When I broke the kiss to breathe, Bob kissed a line down my shoulder and my arm. He skipped from there to my stomach. I couldn't blame him for ignoring the breasts that he used to adore. They leaked now, and were sticky from the newest Brennan's spit. He certainly paid enough attention to my thighs, however. I was panting and writhing in desire by the time he reached their juncture.

"Are you glad to have all of me back?" I asked. First, my uterus had been displaced enough by the pregnancy to make vaginal intercourse painful. We took expedients to get around that, but what had been fun as foreplay and variations became a drag as necessities.

Then, while I was still in the hospital after the delivery, I had 'minor surgery' to correct that. If that was minor, I hope to never experience 'major surgery.' What with one pain and another, I didn't even want hugs for a few days.

Now, however, my desire was back full force. Bob's had never abated. Even Dr. Gupta had given her permission. Not that we had waited for it.

Bob gave me a prolonged kiss before answering, "Not quite all." I was astonished that anything distracted him in that position. "The Kitten has displaced her daddy from his favorite playground."

"And now I'm all messy. I'm sorry."

"Jeanette," he said, "messy doesn't have a thing to do with it."

"I've seen you look away in disgust."

"The only disgust is with myself. I'm jealous. Of a little baby. Of my own daughter. Your nipples hurt sometimes; I know they do. But you nurse her because it is best for her." Well, that is certainly one reason. "And all I can think about is how much I'd like to be in her place."

"Really?" Bob didn't think of me as a mess?

"Really!"

"Come here." Bob didn't have to be asked twice. He began licking all over one breast, the one that Baby Catherine had used last. He was really gentle when he reached the nipple. That tickled me, but it also excited me. His hand cupped my groin. The conversation had brought me down from my excitement, but Bob's expression of desire added fuel to the physical sensations. His hand kindled a fire in my loins.

His lips grew more insistent on my breast. I could feel the milk begin to flow. "Oh," said Bob. "So sweet!" He licked once before returning to suck. I could feel my tension building.

I don't think either of us would have noticed a brass band just then. A pianissimo "wah," however, froze us. We each held our breath hoping she would go back to sleep. "Wah," forte, got Bob clambering off the bed and started my breasts flowing. A fortissimo "WAAAH!" rattled the windows before Bob managed to muffle Catherine with a pacifier. We'd put her in the living room closer to the apartment's one air conditioner.

"Yes, Kitten. You'll be fed. But you'll be much more comfortable dry. Off comes one diaper. Ugh!" Bob talked the whole time until he brought her in to me. She managed to lose the pacifier on the way and was starting to cry again before she got the real thing. Bob left us to put the diaper into the bucket and to find the lost pacifier.

Her father's daughter, The Kitten cheered right up as soon as she could suck on a nipple. She was contentedly half asleep before Bob got back. (When we had broached the idea of naming the baby after Bob's mother Katherine, Bob's sister had reservations. "Don't ever call her 'Kate, '" Kathleen had written. We had settled on "Catherine" for a name and "Cat" for a nickname. But Cat had been so tiny that she became "The Kitten.")

"She seems happy enough, now," Bob commented. As he stood there watching us, his erection began to recover.

"I was just thinking that she is her father's daughter."

"Now, love, I don't really scream until somebody comes and brings me clean clothes or food."

"No. But let her suck on a nipple, and she is happy."

"Yeah. But I don't scream because she gets to suckle." He was smiling though. "I brought some wash cloths, we'd better clean off my germs. Should you do it or should I?"

"I should. Luckily," I said as I began wiping, "you kept to the one she used last."

"Luck had nothing to do with it my dear. The other one was slightly fuller." I can feel a difference, but not see one. But, then, Bob looks at my breasts far more carefully than I do.

"Go ahead, Kitten," he continued. "Daddy will get his turn. In fact, do you think that you'd let Mommy turn on her side?" This was easier said than done. While I have often nursed The Kitten while lying on my side, turning is another matter. Her daddy lent us each a hand, and we managed. Totally unappreciative of the help, she clamped on as if we were fighting to tear her away from her nourishment.