"Finally," sighed my wife as she sat - more rather, collapsed beside me. "Becky's asleep."
I smiled indulgingly at her. Becky was just four months old, and already, she was turning my wife's black hairs gray. I knew how much my wife loved Becky, and how much the infant adored her grandmother.
Becky's father had been my son.
Since the accident that claimed her parents' lives, Becky has been living with us, formally adopted into the family as my daughter's child. I was her other legal guardian - a formality necessitated by the laws of Tokyo that required at least two guardians for an infant. Guardian sounds better than 'grandpa', because at forty-three, I don't think I have climbed into that pedestal just yet.
In the next room, I could still hear Helen, my daughter, singing lullabies to the sleeping child. If it had not been for the accident, she would have been singing lullabies to her child - the fruit of her own womb. She had been seven months into her invitro-induced pregnancy when the accident killed her baby. She had been hysterical at first, but Becky, like the ray of sunshine that she was, brought out the mother in her. Becky needed a mother, and Helen needed a baby. It was the perfect arrangement.
"Hi Dad!" my daughter greeted me as she entered the living room. I looked up at my princess, returning her sweet smile. Blonde hair framing her petite face; a slightly plump frame with the curves returning; pink lips and brown eyes. Her eyes had always made me... feel special - there was compassion in them, mixed with a generous dose of love and intelligence. A soft exterior with an even softer interior, that was my daughter.
"Hi, honey! You look bushed."
I took in her attire. She had on a pale pink Kimono, a Japanese robe, that reached down to her knees. What really grabbed my attention, though, was the fact that her breasts were outlined in the material by two dark splotches, causing the robe to hug her mounds. Having recently been suckled, the nipples were still erect, poking against the fabric. The darker shade of her areola was clearly visible through the translucent piece.
Helen noticed my interest in her bosom with an amused expression on her face. I had been staring at the sight for the last few days, and having been caught more than one time too many, I did not have any reservations about the fact that even my wife was aware of it. As she was aware of it now.
I finally dragged my attention away from her breasts. My wife nudged me in my ribs, whispering loudly enough for Helen to hear her words, "Satisfied?"
I smiled sheepishly at her, the outright comment in front of my daughter causing the embarrassment. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my daughter giggling at my predicament. Well, at least she hadn't shouted at me for being so... attentive! I resumed reading the paperback in my hand.
I was conscious of Helen shuffling in her seat, apparently to get into a comfortable position. For an instant, for a brief, tantalizing instant, her nipple peeked out of her dress, but she immediately pulled her robe back over the bud. I went back to the novel.
After some time, Helen stood up, a trace of irritation in her movements. It was obvious that something was troubling her, but before I could ask anything, she went back to her room. Probably had a headache, I told myself.
"Mom!" came the shout, impatient but not desperate. "Can you come here for a moment, please?"
My wife, who had just been about to embark on one of her dreams, woke up with a start. Experience had taught her never to ignore a new mother's call. "Coming, sweetheart."
I watched my wife scurry towards the main bedroom. Our sex life being pleasantly non-existent, we didn't lose much when we moved Helen and Becky into the room. Unlike the guest room, which is where I caught my forty winks, there was plenty of space for the crib and the million other baby stuff. The big bed could comfortably contain two people, and my wife retained her spot in it. As I said, there was no reason to miss anything.
For some time afterward, I could hear sounds coming from the bedroom, words being used for and against some argument, the gist of which I had no idea. 'The Prometheus Deception' of Ludlum was approaching its climax, and like with all other of his books, the suspense was killing me. There is nothing more I hate than being interrupted in the midst of a gripping end to a thrilling novel, and I was fast nearing the end when my wife interrupted my concentration.
"What?" I asked, closing the book in a very eloquent manner. Annie, my wife, winced sarcastically as if I had shouted at her. If it had not been for a sleeping granddaughter, I probably would have...
"Sorry, John. Didn't know Ludlum turned you on so much!"
"What?" I repeated my question more forcefully this time, although a smile was beginning to push through.
"Helen wants a favor."
"Can it wait?"
"Okay." I threw my arms up in resignation. A father's got to do what a father's got to do. "What is it?"
Annie grinned at me. "I knew you wouldn't refuse if it is for Helen."
I grinned back. "At least she doesn't pick on me like my wife."
"I pick on you? My, how you lie - and that too after I let you ogle our daughter's tits!"
"I did not ogle my daughter's... I didn't even get to see them." I wasn't sure if the underlying tone was one of indignation, or one of regret. I suppose it was one of both.
Annie beamed even more at me. The action, I knew from years of living with this loving wife of mine, was the precursor to a punch line. My instincts did not fail me. "Well, here's your chance!"
I blinked at her. Was she serious? Was she offering me, her husband, an opportunity to see my daughter's breasts? Sounded too good to be true, and I told her so.
"John, you doubting Thomas. Hear me out." She paused for emphasis. "Becky is drinking less and less milk these days - no, nothing is wrong with her. She is just growing used to the baby food, that's all. In addition to that, that medicine Dr.Wong gave us is working overtime - as he warned, too much milk, to put it shortly. To top it all, her breast pump stopped working. My guess is it couldn't handle the pressure." Another grin. "So, basically, we need to get her milk out, one way or another, preferably another."
Annie laughed. "You, to be precise."
I pretended not to catch the innuendo in her voice. "Guess Ludlum will have to wait. Okay, so how many breast pumps do you want? Or should I get a water bilge?"
"Don't play dumb with me, husband. I know you too well to fall for that trick."
"I am serious. Honest."
My wife looked at me straight in the eye. "Your mouth, then."
I shook my head. From where I sat, it sure sounded like she had said, to quote, "Your mouth," to me. What a gag! Trying to keep a poker face, I asked her, "Pardon?"
"You heard me - your mouth."
This was not right - I mean, someone gave the wrong script, right? Of all the things to ask me... Milk my daughter, for God's sakes. What a kill!
Annie moved towards me. "I am serious, John. I mean it - you need to help Helen out with this, right now. Her jugs are practically overflowing now, and she is going crazy carrying around all the weight. Besides, you like milk - just think of this as a way of cutting provision costs."
Wait a minute. She WAS serious.
"No way," I protested. "She is my daughter. My flesh and blood. I'm not going to suck on her breasts, no matter how heavy or how saturated they are. It's illegal."
"Yeah, and I'm gonna call the cops when you do it! Be rational, Johnny boy. There is nothing wrong in what you are doing - sheesh, you are acting like I asked you to screw her or something. As if I asked you to make love to our daughter."
I started to shake my head, senses numbing as what she said sunk in. She was deliberately conveying the impression that this was supposed to be more or less permanent. Without waiting for a reply, my wife pulled me up and linked her arm through mine. "No more buts - in fact, I thought I might have to ask you to control yourself when I put forward the idea. What kind of a man are you anyway, that denies such a wonderful opportunity to get the purest milk on the face of the planet?"
I tried to find a suitable comeback, but Annie gave me no time at all, marching me towards what had used to be our bedroom. The momentum carried my feet beyond the door, while Annie tacitly stepped back. Even as I turned around, the door had closed in my face. I heard the distinct click as she locked the door at the other end. "Your daughter needs you," I heard her shout.
Then, her footsteps receded.
"So she talked you into it?" Helen asked.
I whirled around at the sound of her voice - and stopped dead in mid-turn. For she had slid a portion of the robe off a shoulder, revealing an engorged breast, glistening with her milk. Annie hadn't been exaggerating when she said that they were overflowing. I took in a deep breath at the sight of the puffy nipple that graced the top of her tit, the involuntary inhalation not entirely lost on my daughter.
When I finally raised my eyes to her face, she just smiled sweetly at me.
"God," I began to sputter. "What you must think of me... I am sorry it came to this... you must think I am a pervert, or a lecher, or a... you don't want this, right?"
"Maybe," she said, drawing the words out. "Maybe not."
"I mean, yeah, I know it is wrong, but I can't think of another way. These breasts are killing me. And the damn pump isn't working."
"I offered to get another one."
"I heard you, Dad. That was very sweet of you, but I don't think that is an option. This is the third breast pump I used, and the milk still seems to be flowing in gallons. Besides, I just couldn't bear the thought of sending so much milk - my milk - down the drain."
I had objected when my wife had asked me, but now, in the light of Helen's reasoning, I began to wonder. Why not? Any other guy, paternity notwithstanding, would have jumped up at the first available opportunity. I was helping her, and it would be a lot cheaper than stocking up on breast pumps. Not to mention the fact that I get to have extra nutrition. Altogether, a good bargain.
As if sensing my reluctance, my daughter pulled the parting of her robe back over her breast. "I will understand if you don't want to, though."
Her eyes still pleaded with me.
I made my decision. I believed it came a lot easier than it should have, and I was already nodding my head even before she had finished. I flashed my best smile at her, eliciting a very relieved "Thank you, Daddeee!" from my daughter.
I moved over to the bed and sat down beside her. As soon as I had, her arms encircled me, drawing me into a bear hug. I could feel her damp chest press into mine as she kissed my cheeks, little pecks like the one she had given me when she was young. I was aware that in a few minutes' time, those robes would part, and a whole new world would be opened to me. Absently, I turned my face to tell her something.
Thousands of volts coursed through my body as soon as our lips made contact. It was just an accident, and would have been had we pulled away immediately. Instead, we just sat there, unmoving, our mouths doing nothing but keeping in touch. Her eyes were wide open but she made no move to remove her soft lips. We were not kissing, yet it hadn't been a very paternal contact either. I guess the right word would be sensuous. Sensuously erotic.
A minute passed. We were still in the same position, looking into the depths of the other's eyes, seeing yet not seeing, the flashes of desire in them. At the same time, neither of us could move, could not afford to. Finally, we pulled apart.
We looked at each other, the embarrassment written in bold across our faces. Then we laughed, the humor clearing some of the embarrassment. It had been nobody's fault, said the unspoken consensus. We left it at that.
Helen dropped her hands to her sides, apparently wanting me to divest her of her robe. I turned her around so that she faced me, as we squatted on the bed. Slowly, as slowly as I could, I brought my hands up to the cleavage of her robe and parted it slightly. My voice caught in my throat as the flushed skin of her breasts came into view, inch by precious inch. I reached the belt of her robe, she having already tied it after seeing my reluctance, and with a little tug, undid the weak knot.
The robe slid apart, opening up her front part for my admiring gaze. Two firm mounds, heavy and creamy pink, topped by a cherry that was just begging to be eaten. I traced the outline of her dress, lightly brushing against the side of her breasts as my hands moved up. The kimono slid off her shoulder with a slight swish, but that was the only other sound in the room, after my heavy breathing. And hers.
I placed my hands on her shoulder, unashamedly gazing on what was to be my imminent meal. Both breasts were glistening, but one appeared slightly more full than the other. I was conscious that my daughter was staring dreamily at me, her father, looking at her so admiringly. So appreciatively. She brought her arms to the sides of my face.
I met her eyes for that one last time of approval; they answered me with a look that was both loving, and desiring. Her right hand squeezed my earlobe slightly, giving me the cue to move forward. As slowly as I had stripped her, I bent my head and moved towards her right breast. At the last moment, though, I stopped.
"Lie down on your back."
Wordlessly, my daughter reclined on the bed, settling her back over her forgotten kimono like some exquisite Goddess. I followed her in perfect synchronization, her hands never had to leave my face at all. Her head rested on her pillow, the golden hair spreading around as if it were the sun's halo. Framed against white and gold, my daughter looked so beautiful I couldn't believe she was, after all, a human - or my offspring, to boot. The beauty looked so... divine.
"Oh, God, Daddy," she started to moan, "Don't try me... I am waiting." And I hadn't even begun, yet.
My mouth enveloped her right breast, and the result was instantly gratifying. Her body started to shudder with wild abandon as my teeth brushed against the top of her nipples. My tongue lolled out, first tracing the outline of her bud and then moving towards the lower regions of her breast. If I thought the sight of my daughter's breasts had been Heaven, the taste was even more heavenly. Indescribably sweet.
A drop of her milk formed at nipple, and the back of my tongue absorbed it at a moment's notice. Helen moaned again, as waves of pleasure shot through her body, as they shot through mine. The flow was increasing, excited by the body's reaction to her father's touch. The white liquid that was the synonym of purity trailed its way down my throat in small quantities, never ceasing to amaze me with their sweetness. Ordinary milk was going to be plain water, after this...
Pretty soon, the milk came in larger spurts, the body having adjusted to the demands of a grown man instead of an infant. Becky was peacefully sleeping in her crib next to the bed, blissfully unaware that her grandfather was dipping into her source of food. Helen pushed her hands against the back of my head, causing me to squeeze her breast harder and faster. Moans escaped from her lips so loud that for a brief second, I figured Annie would come rushing into the room - and then I remembered that this had all been my wife's doing.
I lost all reservation (as if I still had any!) with that thought. My only regret was that my stuffed mouth couldn't express its happiness as readily as its counterpart on Helen was. I tried to open my mouth once, but the milk started to leak out, and I immediately shut it. Her milk was too precious to waste.
In the midst of this, I felt Helen's body jerk spasmodically. I can't define what it was that I felt - relief, excitement, joy, pleasure... My daughter had actually had an orgasm due to my suckling. Within ten minutes. Up until that moment, I had never felt the satisfaction that I felt then. I was satisfied that I was giving back at least a part of what she was giving me.
After around twenty minutes - I guess it was just twenty - I pulled my mouth out, exhausted, and at the same time, refreshed. My jaw muscles hurt like anything, but the feel of her milk - the scent, the taste of it - offset all the other distractions. I laid down beside my daughter, her hand forming a support for my neck. The air was still electric, and I was extremely aware that my erection was causing quite a sizeable tent in my pants. Helen still had her knickers on, soaked to the skin with her own juices. Her other hand found mine, and we held each other for some time. I realized that I still had one more breast to go; and I was already starting to feel like a lovesick puppy.
"Finished, so soon?"
I turned my head to look into my daughter's smiling face. Her eyes still had that wistful look, but her voice was bright and cheerful, reflecting the same intensities that I was feeling. I pulled my arm up, putting it over her head in a protective manner. Helen snuggled to me, her face resting near my armpit.
I smiled back at her. "Just catching a break." I had no intention of finishing anytime soon,
"Good. Because my left breast is the one you really need to empty."