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My Sister Breastfed Me: Part 2 She carefully arranged the pillows behind my head so I could stay lying down comfortably, then climbed onto the bed beside me. Positioning herself on her side, she leaned over me, supporting her weight with one arm while using her other hand to gently guide her nipple toward my mouth. Her breast hung perfectly in front of my face, the swollen areola and nipple brushing against my lips. At that moment, a strange clarity washed over me through the fever haze. This wasn't about crossing some invisible line, it was pure survival instinct. My body was starving, aching with emptiness after days of vomiting everything up. The idea of taboo didn't even register; all that mattered was the possibility of nourishment. If she could actually produce milk and feed me, then who cared about how it happened? The warm skin scent of her filled my senses as I opened my mouth weakly. I closed my lips around her nipple, sealing them against the soft skin of her areola. At first it was just the motion, a rhythmic sucking that felt instinctively comforting, like having a warm pacifier in my mouth. The simple act of suckling soothed me immediately, taking my mind off the nausea and weakness. I could feel the tension leaving my body with each gentle pull. She remained perfectly still above me, her breathing steady as I continued. Minutes passed with just that repetitive motion, my eyes closed in concentration. Then something changed, a slight pulsation followed by a sudden warmth flooding my mouth. It was thin and sweet, different from anything I'd tasted before. Her milk flowed steadily now, and I swallowed automatically, my throat working without any gag reflex or discomfort for the first time in days. The emptiness in my stomach began to fade, replaced by a growing fullness that spread through my whole body with comforting warmth. I didn't stop until that deep hunger was completely gone, releasing her nipple only when I felt truly satisfied for the first time since falling ill.