily basis. Someone to find peacefulness together.. I have tried to find men worth my time, but they only want the experience to focus on their satisfaction - which usually means whenever and however on their terms. All of this to say that I have been feeling quite empty and rather depressed. The daily pumping leaves me yearning for a partner. I will say, though, I am happy to be lactating; there is an upside, because I love being able to produce so beautifully and abundantly. But I can only store so much. The days where I have to pour my milk down the drain just stink. I do donate sometimes, but there is only so much I can give away, and only so much room in my freezer.

I'm just venting... can anyone relate?

Through my research, I’ve found it is a scientific fact that when a woman stops or reduces breastfeeding, regardless of the circumstances, she can experience intense lows. You miss it, and that emptiness is real.