Gender: Male Age: Secret Location: Midwest
|Introduction: Father-in-Law and a nursing mother help each other in the husband's absence.|
Adam had been called to the South Pole with less than a day’s notice.
“It’s a once in a lifetime chance,” he’d said sadly, “If I don’t do it now it’ll never happen.”
It was likely a good thing there wasn’t much time to talk about it – to debate the pros and cons. Still, Violet found herself standing at the airport in a state of shock – a one-month-old baby on her hip and the love her life en route to spend six months at the coldest place on Earth in a location where even email was barely available, let alone the internet.
At least money wasn’t an issue. Adam’s grant was funded by several major corporations. It paid surprisingly well and spouse subsistence was even included. She would be able to stay in their lovely little home in the woods on the outskirts of Portland, Oregon with the beautiful garden in back.
Yet, when she returned to their lovely home at the end of the winding road she had never seen an emptier place in her life.
At least Adam’s father lived in the area. Adam’s parents were divorced and his mother lived with her new husband back East. But Charles was a godsend. He was a quiet, reserved man – who seemed to be good at everything. He had already helped get so many things set up around the house and promised to help as much as he could with Violet the baby.
With Adam gone, naps for Violet were in short supply. There was no one to change the baby at night, nobody to help with <i>anything.</i> Violet found herself growing more and more tired.
Thankfully, the baby somehow sensed her exhaustion and about a week after Adam’s departure, little Ian finally slept all the way through the night.
As revitalizing as a solid night of sleep was - it didn’t help her in the breast department. She woke with a piercing pain.
“Ouch!,” she muttered as she woke up to throbbing breasts and a soaked nightgown. She peeked in on Ian and couldn’t believe he was still sleeping soundly.
“The one time I need him,” she joked to herself.
She rushed to the kitchen and started pulling out the parts of the pump from the dishwasher. She couldn’t help but laugh as rivulets streamed down her boobs. She shrugged in resignation and pulled down her top, slapping the pump on to one engorged breast and just chuckled as the other breast continued leaking.
She’d just switched to the other one when she had the odd feeling of being watched. Looking up, she saw Charles standing outside the kitchen, watching her with sort of a deer-in-the-headlights look. She couldn’t blame him, here she was a 5’2” pixie with tits about twice their already ample size, standing in the middle of her kitchen topless, milking herself like a cow on a dairy farm. She couldn’t blame him for staring.
At first she considered covering up, but then just shrugged in helpless surrender. Charles gave her a wry, discomfited grin in return then headed off with his toolbox to fix the gate and garage door that she’d called him about.
Just as Charles walked away, Ian started to cry from the nursery.
“<i>Now</i> you’re hungry,” called Violet to the bedroom. “Ten minutes earlier, you would have saved me a lot of troubles and embarrassment!”
A half hour later, Ian was well fed and playing in his playpen. Violet was dressed, and coffee was steaming in the pot. Charles knocked at the door.
“Come in,” she called. “Coffee’s been waiting for you.”
“Sounds good,” said Charles, wiping his feet and stepping in. “The gate and door are fixed. I can’t promise how long the garage door is going to hold up before it needs replaced, but it should last a while.”
They made chit chat for a while, and then Violet decided to talk about the elephant in the room.
“Hey, sorry about the peep show earlier.”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Charles. “I didn’t want to knock in case one of you was asleep, so I came around back and… Anyway, that’s about the most real skin these old eyes have seen in about five years.
“Not so old,” said Violet. “You’re only forty-five.”
“And, I have a hard time believing you haven’t seen – well – seen some action in five years.
“You’d be surprised,” said Charles, still blushing. “I mean, Laurie left me, and we’d been together twenty years. Before that, it wasn’t like I was much on the singles scene. People keep telling me to get ‘out there’ but when I do, I just want to get right back in.”
“I understand,” said Violet, sensing not to push things any further. “Listen, I know it’s not a hot date or anything, but I was wondering if you’d like to come over for dinner on Friday. Ian isn’t much on conversation, you know?”
“I uh, sure. Sure, that’d be great.”
Friday came around. Dinner was <i>not </i>going according to plan. Ian was extra <i>fractious</i> as her grandmother liked to say, and everything that could go wrong – did. She was normally a good cook, but cooking was all about timing and Ian was a six week old expert at throwing off anything related timing.
Charles arrived to find a smoky kitchen, a smoke alarm going off, and Violet trying to cook with one hand, Ian wrapped in a sling, his face pressed into her breast.
“I’ve got one question for you,” said Charles.
“How do you like Thai food?”
“I <i>love</i> Thai food.”
“Good. Go finish feeding Ian. I’ll order, then clean up the kitchen. I brought wine, by the way. I wasn’t sure if you could drink it.”
“One glass, no problem.”
Violet fed Ian, freshened up, and stepped into an entirely transformed kitchen. The smoke was gone, the mess was gone, and Charles was setting out the Thai food which had just arrived.
“Ian isn’t going to join us?” he asked.
“No, he finally went down. Thank god.”
“He probably wouldn’t have liked the tom kha anyway,” joked Charles. “Too spicy. Nice dress, by the way.”
“Oh, thank you,” she said. “I just figured – dinner, grownups, time to finally get out of a nursing gown or overalls. Mind you, it took some doing to get into it with the milk factory that has taken up residence in my chest.
“It suits you… the dress. The milk factory, well, it certainly enhances things, I guess you’d say.”
Violet giggled at Charles’ frank nature. They were certainly obvious. The dress she was wearing had shown a modest amount of cleavage before Ian, now her boobs were squeezed in and pushed up like a restoration corset.
“So,” she said, “shall we eat?”
The wine tasted like ambrosia. It was the first taste she’d had in almost a year and it rolled around on her tongue in a beautiful way.
“Oh my god, that’s good,” she said, savoring each drop. “You have <i>no</i> idea what this tastes like.”
“And you’re sure it’s okay for Ian. Doesn’t it get into your milk?”
“It’s sort of a myth really. Not to say a nursing mother should be pounding them back all the time, but it’s not the crime you’d think. People have always had this idea that when the mother drinks, the alcohol goes straight to the milk. The most recent studies say that basically, if the mom feels tipsy, then that can make the baby tipsy. It’s sort of a myth that the alcohol goes into the milk. If it’s in my bloodstream, it’s in my milk, if I sober up, so does the supply. For me it doesn’t really matter, I’ve got so much saved up I’ll just do a pump-and-dump tonight and tomorrow morning.
“Well, if you’re going do that, why should you worry about just the one glass?” said Charles.
“I’ll drink to that,” said Violet.
Finishing the first glass, Violet was already a bit tipsy.
“Wooh, I’m a lightweight,” she said, giggling. “That’s what taking a year off of drinking will do to you.”
They enjoyed the meal and conversation.
“So, Charles, it looks like you’re a breast man,” she said, having noticed Charles frequent glances – and not into her eyes.
“I uh… to be honest, I’m having a hard time not looking given the size of your milk factory, as you put it. But to answer your question - yes, yes I am.”
“Don’t be ashamed,” said Violet. “I’m just getting some clarification. Women notice these things, you know. I saw you sneaking a peek now and again even before these puppies blew up like balloons.”
“Guilty, I guess,” said Charles. “I do my best not to stare, but show me a woman in a low-cut top, and my manners tend to fail.”
“Your manners are gentlemanly compared to a lot of the men I’ve met. I worked with a guy for two years, and I bet he still couldn’t tell you what color my eyes are.”
By the time they were polishing off the pad thai, Violet had finished her second glass. Her eyelids were growing droopy.
“Gosh Charles, I’m-really-tired,” she slurred.
“I don’t blame you,” he said. “Why don’t you go lie down for a little while.”
“But the baby… “I’ll feed him if he wakes up,” he said. “Now get some rest.”
She stumbled off to the bedroom, zombielike, barely aware of changing into her pajamas.
“Fuck!” she cursed softly. <i> “</i>Fuck, this hurts.”
For the second time in less than a week, she woke up with breasts that were practically rigid from engorgement.
She looked to the clock.
“Double-fuck!” she cursed. It was almost nine in the morning. How had she slept through Ian. For that matter how the hell had she’d gotten to the bedroom.
She dashed into the kitchen to be greeted by the loveliest sight in the world. Charles was in the rocking chair and had a bottle in Ian’s mouth. Her little son was looking up at his grandfather lovingly.
“I just figured since you were going to pump, I might as well let you sleep for a while.”
“Oh my god, that is the nicest thing ever,” said Violet. “Speaking of pumping… Charles interrupted her.
“I got it out of the dishwasher and put it together. I hope I did it right.”
He had. Violet sat at the table and relieved the worst of the pressure. Once that was gone, she suddenly realized something – the world was clear again – normal, for once.
“Wow that felt good Charles. I had no idea how tired I was. Did Ian keep you up much?”
“Oh no. Just once at about two-thirty or something. We were up for half an hour or so, but he went right back down. I slept great in the guest room, the bed’s a little softer than mine, but nice and comfy.”
“I’m glad you slept good – and thank you again so much. I feel like a normal person.”
“Hey, do you want to come over again for dinner Friday?” she asked.
“I’d love to, but on two conditions.”
“Sure, what are they?”
“One, you let me bring dinner. Two, I stay over again and let you recharge.” “You have got yourself <i>such</i> a deal.”
The following week was an especially hard one for Violet. After two months of smooth sailing, Ian suddenly became colicky. Night and day he was clingy and upset. By the time Charles arrived with dinner (Chinese food this time), all that Violet could do was hand the crying baby to Charles at arm’s length and open the wine bottle right away. Knowing she had Charles helping for the night, Violet polished off another two glasses, which had an even stronger effect. By the end of the meal she was sobbing into Charles’ shoulder, talking about how she’d never make it until Adam got back. Charles got her through the worst of it, and soon escorted her to her bedroom where she collapsed on the bed fully dressed. She was snoring within moments.
“And once again, I am human,” she said, practically floating into the kitchen the following morning. “And would you look at who decided to calm down?”
Ian was crawling around in his playpen looking happy as a clam. Dared she hope the colic was a thing of the past?
She pumped a load out and then started making breakfast.
“I can do that,” said Charles.
“That’s okay,” she reassured him. “Getting to use two hands without Ian clinging to me, that’s more relaxing than you can imagine.”
Bacon, eggs, the works. They sat down to a lovely breakfast.
“I made it,” she said. “Finally, I can say I fixed you a real meal.”
“A great one, too.”
They were nearly done when Ian started to get fussy.
“I’ll get him,” said Charles.
“No, let me. I could use the relief.”
“Like I say, it’s a milk factory.”
Violet retired to the rocking chair with Ian and Charles started gathering up the dishes.
“Charles, you don’t have to.”
“I know I don’t have to, I want to.”
It was a curiously comfortable domestic scene. Charles doing the dishes, Violet nursing her baby. If someone had looked in from the outside, they might have suspected a May-December marriage.
Both of them felt the ease of the way they got along – but it was Charles who surprised Violet with a proposition. She had just put Ian down and returned to the couch when Charles came to sit beside her, looking a bit anxious.
“Violet, I want to talk to you about something.”
“I’ve been thinking. I wasn’t a very good father.”
“Adam would disagree about that. I’ve never heard him say a bad thing about you.”
“Okay, maybe I should say I wasn’t a very good father, or husband, when Adam was a baby. I could count the number of diapers I changed on one hand. I never got up during the night. My point is – I hate seeing you this tired. I know how hard this is. Here are the facts. You’ve got a guest room. You need help. I live on my own. It’s not like you’ll be taking me away from anything other than 6 hours a night of ESPN and History Channel War Documentaries. If it could mean I’d be spending time with my Ian, and making up for my first pass with a baby, it would mean more to me than you can imagine. So, just think it over and…”
“Okay,” said Violet, not even letting him finish.
“I promise I won’t be anything but a help, and if I get too much I’ll… “Charles, I said <i>okay</i>. I love the idea. I truthfully have had times over the past couple of weeks when I’ve doubted if I’ll be able to survive. You’re in.”
While Charles was gathering up things from his apartment, Violet cleaned out the dresser and the closet in the guest room. By the end of the weekend, he was moved in and Monday morning found the house seeming like he’d been there for months. He had risen in the night to give Ian a change and feeding, and she had woken with Ian at six – made coffee – and handed him a steaming cup when he was done dressing from his shower.
They established an easy familiarity with each other. Violet lost most of her modesty when breastfeeding and Charles did his best not to stare. Charles soon stopped bringing his clothes into the bathroom, and instead returned to his bedroom in just a towel. In this instance, Violet did <i>her </i> best to keep her eyes averted. Sure, Charles had the start of a gut, but for his age he was in pretty good shape.
With Charles around, Violet was able to actually start sleeping again truly began to feel well-rested. A surprising side-effect of that was the sudden reappearance of her sex drive.
She had been deemed high risk starting in the fifth month, which ruled out sex altogether. She had ‘serviced’ Adam now and again - but just the act of giving him a blowjob had gotten <i>her</i> so excited that they decided to steer clear of anything at all. Once the baby came, the advice was to wait a month or more (though she was too sore to really think about it anyway), and then Adam was gone.
Lying awake one night a few days after Charles’ arrival, for the first time in ages, she felt a true yearning. As she laid there on the bed, her hand drifted down and touched that wonderful button.
“Oh my god,” she whispered to herself at the way it set her on fire. She dipped her fingers into her surprisingly moist pussy and used her own juices as lubrication.
Something about the way her nightgown was touching her was annoying, she couldn’t describe why, but she sat up and threw it off so she could lay naked and feel the air all over her whole body. Once that was accomplished, her fingers got back to work and she was moaning as quietly as she could with the first orgasm in over six months building up in her body.
If the first alcohol had been intoxicating, the first climax was the equivalent of a triple-shot of Everclear. She felt her womb, her pussy, her legs – everything seize up in a paralyzing way and she had to bite down on her hand just to keep from screaming. Again and again, it rolled through her body. When it finally subsided, she wondered what sort of crazy hormonal change had occurred with pregnancy and childbirth, because she’d never felt anything like it.
A new sensation came next, coolness. Her breasts and her chest were suddenly cold. Looking down, she saw an undeniable physical reaction in her new body. The famed ‘letdown’ that could sometimes happen when a nursing mother climaxes had kicked in with a vengeance. Her breasts had leaked volumes during her orgasm and now the cooling effect of evaporation almost making her shiver. With post-orgasmic drowsiness kicking in, she had barely enough energy to dry off and put her nightgown back on before falling into blissful, welcome sleep – and eventually, dreams.
<i>She raised her ass into the air, ready for him to take her from behind. She tried to turn to him to urge him on, but he wouldn’t allow it. He grabbed her hair roughly and turned her away from him. She loved it when he was like this, so forceful, so in-command. His cock slid into her – slowly at first – but once he was past the point of initial penetration he slammed into her with a surprise move – making her body rock and forcing an unexpected cry from her lips.</i>
<i>“Fuck yeah,” she whispered in a husky voice. He slammed again. “Oh fuck! Do it again.”</i>
<i>He did, his hips started slamming into her so hard that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand. He kept going, attacking her with an almost demonic fervor. She knew he wouldn’t relent until he felt her start to cum. As she drew close, he changed his rhythm, pounding into her with more forceful (if that was possible) deeper and slower strokes. These made her full breasts sway beneath her, slapping against her chest and brushing her chin. </i>
<i>With a final, violent plunge, he sent her over the edge. Her knees lost all strength and she fell to the ground – crying out in pleasure as her body shook with each climax. He had fallen with her, and she could feel his cock against her ass, pulsating as he stroked himself to his own orgasm. She heard an intake of breath and turned.</i>
<i>“That’s it, Adam. Cum for me, cum all over my tits”</i>
<i>“I will” he said in a familiar, but different voice, “but I’m not Adam.”</i>
<i>She looked up to see that it was Charles, not Adam who had been fucking her senseless. She fell back in horror as the first blast shot out of his huge cock onto her face.</i>
Violet woke up with a shock. ‘It was just a dream’ she told herself, but that didn’t change how vivid the lingering images and sensations of the dream were in her mind.
Checking the clock, she saw it was later than she thought. She hurried out of her room, hoping Charles hadn’t been up too long.
“Oh, excuse me,” said Charles who was just emerging from the bathroom – in only a towel.
“No, I excuse I… uh…”
Violet was blushing furiously and wasn’t sure where to focus her eyes. Looking at his face, she could only remember the lustful expression she’d seen in the dream. Looking down… well, she could only contemplate how the bulge hiding below the towel might compare to what her imagination had cooked up.
“Vi, is everything okay?”
She muttered it was, and something about coffee, or something before scurrying off to the kitchen.
A few minutes later, Charles emerged from the bedroom in his suit and tie, ready for a big meeting that day.
<i>God he’s handsome,</i> thought Violet to herself. <i>Stop it.</i>
“How’d you sleep?” asked Charles.
“I didn’t have any dreams if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Okaaay, I wasn’t, but that’s fine. I read an article once that said nearly everyone dreams, some people just can’t remember them all that well.”
<i>If only</i>, she mused.
The dreams, and the masturbation, continued. It didn’t help that she was hornier than she ever remembered. She developed a routine. 9:30 nursing, masturbation (pleasuring herself right after nursing helped control the leak factor), 4:30 nursing, masturbation.
The only ‘wet’ session was always bedtime – she would put the baby down at 8:00 and then stay up talking to Charles.
By the time she went to bed at 10:00 or so, her boobs would be full enough to go all faucet on her when she came. She just learned to have a towel always at th ready.
The dreams <i>would not</i> stop. Adam was the object of her fantasies for masturbation. She even concentrated on him before falling asleep – but her subconscious seemed to have a lock on her handsome father-in-law.
For two full weeks, she endeavored to shrug it off as some Freudian impulse she should ignore, but then ‘it’ happened.
It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and Ian had gone down for a nap. Charles encouraged her to take one herself, and she retreated to the bedroom. Try as she might, all she could do was lay there in her post-orgasmic state and just listened to the noises of the house.
One noise seemed out of place. It was a rasping of some kind, a rhythmic…<i>something</i>.
She rose and opened her door quietly. Ian’s room was quiet, so she padded noiselessly down the hall toward the guest room, which seemed to be the source of the noise.
Getting closer, it wasn’t so much a rasp as a slap or squish of some sorts. Charles’ door was open just a crack, and she was stunned at the sight within.
Charles was only in his boxers, which were pushed down to his knees. His hand was lubed up and he was stroking himself in long, erotic motions.
Now she knew one thing, his cock wasn’t as large as the one her dream-imagination had constructed, but it sure as hell wasn’t small either. It was the perfect length for stroking. Aesthetically pleasing is a good description of the way he worked his hand up and down his lovely length.
She glanced to his face to make sure he wouldn’t notice her and was glad to see he was looking away from the door. She stood there mesmerized by the gorgeous site of the first cock she’d seen in a third of a year. It was indeed, gorgeous. She found her mouth watering at the prospect of… <i>stop it</i> <i>Violet</i>, she told herself.
His pace increased and based on his breathing she could tell he was getting close. Continuing to stroke with his left hand, he reached over to grab the object he’d been looking at – she took in an involuntary breath, her hand flying to her mouth.
It was her. Charles was staring at one of the favorite pictures she’d ever taken. It was from a trip to Dominica. She had been walking on the beach in a sun dress (with ample cleavage) and a photographer had captured the perfect shot, the setting sun behind her, her hair blowing in the wind.
A million emotions surged through her mind.
Was she embarrassed? Maybe a little.
Disgusted? Surprisingly, no. Given her dreams recently, that would certainly be the pot calling the kettle black.
Aroused? She contemplated that. Yes, she was aroused. Father-in-law or not, a handsome man was pleasuring himself to images of her.
She watched the first burst of cum fly out of his cock and land on the salt-and-pepper hair of his chest. Fearing he might turn and see her any minute, she stepped away from the door and returned as silently as possible to her room.
Interestingly, her dreams changed. Adam re-entered her subconscious life and any sexual dreams were mostly with him.
Her masturbation sessions, however, were quite the opposite. She would try to envision her husband as she rolled her fingers around on her clit.
When she got more excited, she would fuck herself with two, or even three fingers. With all of her might, she would try to imagine those fingers were her husband’s cock splitting her open. Yet, no matter how hard she tried, the images of Charles’ stroke session with him staring right at her picture kept occupying her mind.
She found herself listening closely at night. Though he didn’t leave his door open again, she heard the slippery sounds of hand-on-cock on a nightly basis.
<i>I bet the guys who make the little blue pills don’t want to hear about this guy</i>, she thought to herself.
That Friday, Charles sprang for a lovely meal from a nice Italian place in town. It came in those fancy foil containers with cardboard lids – the Cadillac of take-out containers. She’d picked out a lovely Cabernet Sauvignon at the market and they sat down to Tony Bennet.
“You can’t go wrong with Tony,” she said.
“I have to agree with you there.”
The wine went down easy. They chatted about this and that, and then she set about breaking the ice; ice he didn’t even know needed broken.
“Let’s play a game,” she said. “I call it answer and question.”
“I don’t think I know that one,” said Charles, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, it’s sort of like truth or dare – but just the truth part. The difference is – the person asking has to answer the same question first. For example, “When is the last time you had a banana. Me: Yesterday morning. You?”
“Oh, I get it,” said Charles. “Umm, last weekend.”
“Good,” said Violet.
She started it out slow. Favorite movies, restaurants. Earliest childhood memories, etc.
“Now let’s switch the tone a bit,” she said, gulping at what she the road she was heading down. “First real sexual experience, with who, where, and how old? Me: Dan Stephens. Senior Prom. In a motorhome his parents had parked at the back of their house. Now you.”
“Okay,” said Charles, taking a huge swig of wine. “Eighteen. A perfect stranger, a Greyhound Bus.”
“Ooh. Details please.”
“Alright,” said Charles, trying to sound casual. “We met, started making out, and she suggested it. It was dark. She pulled down my pants, then hers, and she sat down on my lap, facing the front of the bus.”
“Oh my god!” squealed Violet. “Did you cum like, in seconds? I mean, first time and all.”
“Actually, I lasted longer than you would have thought – the first time.”
“You did it twice?!”
“It was a long bus trip.”
“Yeah, well, Okay, you opened this door,” Charles was warming to this. “Umm, first time you masturbated?”
They compared stories. It was back to Violet’s turn.
“Last time you made love? Me: Four months into my pregnancy. Adam and I were making love and I started spotting a bit. The doctor told me, no more.”
Charles was hesitant, but still game.
“It was…three years ago. This beautiful sales rep took us out for drinks. God knows why, but she took a liking to me and eventually we wound up back at my place. I uh, I can’t think of another question.
“Okay, I’ll go again,” said Violet. “You asked about the first time – when was the <i> last</i> time you masturbated? Me? This morning at around 9:45. You?”
“Well I uh… I couldn’t really say,” stammered Charles.
“Was it last Sunday when you thought I was taking a nap?”
“No I… how did you know,” said Charles, looking down shamefaced.
“Because I saw you. Your door was open a tiny bit.” She lowered her voice. “I saw you doing it…and looking at the picture of me.”
Charles was so embarrassed he could only stand up and turn away. He walked to the glass door and looked out into the night, she could still make out his clouded face in the reflection.
“Violet, I’m sorry,” he said. “I love Adam, and I love you. I love you both immensely. I’d never do anything to… I don’t think of you in that way – not exactly. I don’t know how to describe it, but you’re just amazingly beautiful and. Shit, I’ll move out tomorrow.”
She had crossed to him by now and touched his arm.
“Charles,” she said, “I’m not angry. I’m not threatened. I guess you’d say I’m honored. There are a million naked girls on the internet and you chose a picture of me to fantasize about. Please don’t think…Damn, I shouldn’t have brought this up.”
“No, but you did,” Charles said softly. “I need to… I need to think about this –if it’s okay that I’m here. Goodnight, Vi.”
With that, he retreated to the guest room.
Violet cleaned up the few dishes and as she did she put herself through a silent cross-examination.
<i>Violet, why did you ask him those things?</i> she said to herself.
<i>Well</i>, said her other self, <i>because I thought we should talk about it, that’s all.</i>
<i>Why the hell did you need to talk about it? What’s your angle?</i>
She paused; took a deep breath; then spoke in her mind again.
<i>You know damned well what your angle is.</i>
A half an hour later, Charles lay in bed staring up at the ceiling – his stomach still churning uncomfortably from Violet’s revelation.
He heard a tap at the door and tried to ignore it.
“Charles, please open up,” said Violet through the door.
He waited for a good ten seconds and then opened the door just as she was preparing to knock a final time.
She looked radiant, like an angel.
Her hair was done up perfectly, she had on makeup that was <i>almost</i> slutty, but not quite. She was wearing a red, sexy teddy. Obviously, she’d bought it pre-maternity, because her ‘milk factories’ were straining at the silky fabric.
He didn’t have the chance to finish whatever it was he was going to say. She moved into him and wrapped her hands around his neck. Instinctively, he leaned down to meet the parted lips she offered. Her body melted into his and any objections he might have tried to muster were soon overruled by the response of his body to her amazingly firm (and literally ‘full’) breasts and the rest of her body sliding against him.
She bent over and pulled down his boxers - let him step out of them - then lifted his shirt over his head.
“Come on,” she said, pushing him to the bed.
He lay down on his back and she straddled him, grabbing his firm and ready tool and sliding it inside of her with no hesitation.
“There we go,” she said with a grateful sigh.
She leaned over then, resting her ever-productive breasts on his chest, and kissed him tenderly.
“Now listen, Charles. I’ve thought about this a lot. More than you could know. <i> You</i>, have done more than you could ever imagine for me – and I know you’re going to keep doing it for the next few months. My life is literally changed because of you.
<i>I</i> should give you something in return. I have it on good authority that what I’m doing for you right now is about the most a woman could do for a man, am I right?”
“<i>We</i> are both incredibly horny people. I have that on good authority. Let’s leave the family relationships out of the equation. I can think of far worse things than a caring man filling in for an absent lover. So, what’s your answer to my statements?”
In response, he moved his cock quickly the remainder of the way inside her.
“Ooh, I like that answer.”
With that simple, frank proposal, they were suddenly lovers. They began moving with a slow and inquisitive motion.
There had been no courting, no dating, and their bodies were new to each other. Charles moved with gentle, deliberate strokes and Violet’s hips replied back with their own responses. She rubbed her hands over his chest and arms, her body trying to read him in the way a blind woman reads brail. His hands too, were caressing the hips, the back, the shoulders and learning the book of Violet.
Her stop was soon down, and she thrilled at the approving smile as he saw her breasts for the first time in this context. He lifted his lips to kiss her nipple right nipple and…
“Woah,’ he said, laughing and sputtering.
“Oops,” she said, giggling. “I guess you weren’t expecting that. I wasn’t either – not that much. You okay?”
“Yeah,” he said. “That was amazing. It’s sweet.”
“What, you’ve never tasted breast milk before?”
“Well, not that I can remember.”
“How funny,” said Violet. “You can try it again if you like.”
“Are you sure?”
She pulled his face back to her breast and felt the lovely tingle as the milk flowed out. She gasped - she’d never felt a single sexual feeling when nursing the baby, but making love, it was like a different switch was turned in her head. It was surreally erotic, his cock thrusting away within her hungry pussy, his mouth sucking milk out of her.
“Oh wow, do I like that,” she gasped. “Do you?”
“Oh god yes,” said Charles. “This is going to sound weird but – oh, never mind.”
“No, tell me.”
“Well, have you ever swallowed?”
“Charles, is the pope catholic?”
“It seems to me this is the closest a man could ever come to knowing that feeling with a woman. To taste liquid shooting out of her, you know?”
“I guess that makes sense. Proceed.”
They tried that a little while longer and then switched positions, Violet lying on her back.
She moaned at the feel of him sliding into her, at the comforting sensation of a man’s weight upon her. He continued moving with a similar, patient motion that spoke of his skill as a lover, but also of his hesitance with a new partner.
“Charles,” she said, after kissing him softly.
“There’s no need to go slow. I really, really… really need a good fuck right now.”
“Your wish is my command.”
He picked up the pace immediately, pumping into her with a fierce energy. It had exactly the result she’d hoped for.
Her pussy was different. Yes, his cock was different too, but the loving trauma of childbirth had changed things. She actually wasn’t ‘loose’ as all the stories went. She was tighter, if anything, but she was more sensitive in many ways. She certainly was now as Charles worked his full length in and out of her. He took it even further, pulling all the way out before shoving his way back in – her labia seemed to pulsate more with each of those thrusts and then it started.
“Oh Jesus Christ, Charles!” she screamed. “Oh god, oh god, oh god – keep going! I… I…” she could no longer speak as the hugest climax of her life radiated through her body. She could barely breathe and as he kept up the onslaught. The same orgasmic letdown happened and his chest started sliding across hers with more ease, her sweet milk lubricating their two bodies.
“Cum for me now,” she begged him.
He started pounding harder again and was quite near his own climax when she suddenly stopped him.
“Why?” he said, through gritted teeth.
“Protection,” she said.
“Oh,” he chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“Snipped,” he explained. “Over ten years ago.”
“Now <i>that</i> is a beautiful thing,” she said, grabbing his ass and pulling him into her again. “Please fill me up, if you would.”
“I’d be happy to.”
She nearly came again with him, but focused instead on his wonderful climax. She loved the feeling of holding him as he poured his hot cum into her, gasping at the wonderful pleasure of his first woman in years.
“That was good,” she said, kissing him tenderly as they lay in each other’s arms.
“It was,” he murmured, kissing her back. “No regrets?”
She considered his question carefully.
“No,” she said, snuggling into his arm. “You are filling in for Adam around here; I think it is only proper that you do so in all aspects.”
They considered going for round two, but their lovemaking had been so intense they were thoroughly exhausted. Sleeping in the arms of someone else had its own rewards.
Violet woke with her usual Saturday morning engorged pang, and woke with a start, disoriented for a moment.
She glided past her bedroom and grabbed a robe from the door – throwing it around her shoulders but not bothering to tie the belt.
Charles was sitting in the rocking chair with Ian in his arms. He held a finger to his lips and rocked the drowsy Ian back to sleep tenderly. She poured herself a coffee and drank it silently, watching her handsome new lover rock her son to sleep. Pretty soon, Ian’s hand flopped loosely down from where it had been holding Charles’ finger, the sure sign he was down for the count.
While Charles delivered Ian to the nursery, she started to assemble the breast pump – then she hesitated, a wry grin on her face. Stopping what she was doing, she waited patiently for Charles to return. She was happy to see he was also wearing a robe – with nothing below.
“Sit,” she said, pointing to a kitchen chair.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “You’re quite the authoritative one, aren’t you?”
“Oh yes,” she said.
She crossed to him and knelt in front of him. Throwing open his robe, she got the added thrill of seeing his semi-hard member come to full stiffness in the matter of seconds.
“Time to get a better acquainted with my new friend,” she said, eyeing his long shaft hungrily.
“I think you know him pretty well already,” said Charles.
“Oh, not nearly enough. We have so many adventures in store, he and I.”
She started kissing his cock. Starting at the tip and working her way down it with soft kisses. She couldn’t resist for long, though. It had been so long since she’d had the lovely feel and taste of a cock in her mouth. With a flick of her tongue and a part of her lips, she sucked him into her mouth –moaning from the joy of tasting a man again.
She worked him up and down for several minutes and could tell from the sound of his moans and shallow breathing that she hadn’t lost her touch. Her nearly-overflowing tits were still crying out for relief though, so she had to pull hr mouth off sooner than she would have liked.
“Ready for a surprise?”
A mischievous grin was lighting up Violet’s face. She couldn’t wait to see how this next thing worked out.
“Okay?” said Charles, a bit curious at what she had planned.
She lifted her left breast in her hands. Massaging the top with one hand, she squeezed around the nipple and felt the wonderful release of pressure as jets of milk sprayed across Charles’ cock.
“Oh my god,” groaned Charles. “Oh my god, that feels so good, Vi!”
“I thought you might like that,’ she said. She took her right breast now and sprayed and even larger gusher onto his waiting cock and watched him writhe in pleasure some more.
Once the worst of the pressure was relieved, she wrapped her bursting breasts around his shaft and started working him up and down between them. The watery slickness provided by her milk created a sensation unlike any either of them had experienced. She worked him up and down, in and out of her tits in lengthy erotic strokes. He was more than long enough for his cock to pop out above her tits and into her mouth before disappearing back into the wet cradle they created.
“Now this is what I call tit-fucking,” she gasped, enjoying the wonderful experience almost as much as Charles was. Her sensitive nipples brushing against his pelvis, the wet lubrication of his cock sliding in and out – it was something she knew she wanted to repeat many times in the future.
Charles was near cumming several times, but she slowed things down whenever she sensed him on the verge. Finally, she reluctantly said goodbye to this new way of playing. She climbed up to straddle him, resting her feet onto wooden sides of the chair and lowering herself down onto his glistening cock. She moaned with delight as he bottomed out, his wide tip stretching out her hungry interior.
“God I’ve missed that so much,” she whispered into his ear.
“Not as much as I have,” he murmured back.
The time for talk was over. Utilizing the leverage her perch on the chair afforded her, she began moving up and down his wonderful tool with greater and greater speed. She started bouncing up and down on his cock with wild abandon. She used gravity to her advantage, sliding up slowly and then letting her whole body fall with a crash and plunging him further inside of her than she imagined possible. His hands around her waist, her neck, cradling her face as he kissed her – she surrendered to the untempered passion that had been building up inside of her for so many months. For him, it was even longer; years’ worth of lust was simmering inside of his body and this young beauty was stirring hidden emotions and longings that were waking with a startling voracity.
They kept on like this for longer than they could have imagined; neither one aware of the time, the world, of anything other than the other’s body.
“Oh Charles!” she cried. The lifting and plunging had worked their magic, the orgasm began and it was even more intense than the night before.
She could no longer lift herself – the delight surging through her body made it impossible to do anything more than gyrate her hips back and forth slowly as the tremors shook her legs and her body. Charles was somehow able to hold back but the warm spray from her tits onto his chest trigged his own burst of fluid, deep into her womb. As his cock contracted and began pumping volumes of white fluid into her inner recesses, he clamped his mouth over her right breast and drank deeply.
“That’s it, lover,” she whispered. “That’s all for you. All of it.”
His cock kept pumping jizz into her pussy. Her breast kept pumping sweet nectar into his mouth.
As her orgasm subsided, she was struck by a curious image. They were a compact representation of the circular voyage of life. She envisioned his seed pouring into her womb; her body drinking it in hungrily and absorbing it. From there, the life-chain continued and the nourishing ambrosia flowed from her nipples into his mouth, through <i>his</i> body, and returned again to pour into her – and so on.
She came again and again as he drank – his cock continued to spasm longer than he could ever remember. When their monumental orgasm subsided, he removed his mouth from her breast and kissed her tenderly, letting her sip some of her own milk which still danced in his mouth.
“Oh, goodbye,” she whispered when his cock softened and slipped out of her. “See you soon.”
She stood up to get some coffee then looked down and giggled, Charles <i>had</i> drank a lot. Her right breast was visibly a full cup size smaller than the left.
“Now Charles, you need to be more even with your attention in the future. This poor girl over here is feeling neglected.”
He surprised her by bending down and clamping his mouth straight onto the ‘lonely’ breast.
“Still thirsty I see.”
“Mm hmm,” he said, without even lifting his head.
At the same time, he reached down and inserted two fingers deep into her pussy. She groaned happily as he pulled them out and used his own cum as lubrication on her clit.
She’d read about women having orgasms through nipple play, especially when nursing. She’d certainly never felt the slightest hint of desire when Ian was nursing – but being freshly fucked and having a lover attending to her, she quickly understood such stories.
“Oh my god,” she groaned. “Suck harder.”
Charles increased his suction and also his pace on her clit.
“Oh no!” she cried in ecstasy. “Oh fuck, what are you doing?”
She pulled him up to her and clasped her hands around his neck. It was the only way she would be able to remain standing as the climax briskly washed through her. She collapsed onto the couch and he fell on top of her, kissing her softly. She looked down with a grin at feeling a stiff friend pressed against her leg.
“What can I say,” said Charles. “It’s been a long time.”
“I can tell, come here then.”
He slid into her easily, they kissed, and he just started to move when Ian’s cry drifted out of the nursery.
“And back to reality,” she said, as he climbed off of her.
There were four men in her life, she reasoned to herself. Ian, her son; Adam, her husband; Charles, her father-in-law; and finally - her proxy lover who shared a name and body with her husband’s father – but who she put in a very different compartment in her mind.
Day-to-day, she and Charles were living a very lovely and fruitful life. He was still an immense help around home, and had even arranged to telecommute two days out of the week and work a flex-schedule so she might have more time.
She had joined the local branch of the Laleche League – an organization formed to promote breastfeeding, with a natural outgrowth of serving as a support organization for mothers. She volunteered there once a week, donated to the local milk bank, and also attended a weekly meeting for new mothers.
Charles did his work, helped with Ian, and around the house they fell into a very traditional pattern. He helped inside, but mostly tended to the outside and the garden. She was very domestic, more so than she would have expected.
Their lovemaking was both casual and intense. Clothing became <i>very</i> optional inside the house. She loved his admiring gaze and he liked being ready, just in case Ian gave them a chance. It wasn’t a 24-hour fuck session, there were sometimes stretches of days where they didn’t make love due to exhaustion, or scheduling, or Ian – a very lively baby – they would have to settle for a quick kiss or a fondle in passing. Yet, there were other times when their lust built up and they could not deny each other. In the shower, in the kitchen, once in on the patio in a warm summer rain, they became expert and tender lovers to each other.
The milk play was perhaps the biggest surprise. Violet had never imagined it could be so much fun, nor how much it might please a man. There were countless variations, but they always returned to the milk-soaked tit-fucking they’d discovered on their first day. She loved lubing him up with her sweet drink and they would most often finish it of with a spirited cowgirl session where his chest soaked at the moment of climax.
She enjoyed it so much; she caught herself having to hold back on more than one occasion when Adam was able to get to a satellite phone.
“It’s going to be so fun when you get home!” she said once.
“Oh…you know – just, everything. Sex and stuff.”
“You know what I mean. I just can’t wait to have you home, baby.”
Adam coming home: That was the biggest concern for her. She was worried about Charles – though not about his attachment to her. They both had talked about it, and it was clear in their minds and their hearts that this was a temporary arrangement. It was crazy and amazing and mind-blowing, but neither one of them felt more than lust toward each other in terms of a relationship.
That didn’t mean she didn’t love him. He was a wonderful, caring man. She hated to see him alone. How to resolve that situation? That, she wasn’t sure of.
The answer came to her in a weekly meeting. They were going around the circle, sharing stories of breastfeeding difficulties, or exhaustion, or happier experiences. It was going fine until Jonna, a gorgeous woman in her mid-thirties with a 5’11 frame and breasts to match, had an absolute meltdown.
“I’m so stupid,” she cried. “I thought I could do it all. I was tired of waiting, so I went out, found a perfect young stud for anonymous sex, and got pregnant. I was sure I could do it by myself.”
“I can’t!” she wailed. “Ben is ten times more work than I <i>ever</i> imagined. I’m late for work all the time, I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in ten days, I skip a shower most of the time, and even though I’ve got boobs bigger than a porn star – the only man interested in them is two months old and I could be a cow as far as he was concerned!”
She broke down sobbing and was comforted by the other women.
All Violet could do was smile. She had her answer. On the drive home she looked at the calendar and wondered if it was kismet. Two weeks to the day until Adam arrived home.
That Thursday night, she crawled into bed with Charles and gave him the most sensuous kiss she could muster.
“Is everything alright?” he asked.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Make love to me Charles and let’s make this one last.”
They did make it last. It was the most gentle yet intense interlude of their few months together. Even the milk-play was not lustful, but soft and she placed her nipple reverentially into his mouth, squeezing the milk in as he came inside her. He did not know her plans, but when she crawled out of his bed in the early dawn hours, it was for the last time.
Friday dinner arrived. Violet had insisted they not order in, but they go out. She dressed the part in order to distract him, and acted the part of the innocent when the front door rang.
“Would you get that Charles?” she asked.
“Who could that be?”
“Just get it, handsome.”
Charles could only stand their hypnotized by the Amazon beauty waiting in the doorway. Her hair was a bit mussed, there were bags under her eyes, and she was holding her son Ben in a car seat. He noticed none of that. He only saw her soft, brown eyes… and her boobs which pushed up from her casual top (he <i>was</i> a breast man after all.)
Jonna noticed him too. So handsome and confident, with a little bit of gray. Stable. That was the word to describe him. In her life, stable was a very good thing.
“Hi, I’m Jonna,” she said. “I’m here for dinner?”
“Oh, but we were going…” Charles started to stammer, but Violet interrupted him.
“Come on in Jonna, we’ve been waiting.”
Charles and Jonna walked into the kitchen, a bit confused at the situation.
“Sit,” she commanded. “And give me that gorgeous young man. Hi Benny! How are you?”
She removed Jonna’s son from the car seat and placed him on her hip, falling into the instinctive rock and bounce known to all parents.
“Now I’ll explain,” she said. “Charles thought we were going to go out to dinner tonight. Jonna thought she was coming over here for dinner and conversation. Neither one of you was correct. The fact is; the two of <i>you</i> are going out to dinner. I’m staying here and taking care of the boys.”
Both of them started to protest about blind dates, not fair to her to have to watch both kids, and so on. She held up a silencing hand.
“I am going to give you a brief introduction and hopefully make things more clear. Jonna, Charles is a partner in highly successful IT firm. He’s also amazingly handy around the house, helps with every aspect of taking care of a baby, and is one of the most wonderful men I have ever known. I should also throw in he’s had a vasectomy.”
“Hey!” objected Charles, blushing.
“You’ll see where I’m going. Now hush. Jonna is a single, exhausted mother – a breastfeeding mother, I might add (though I’m sure you’ve noticed). She is struggling to make it all work, and is only interested in having the one child. That’s all the information I’m going to give. You two fill in the rest of the blanks yourself. Now go. Go!”
She shooed the two dazed adults out of the house before they even had the chance to voice an argument.
“Oh Jonna?” called Violet as they were getting into the car.
“Is it okay if I feed Ben? I’m guessing you didn’t pump and trust me, I’ve got plenty.”
“What?” said the still confused Jonna. “Oh, sure, go ahead. It’ll give him a different flavor for the night. Try for chocolate.”
The car came back at 9:00 pm. Charles and Jonna didn’t open the front door until about 9:40. When they did, they were flushed like a couple of school kids who’d been necking in the car – which is pretty much what they were, minus the school.
Both of the boys were asleep and Violet was sitting in the rocker with a laptop, busily typing emails.
“Did you kids have fun?” she said, teasingly.
Neither one answered.
“Listen, Vi,” said Charles haltingly. “Jonna was wondering if I’d like to come back to her place for drinks.”
“Or coffee,” offered Jonna. “Coffee, or whatever.”
“<i>Whatever</i> is always good, that’s what I say. You should definitely see her home, young man,”
Jonna gathered up Ben and her things and headed to the car. Charles closed the door and hesitated in the hallway until Violet took his hand.
“Why do I feel like a prize stallion who has just been traded to another farm?” he asked, staring down sheepishly.
“Because that’s sort of what you are,” she said teasingly. “I’m quite the matchmaker though, right? Isn’t she great?”
“She’s amazing. She’s perfect,” said Charles. “Violet, I…”
“Charles, don’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. We needed each other, so ‘thank you’ isn’t even the right phrase.”
“What <i>should</i> I say.”
“How about – goodbye?”
She put he hands around his neck and leaned up to kiss him a final time. They were almost there, but hey both stopped. It already didn’t feel right. Life had moved on.
She kissed him softly on the cheek.
It was only three months since Adam had arrived back home. The honeymoon phase of his return from the long absence still hadn’t worn off and each day he and Violet seemed more in love.
Now it was time for another union. Charles and Jonna had asked if they could use the back yard for their service. The rainy Oregon weather seemed to smile on the union, because the forecast was sunny and warm. Charles and Adam were getting ready in the guest room, tuxedos and all.
“You look good, old man,” said Adam, straightening his father’s bow tie.
“And you do too, son.”
“Dad, can I talk to you about something?”
“Dad, I have a confession to make. When I was sitting out there on the ice shelf, all alone and colder than I’ve ever been – I got this crazy idea in my head.”
“I started thinking that you might be sleeping with Violet.”
“I uh… what a ridiculous…I…” Charles was sputtering.
“Sorry I shocked you, but let’s face it old man, you’re not exactly dead. Jonna can certainly attest to that. I just though, you living in the same house with her - things might happen. Do you know what convinced me I was wrong?”
“The sex. Dad, Violet is absolutely insane – I mean <i>insane</i>. The way she’s been attacking me, the things she’s been doing – I can just tell she’d been saving it up for a year.”
“That’s a very good point,” agreed Charles, breathing an inner sigh of relief.
“But Dad, there’s something else I’ve been meaning to mention. Vi really enjoys…she has a peculiar…she…”
“Milk?” asked Charles, completing the sentence Adam was struggling with.
“How did you know?!” cried Adam, a hint of suspicion in his voice.
“Jonna’s nursing too and you know how women talk. I wonder if Jonna got the idea from Violet. It’s fun, isn’t it?” Charles said, trying to downplay the topic at hand.
“Yeah,” said Adam. “Really fun.”
There was a knock on the door, one of Violet’s friends smiled at them.
“Thank you,” said Adam.
“Well,” said Charles, “I’m glad we got to have this – odd little talk on my second wedding day. Trust me Adam, Vi loves you more than you can imagine. I’m honored I was able to help while you were off changing the world.”
“Well, we haven’t changed it yet, but we might be getting there.” “I’m sure you are.”
Minutes later, Adam and Charles waited at the end of the path, watching their two beautiful women approach to the chords of Pachelbel’s Canon in D.
Later, at the reception, Violet waited for the right moment and caught Charles alone. She carried a clay goblet in her hand.
“I brought this for you” she said, handing him the cup.
“Oh, thanks,” said Charles, taking a sip. He stopped, an embarrassed grin on his face.
“This tastes familiar.”
Violet could barely contain her laughter.
“I just figured, once more for old time’s sake. Now you’ve gotta tell me, whose do you like more?”
“Now Vi, if I’m not a kiss and tell sort of guy – you know I’m not going to answer that question.”
“Oh, come on Charles, you’ve gotta give me something.”
Charles thought it over.
“You’re not just talking about what’s in this cup, are you?”
“No,” she said with a tender smile.
“How about this,” mused Charles. “We all go through different times in our life. Wine Coolers, beer, red wine, white wine. Some are transitional – getting us from one place to the next. “So you’re saying I’m a wine cooler?”
“No,” he said softly. “I’d say you were a rare top shelf, reserve tequila. You were quick, intoxicating - but something that’s only available once in a lifetime and best not to mess with more than once.”
“I’ll take that answer,” she said, kissing him gently on the cheek. “Congratulations Charles, now you get back to your new wife. She’s waiting for you.”
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