To suck or not to suck?

I have two nipple horror stories. I save them for particularly dull dinner parties when I want to horrify all those present. Especially the men.

You see, there is something about nipples that men hold sacred. They are our indicators, the same way a bulge in the pants is theirs. They tolerate the fact that babies need to use them for nourishment, but it’s not something they want to talk about.

And so I hit them with the first story, which is just gross. And it’s true.

Friends of mine had finally got granny to take the kids for a night. The baby had been breastfeeding up until about a month before, but now was able to last for a few hours outside of the immediate orbit of his mother.

So of course my friends were taking full advantage of their night off – watching TV, eating pizza – until they decided they really should probably have sex while they had some peace and quiet. At this point the male half of the couple got very frenzied and did some extensive nipple sucking.

And then he stopped and ran to the bathroom. You see some milk had been lurking just inside the nipples and had gone sour…

And while the men are still reeling from this story I hit them with story number two. This involves the ten-month-old biter, who got a good grip on it and…well to cut a long story short, the mother arrived at the hospital clutching her nipple in her hand.

So why, you ask, do I share my nipple horror stories with you now?

Because once they take root in your brain you just have to share them with someone else. Happy dinner parties everyone!