Hi all I’m 24 yo with 38D jugs And I also have galactorrhea (I leak milk when I’m stimulated or in a random afternoon or in sleep) So I had this weird idea of making tea from my milk But I don’t produce much So I just mix it with packet milk when I put tea for my family members (only men) So last evening we had guests at our home Most of them are men So I told them I’ll make tea and closed the kitchen door Started to pinch my nipples to get the milk out It filled more than half of a medium size glass and It was a painful process too So I mixed it with the normal milk and made tea as soon as possible so that the milk didn’t go to waste Then i served them and enjoyed every sip they took lol
The idea had been sitting in me for a while, this private little thrill I never said out loud. My 38D jugs already felt heavy most days because of the galactorrhea. Milk would bead up if I brushed against something, or if I thought about it too long, or for no reason at all in the middle of the afternoon, or when I woke up with a damp patch on the sheet. I leaked when I was stimulated and I leaked when I was not. I started wondering what it would taste like in tea. Not a lot comes out at once, never enough to fill a cup on its own, so the only way it ever felt possible was to steal a little into the packet milk I already used when I made tea for the men in the house.
Last evening the house filled with guests. Most of them were men. I told them I would make tea and I shut the kitchen door behind me. The click of the latch felt louder than it should have. I stood at the counter, pulled my top aside, and started pinching my nipples the way I had learned would bring the milk. It was not gentle. Each squeeze sent a sharp, dragging ache through the tissue, the kind that made my breath catch and my eyes water a little. Thin streams came, then thicker drops, warm against my fingers. I aimed them into a medium glass. The glass slowly climbed past the halfway mark. My breasts throbbed. My nipples felt raw and oversensitive. I kept going because I did not want to lose what I had already drawn out.
When I had enough I mixed it straight into the packet milk, stirring until the two became one pale liquid. I made the tea fast, kettle still singing, leaves steeping while I watched the clock, because I did not want any of it to sit and go to waste. I poured the cups, carried the tray out, and handed them around. I watched their mouths, the steam, the way they lifted the cups and drank. Every sip they took felt like it belonged to me. I stood there and enjoyed it.