"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."
.... There is more of this story ...