Prose & Lore is a literary journal published by the New York sex workers’ rights organization Red Umbrella Project. Memoir stories about sex work are collected in two issues per year (Fall/Winter and Spring/Summer). We at Tits and Sass have been following Prose and Lore since the journal began, and the fourth issue is even more fantastic than those that preceded it. Prose & Lore Issue 4 features 20 original, true stories about experiences in the sex trades, written by sex workers who were supported in writing their stories through Red Umbrella Project’s peer-led writing workshops in NYC and by mentor editors who worked with folks from outside of NYC. Contributors include new writers we have our eye on like Ava Talley and Leigh Alanna, our very own Tits and Sass co-editor Caty Simon and longtime Tits and Sass contributors Lori Adorable and Elle Stranger, Tits and Sass interview subject and harm reduction pioneer L. Synn Stern, and veteran Desiree Alliance activist Cris Sardina. Issue 4 came out on July 15th – order ebook or print copies directly through RedUP or enter to win one of five free copies on Goodreads. Interested in writing for the next issue? Details will be posted on this page and RedUP’s tumblr.
Here we feature an excerpt of the journal, the piece “Got Milk?” by Janet, about her experience working as a pregnancy fetish and lactation fetish provider during and after her pregnancy. Janet’s wry humor and honesty about finding a way to make bank as a single mom student escort who was terrified that getting knocked up would leave her unemployed had us cracking up through just about every paragraph. Janet was born and raised in New Jersey and has been a sex worker for 18 years, half her life. She started dancing at lock doors and strip clubs, but after getting tired of the dancing scene, she went on to work at various services as an escort in New York City and Northern New Jersey. She has traveled and worked escort services up and down the East Coast. She is currently working as an independent escort wherever it tickles her fancy.
How does one really decide to be a lactation fetish provider? I would love to say I calculated the short time I had the true potential of making bank, especially with my great fucking nipples and high milk production, which I made it my mission to keep up. I was a single mom and horny as hell. Working while breastfeeding was the only sexual outlet I had and it helped pay some bills. Well, only a small part of that one is true. I was a single mom and it helped pay some bills, but the rest is what I like to call a stereotypical situation avoidance strategy.
I certainly was not out to be the next unwed single mom college dropout. I wish I could have thrown teenage in there but I had done this dumb shit before and like they say, fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me. I was working on baby number two and in my junior year in college, full-time status, I may add, and technically single. I was already relying strictly on sex work to pay all my living expenses, and living in Northern New Jersey was expensive even then, more than a decade ago. I never really thought it was but everyone that I met was surprised to hear I lived alone as a single mom. They would inevitably go straight to, “Oh, what do you do?” Answering with, “Full time college student” would not work. So I avoided socializing outside of work and the occasional recreational sexual escapade when working was not my cup of tea. This way everyone I spoke to already knew what I did and that I was a full time student. Once I was naked it was pretty obvious from the stretchmarks that I had kids.
So I find out I am pregnant again and at the worst possible time. “Technically single” meant my kid’s father wouldn’t own me. I had been outed amongst his friends as a sex worker so I guess he justified not owning me. And of course I had to find out half way through my pregnancy that he had had another woman in Connecticut for over a year. She had no idea I was pregnant. Oh, and let’s not forget about the local married Dominican woman he was fucking –oops, sorry, she was “separated.” She knew all about me and was determined to make sure I knew how he felt about me, according to what he told her. She said that he said that he “didn’t want to know shit about that shit I had in my stomach,” because it wasn’t his. Like I said, worst possible time.
I had also just taken a semester off due to not filing financial aid on time. I damn sure was not paying for school on my own when as a single mom I qualified for grants. Sounds fucked up because when people rely on sex work during schooling it is supposedly to pay their way through school. But I worked to pay my basic cost of living, as a single mom on my own. Tuition on top of that would mean I could never spend time with my son and I just didn’t have that many sitters I trusted. Plus: damn, a sitter is just more money. I was determined not to be like most and fall into the trap of ‘just a semester off,’ which turns into not going back. I was freaked out because I really thought I would be out of commission to work if I was pregnant again and stupid enough to keep it.
Luckily, due to my single mother struggles I was forced to register for the easier major of psychology. And even luckier, I had an adjunct professor whom I had had in previous semesters for some of my psychology classes. I hate admitting I suck at names but I accredit it all to occupational hazard, so I can only say I think his name was Jim. I had had him for abnormal psychology in a previous semester and it was during this class that the small detail of my profession came up. In some way, in regards to class material, I disclosed how I came to be so knowledgeable, just through research to stay as safe as possible for work. After all, as sexworkers we come across a lot of crazies and psychopaths.
I found out I was pregnant in January of 2000 and I had four strong psychology classes that spring semester. One of them was psychology of human sexuality. I can honestly say this was a life changing semester for me, in part due to my professor who helped me to realize I could have a successful pregnancy as a sex worker. A few professors reached out to me during my college years, but I have to say he was the most memorable, mostly because he turned into a client that same year. He did have the decency to wait until we were between semesters and he technically, at that moment, wasn’t my professor. But he knew what I was and when he found out I was expecting again he asked if I would continue as a courtesan. I didn’t think I could but he put me on to how beautiful women are pregnant and how many men especially look for and adore pregnant and lactating women as a fetish.
This is when I opened my eyes. I realized how I could keep going to graduate with just a year left. I felt a bit weird so I didn’t always work pregnant as a full service provider, unless they were my regulars from before the pregnancy, and didn’t mind. I had a nice piece of dick on the side to keep my pussy open for delivery, a nice steady booty call only. The best part of being pregnant meant no rubber with my booty call, so: fucking at its best. What made it best was that it was safe and comfortable. I’d known this guy just as long as I’d known my ex – actually my booty call had been one of my ex’s best friends since elementary school. I was safe. Safe from having to be in a relationship and in general. And there was another plus: payback’s a bitch!
So here I was trying to figure out how to best market myself in the short time I had to make bank. EROS it was. It was 2000, so the internet was not what it is today. I damn sure was not finding anywhere else to discreetly rent out my pregnant company. I chose the regulars that didn’t mind seeing me despite my pregnancy. Thank god for some men being creatures of habit. I proceeded to get my ad up and going for pregnant fetish. This would be my prologue to the upcoming erotic lactation I would be offering.
I considered all the pros and cons, and then went right into money making mode. The only con was how I would feel having grown ass men I did not know sucking on my titty. The same titty my baby sucked on. My paranoia took me to that fucked up place of can I get something on my nipple from their dirty mouth and pass it to my baby? I certainly would disinfect myself well after all appointments.
Now, the pros were numerous, so I was all in. Quicker weight loss was first on my list, of course, next to healthier for baby and more sleep. But right up there was that there was way more money for this taboo eccentricity. I tried researching the going hourly rates but I found no other women advertising in my area for this specialty, so I figured I could pretty much make it what I wanted. I would begin with the pregnancy fetish ad to set it up and begin screening for lactation clients as well, for after I had my baby. It made sense: clients looking for milk would look to see if pregnant courtesans would offer lactation as well. As I prepared during my no-full-service pregnant fetish appointments, I saw how nice this would turn out to be. I damn sure would be making bank. Being a single mom with two kids would be a breeze.
So back to my sweet professor Jim, who loved a woman’s beautiful large round pregnant belly. He never had intercourse with me in any session, but he was a voyeur. He would occasionally pay me to let one of his friends think I was some college sex nympho and not let his friend know I was getting paid. Then he would stand right next to us the whole time staring at everything we did up close. And I mean, “I can smell your breath as I suck his dick” up close. A lil more and I thought he was going to help and start sucking his friend’s balls!
But he loved his private pregnant sessions. He didn’t care about no full service and loved making sure I always came every session. He loved watching how fat and swollen my pussy looked and how incredibly wet it got when I came and how round and hard my belly got as I came. I honestly didn’t mind. I was always so horny while I was pregnant so the more my appointments revolved around my pussy being played with and no intercourse, I was happy. I loved how much men loved my beautiful, big, fat, pregnant ass – stretch marks and all. I personally loved how beautiful and big my breasts got and how large and dark my brown nipples got. I just loved that I got to cum and the sessions usually were all about me. Sometimes the guy would want a blow job or hand job and ask to come on my belly. I considered myself to be doing better than some married women in my condition in the sex department.
Jim and I spent a great deal of time talking about erotic lactation and the types of things I would encounter. I was excited when I began getting calls inquiring as to when the sessions would begin. I gave them the approximate time, after my due date and recovery, and went about explaining my screening process. I was amazed to find that calls came from all over the country. I was doing fetish role-playing only, no full service. That is unless, of course, the guy kept offering a ridiculous amount of money, and after hearing it so many times I would just cave. Especially in times when all bills are due at once and I just splurged on a shopping spree. Or in the moment when my booty call was too busy and I was past due and horny as hell. All sex workers will tell you, if they’re being honest, that if the compensation figure goes high enough, they will sooner or later accept the thing that they don’t really want to do.
So my ad was a basic erotic lactation ad with the title reading “Got Milk?” I posed sideways on a bed in a pink Victoria’s Secret baby-doll nightie sitting on my knees with my head back and hair loose and down to my waist. I waited a little more than a month after the baby was born before beginning the lactation sessions. Before I gave birth, I already had a few semi-confirmed bookings that were just awaiting a date. I also had my pregnant fetish guys that would get a few drops here and there, and they made it clear that they would continue to see me after the baby was born for their milk as well.
The most common sessions I encountered were men that would love to watch me play with myself while squirting them with milk as a lubricant for them to jerk off with. All of them drank as much as they could get and loved trying to sit in my lap and play the infant role, staying on the titty, sucking away.
I remember one regular I had had since my pregnancy days, damned again if I can’t remember his name. He knew I was without a car at the time so he would reserve a car service to pick me up at home and take me to him in a hotel. He would usually stay in Edison or Central Jersey. I would find bottled water and an envelope in the car. The envelope had a hotel room key and instructions, slightly different each time. He would write me a letter and explain to me how he wanted our session to play out. So I would have about 45 minutes or so to kind of rehearse our playtime. Our sessions slowly developed into a fantasy where he was a little bit older, toddler age, but still nursing. He would wear an adult diaper and cut a hole and slit out in front for his dick and nuts to come out. In this scenario, he would have me enter the room and act as if the place was all out of sorts or perhaps something was broken and he was about to get punished for the infraction. So I began to scold him and sit on the edge of the bed and order him to my side. I would open my blouse and let my titties hang out. I then proceeded to ask him if he wants his titty and when he said yes I responded with a firm, “No, you were a bad boy! Time out from titty and a spanking for you! Now bend over my lap and get ready!” I made him put his ass in my lap and then I began to spank him.
He made sure he specified how hard he wanted me to spank him. As he lay down over my lap, I would be sitting fully on the bed. He was a grown ass heavy man. I had to make sure his dick was between my thighs so he could fuck my thighs as his dick got hard, the harder and more I spanked him. He feigned crying, but not too loudly, more of a whimpering as he grinded and fucked my thighs. All the while I had to keep scolding him, “Bad, bad, bad, boy! Very, very, very, bad boy!” and spank in beat with the scolding. After a while I put on a rubber glove and made him sit in my lap to allow him to breastfeed. But with a bit of a twist. While he drank I squeezed the other breast to squirt his dick with as much milk needed to keep him lubed up. I also made sure to milk-lube up my gloved hand because that was headed to a place of its own.
The gloved hand would try to squeeze in the diaper under his cock and balls to his ass. He would then spread his ass to have me try to finger his ass while he jerked off and continued sucking for milk, sometimes letting it dribble out his mouth to his dick. I began using the glove because I realized rather quickly that fingering wasn’t always enough. He began needing almost my whole fist up there. I can understand, I mean I do have small hands and can slip pretty easily outta cuffs so maybe my hand was too small. I never really stopped to ask. I just tried it and he never stopped as I went deeper and deeper. Judging by his response he enjoyed it the more I inserted and twisted.
I really did him like I used to do an ex-girlfriend of mine who would gush all over my hand because it was the only thing she enjoyed so I got her off like that. Towards the end of my milking days he even brought a dildo along for me to use on him. No strap-on harness because he needed to be on his breast. He knew our sessions were coming to an end so he was beginning to spend more of the sessions drinking and getting jerked and done up his ass as opposed to the spanking.
As I think about it now, I am saddened by how quickly it all ended. No matter how hard I tried to keep up my milk, it was just not enough. All the fenugreek and mother’s milk tea, water, tuna fish, peanut butter, even all the extra pumping, just would not keep it up. The best way to increase my milk supply was to keep the actual child breastfeeding as much as possible. And that was just not possible to do when the child was eating solids and just not as interested except at nap time. The length of time really varies and it all depends on how dedicated one wants to be to keeping a child breastfeeding or how long one wishes to offer this fetish. In the end, when the child feels like stopping they will. If you get real lucky and get a clingy spoiled child they may want to continue until they are five! Some people think that’s kind of messed up, but I say it’s lucky because I say it strictly with business potential in mind! How disturbing! It’s all really how one feels and views breastfeeding into older age. So the window is a short one to break the bank while lactating and it broke my heart when it was finally all over.