Chapter 4: Resumption

George Foster watched Sylvia nurse Kimberly in the fall of ‘72. It was such a joy to see his daughter that he didn’t even mind her occupying what had been his playground. Kim was so tiny, but so perfect. Fingers as thin as toothpicks but equipped with joints and nails just like his own. (Well, the nails were sharper, what did you expect with them so tiny?)

“You know, George,” Sylvia teased, “I never knew that a man could beam and ogle at the same time.”

That was unfair. Sure, the breast under Kimberly’s mouth was sexy. Sure, he’d sucked there himself, and enjoyed it. But he hadn’t been thinking about that. “Kim is just so sweet. I was really beaming at both of you.”

“Sure. This is what boobs were designed for, really. Your fun was just a byproduct.”

“Strange. I could have sworn you got a little fun out of it, too.”

“Moi? Where did you get that idea?”

Well, they couldn’t act out their mutual attraction while Sylvia was recovering from the delivery. Somehow, that led to more erotic talk than they used when action was available. “Could it have been when you held my head there? Nah. Could it have been when you gasped? Nah. Must have been when you pulled my hands to your breasts.”

“Well, maybe a little fun,” she admitted.

“Yep. It was when you turned me over on my back and mounted me that you got your real fun.”

“Not really. I enjoyed the times that you were on top of me, too.” Then she brought them back to parental mode. “Wanna burp?”

Kim was so tiny, and so warm against his shoulder. Then he put her in her crib and joined Sylvia in bed. They were no longer in parental mode, if not yet lovers.

He could remember the first days in Boston so long ago. Back then, they’d only made out. In those times, though, he had to remove a lot of clothes before he could reach her cunt. And, in those times, her breasts had been available. Now Sylvia’s nipples were sore. Between the unavailability of her breasts and the unencumbered -- if limited -- availability of her cunt, making out with his lawfully wedded wife these days seemed dirtier and less romantic than making out with Sylvia Jennings back then.

But she was still a sexy woman. She stiffened under his hand. He could see the waves take her, even if he wasn’t at the epicenter to feel them. “Oh, Sylvia,” he said at the sight ... and at the memory.

After a few minutes of cuddling, she reached for him. This was something they hadn’t done in Boston. They’d been college students, and making out hadn’t lasted many dates before they had gone to bed. Now, though, Sylvia stroked his cock. The touch was gentle, feather light over the most sensitive part. She was so much gentler to him than he was to himself. He wanted to hold himself back to experience this delight, but he was too tightly wound. Sylvia still needed her rest, too. He grabbed a Kleenex to catch his eruption.

She kissed his mouth before turning off the light and lying down on her side. After he’d recovered his energy, he cuddled around her. She pressed back against him as he dropped off.

Watching Kim was always a treat. Watching Kim nurse included the treat of seeing Sylvia’s breasts -- fuller than they had ever been before. When they’d finished, Sylvia asked, “Burp her, will you?” Gladly. At the risk of a little of the spit getting on him, he had a warm body pressed against his chest.

When he’d finished caring for the daughter, he joined the mother in bed. He kissed Sylvia, stroked her, petted her cunt. She started to stiffen under his hand, and he could tell that she was nearing her peak. His own excitement climbed feeling hers. Then she pushed him away.

She could have told him if he’d been too rough! But, instead of speaking, she rummaged under her pillow. Then she dropped back in the bed beside him and handed him something. It was a Trojan! “Happy birthday,” she said.

“It isn’t my birthday,” he said holding on tight.

“All right, then.” Her grab for the packet was perfunctory.

Between watching her nurse, playing with her cunt, and now picturing his first fuck in weeks, he was primed already. “Let me put it on. If you do it, I’ll erupt.”

He did put the Trojan on, avoiding as much contact as possible with the sensitive point at the bottom of the head. She watched, then spread her legs in silent invitation. He got into position and kissed her. Then he watched her face while he moved inside that familiar warmth. She didn’t look like the invasion had hurt. Instead, she hugged him. She grabbed his butt before holding him about the waist. “Welcome back,” she said. And he was back where he wanted to be.

But he was losing it, hoping that she was coming along as well. The smooth warmth all along his cock, every move that she made and word that she spoke to welcome him, ratcheted his tension higher. He drove in and out strongly, more strongly than he should considering her recent delivery.

Then he thrust in very hard and spurted into that warmth. She hadn’t joined him, but she did hug him as he lay upon her.

“Sorry!” he said when he’d recovered. He moved beside her and kissed her while his hand returned to her cunt. It didn’t take her long. She was so tolerant, more tolerant than he deserved in general, infinitely more tolerant than that last performance had deserved. He kissed her hairline. Then, when her breathing was recovered, they settled into the spoon. Could he get it up in the morning? Well, he’d try.