The Strange Lactation Therapist

In the bedroom, I am being manipulated into various positions. A strange man reaches out toward me and fondles my body roughly with his callused hands.

He leans in closer and tells me to relax because it will help release the milk quickly. The man before me is my husband's best friend. He was hired to be my lactation therapist.

His hands roam across my waist slowly and pause right at my chest.

I can hear him saying in a hoarse voice, "I'm going to start massaging here."

I can't help but shudder before closing my eyes tightly.

I, Whitney Quigley, had been married to my husband, Thomas Walker, for three years. We welcomed our firstborn recently, Oliver Walker. However, I had been struggling due to low breastmilk production, leaving my baby crying with hunger.

Looking at my well-endowed figure, I couldn't help but feel upset. I clearly had the volume, so why couldn't I produce milk for my child? Thomas and I had tried various remedies such as taking herbs and supplements, but nothing worked.

Oliver started crying again. I lifted my clothes and tried to breastfeed him once more. He managed to latch on successfully, but he couldn't get any milk. His face scrunched up as he cried loudly from hunger.

I felt incredibly disappointed because I couldn't quell my child's hunger despite having a 36E cup size. What made it worse was that he refused to take baby formula.

Seeing Oliver growing thinner by the day, I had no choice but to ask for help from other mothers in my neighborhood group to supply breastmilk. But this was not a long-term solution.

After my baby fell asleep, I put on a lace nightgown and crawled over to my husband slowly. I tried to seduce him. "Thomas, why don't you give me a hand?"

Desire washed over me as my breathing quickened.

However, he held my hand down and said helplessly, "At this point, I'll have to get my best friend to help out."

"What?" Puzzled, I scrambled to sit up. "I just don't have any breastmilk. What does your friend have to do with it?"

"Charlie Cooper. He's visited before. His wife also had difficulty breastfeeding back then, and he was the one who helped her. He even got a certificate as a lactation therapist."

I was stunned for a few seconds. My face turned crimson at the thought of having a lactation massage done by a stranger, let alone a man.

I said in a panic, "How is this acceptable? He is a man!"

The thought of him coming close and touching me…

I couldn't stop a whimper from escaping from my throat. My cheeks were flushed, and I hesitated to agree.

Thomas reassured me as his hands wandered across my body. "Whitney, what's wrong with him being a man? I don't mind. What's more, you don't need to undress for the therapy. Have you forgotten that our baby needs to be fed?"

His words woke