Storiesonline.net ------- Chrissy's Little Mistake by Lubrican Copyright© 2009 by Lubrican ------- Description: Pregnancy changes a woman. That's no gem of wisdom, in and of itself, but pregnancy also changes the way a man perceives a woman. When a man sees a pregnant woman, he can't help but reflect on the proof that she is, or at least has been, sexually active. And really KNOWING a woman has been sexually active can impact the way a man looks at a woman. Sometimes that goes for the woman's father too. Codes: Mf cons reluc het inc oral pett lac preg slow ------- ------- Chapter 1 "Daddy?" I was sitting at the computer, finishing up some work. I turned to look at Chrissy, my seventeen year old daughter and one of the lights of my life. Her brother, Bobby, was the other one. He was in his eighth week of basic training at Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, in what he called the scenic Ozarks in the one phone call he'd been allowed so far. He said he'd finally found that place everybody talks about where you can't see the forest for the trees. The locals all called it "Fort Lost-in-the-woods." "What's up, pumpkin?" I asked. She looked worried. In fact, now that I looked at her more closely, she appeared to have been crying. "What's wrong?" I asked, worriedly. Parents always fear the worst for their children and since Marie had left us to "find herself" I was doing double duty in the parent department. "I think I made a mistake," she said, her voice sounding very young. "OK," I said. I had images of her having broken something. I just waited for her to go on. "Please don't hate me, Daddy," she pleaded. "I might get mad, Chrissy, but you know I could never hate you." "Maybe you could," she said. A tear ran down one cheek. "Just tell me, baby," I urged. Her fists clenched, and then released. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Finally she blurted it out. "I think I might be pregnant." ------- As I said, parents always fear the worst. Usually, the 'worst' involves some horrible disease, or drugs, or prison or something that unalterably changes a promising life into something more along the lines of a trial. But this one caught me off guard. I mean I knew she was a vibrant young woman, not gorgeous, but awfully attractive ... in ways a father isn't really supposed to view her. And while there had always been an undercurrent of uneasiness in my thoughts since she'd started looking more like a woman than a girl, I knew she was sensible with boys. We'd had several conversations about boys. OK, I'd given her several lectures about boys. But she'd taken them pretty well. I suddenly remembered one such time when her response had been "I know what boys want, Daddy, and I know how to handle them. Don't worry." Of course I had still worried. I wasn't happy that it turned out I had been justified in that concern. "You think you might be pregnant," I said. Denial is always the first step. "I missed my period last month," she said, her voice trembling. "And I'm late again now." I remembered how Marie had acted when she got pregnant both times. "Nausea in the morning?" I asked. She looked at me peculiarly. "No." "Any vaginal discharge? Are your breasts tender?" Her cheeks stained red. At least she wasn't crying any more. "Daddy!" she moaned. I raised my eyebrows. "No," she finally said. "I'll call the doctor," I said. "No, Daddy! I don't want anybody to know!" "Sweetheart, believe me, if you're pregnant, in a couple more months everybody's going to be able to tell. This isn't something you can keep secret." She slumped. "I know. It's just that..." She trailed off. I was surprised at the fact that I felt sorry for her ... kind of. I mean it takes two to tango. That led to the realization that she had ... tangoed. I looked at her again, this time with male eyes instead of Daddy eyes. At five-six or seven she looked a little taller because she had the slim body of the cross country runner that she was ... had been. She bought her own clothes, and did her own laundry so I didn't know her sizes, but I estimated her to be maybe thirty-four or a little bigger in the bust. Her breasts rode high on her chest. Standing there in jeans and a T shirt her legs looked long and slim. There was nothing about her appearance that suggested she was with child. Her hair was down now, though she often had it up in a pony tail. "Who's the father?" I asked, eager to find out who I was going to have to kill. "I can't tell you," she said. She looked scared again. "Can't ... or won't?" I didn't want to even think about the possibility that she didn't know, but it was one of the options and couldn't be ignored. She dithered again and the tears were back. "Won't ... I guess," she said. "But you know," I said. The inference that she might not know was clear. She looked surprised and then something like shock or maybe anger flitted across her face. "I'm not a slut, Daddy!" she yipped. "Well that's good," I said. I wasn't sure exactly how I felt, to be honest. "I only did it once," she complained. "Once is all it takes," I said. "I seem to remember saying that, one time or another." "I knoooow," she moaned. "It was an accident. Things just got crazy and it just sort of happened." "I seem to remember telling you about that too," I said tightly. That's what had happened with Marie and me too, though I hadn't told our children that. When Marie told me she was pregnant I did the right thing, which turned out to be the wrong thing. Marie and I were never really in love. We tried, but you can't force that kind of thing. That brought to mind another question. "Do you love him?" Yet another question popped into my mind. "Does he love you?" Then I realized both were stupid questions. How would they know? Whoever he was they were both too young to know whether what they felt was really love or simply lust. "Yes," she said. She said it with that firmness youth have when they think they know what they're talking about. Of course in reality they are probably clueless. "Well, I guess we'll see about that," I said. "Have you told him?" "No." Now there was a wary edge in her voice. "Aren't you going to get mad and yell at me?" "Trust me, pumpkin," I said wearily. "That won't make you un-pregnant." I sighed. My daughter must have heard something unsaid because she backed up. "I won't get an abortion, Daddy." I didn't know how to feel about that either. I hadn't even thought of that until she brought it up. I knew I SHOULD think about that, but the concept wasn't attractive to me on the face of it. There would be time to think about that later, if need be. "First, let's find out if you really are pregnant," I said. "We can decide what to do after that." "I won't get an abortion, Daddy," she said again. I already knew she'd inherited her mother's gene for stubbornness. I also knew that she had a lot of thinking to do ... whether she was pregnant or not. We both did. ------- She was pregnant. The doctor delivered the news in a peculiarly flat and unemotional voice, like he was trying to be as neutral as possible. He looked at Chrissy. "You're in good health. You'll need to come back for regular checkups, depending on what you decide to do. "I'm not getting an abortion," she said firmly. "Tell the nurse I want to see you again in two weeks," said the doctor, without blinking an eye. "She'll have some pamphlets for you about vitamins and exercise and a proper diet. Read them, Chrissy. This is a stressful time in your life and it can affect your health ... and the health of the baby. Your job for the next seven months is to take care of yourself and your baby." He looked her straight in the eye. "I will," she said, seeming to relax. ------- It was very quiet on her side of the car as we drove home. Actually, it was pretty quiet on my side too. It was beginning to sink in. I was going to be a grandfather. At thirty-six I was going to be a grandfather. It didn't make me feel any better that I'd actually be thirty-seven when he or she actually made an appearance. I looked over at Chrissy. "You sure you want to do this?" She looked back and her eyes glistened. "Yes, Daddy. I have to have this baby." "You need to tell the father," I said, wishing I didn't have to say it. I hated the little bastard who had done this to my little girl. I hoped he choked on the next French fry he crammed in is mouth. "I can't," she said. The tightness was back in her voice. "He can't do anything about it." I had a horrifying thought. "Don't tell me he's married," I groaned. "He's not married!" she said quickly. "Then why can't we tell him?" I moaned. "Help me out here, Chrissy!" "I can't, Daddy," she said softly. "You have to trust me." "I have to trust you," I repeated angrily. "Isn't that what I've been doing the last four or five years? I trusted you not to get pregnant, didn't I?" "Please, Daddy," she said. I could hear sobs building up inside her. I thought about what the doctor had said. All I was doing was adding to her stress level. "OK, pumpkin," I said, trying to force myself to relax. "I love you, no matter what happens. We're in this together." She did cry then, but it was the good kind of crying. I actually felt a little better. Little did I realize how prophetic my words were. I did love her. And we'd be in it together in ways I had no concept of. Not then, anyway. ------- It's kind of strange when you're trying to prepare for your whole world to change, but the change comes so slowly. It was different, somehow, than when Marie and I had been waiting for her to give birth. Maybe that's because Marie was supposed to have a baby. In her case, the anticipation was part of the fun. But Chrissy wasn't supposed to have a baby. Not yet. So for the first couple of weeks or so there was still some tension between my daughter and me. She took the doctor's instructions both literally and seriously. She checked out books at the library and spent a lot of time on the internet getting educated. She started eating better, which meant I started eating better too. As a CPA I ran my business from home. I could pretty much work when I wanted to, unless it was tax time. It was July, though, so the crush was over and I could take it easy for a while. About a week after the doctor's visit she came into my home office again. She was dressed for a run. "I need somebody to run with me," she said. "Bobby was doing it to get ready for the Army, but now he's gone and I'm tired of running alone. Will you come with me?" "You're going to run?" I asked skeptically. "In your condition?" "My condition," She stressed the second word "doesn't prevent me from doing any of the things I'm used to. Not yet. The experts say that you should keep doing the things you normally do, including exercise. You're out of shape, Daddy. You should come with me." "Why would an old man like me want to publicly embarrass himself by lurching along, gasping for air, looking like I'm chasing after a cute young girl?" I asked. "I'll take it easy on you," she said. "Come on. I don't want to run by myself. You said we were in this together." There it was. She was testing me. We still hadn't said more than half a dozen sentences about the fact that she was a woman now, whether she wanted to be or not. My grandchild was developing in that barely pooching belly of hers and she was taking him (I don't know why I decided it was a him, but I did, ) along for the ride. And she wanted grandpa along for the ride too. "Do you know CPR?" I asked, standing up. She laughed. "You're not THAT old, Daddy." "Tell it to the coroner," I groused. I got changed and off we went. ------- It turned out we were able to 'talk' about things while we ran. I suspect that's because she would have had no trouble reciting the Gettysburg address while she ran. I, on the other hand, husbanded every breath. That meant I stayed silent, for the most part. Maybe she knew that would happen. "I love this baby," she said after the first half mile. She really was taking easy on me, just loafing along while I stretched every ligament in my legs trying to keep pace with her. "That's good," I huffed. "And even though I can't tell you about the father, I love him too," she said. "He means almost as much to me as you do." "Great," That took all the air I had, but it was on the way out of my lungs anyway. "And I love you for sticking by me, Daddy," she said, looking over at me. "I love you more now than ever before." "So when ... are you ... going ... to tell ... your mother?" I gasped. That took thirty feet to get out, so I left out the part about how her mom, once she got over being furious, would probably help too. "Don't know," she answered easily. "Did you know she told me not to get married until she was at least fifty." "Kidding," I gasped. "Nope," she said. "She said not to make her a grandmother until then." "Nice." I hoped it sounded as sarcastic as the thought that produced it. "It's really hard for me to love Mom right now," she said. "She really turned into a bitch." "Not fair," I panted. She slowed. "You're kind of red in the face. Let's stop and do some sit-ups." I wanted to stop. I looked around. We'd gotten exactly six blocks. Half a mile and I was dying. But the thought of all those muscles cradling my grandson jerking around while she did sit-ups was bothersome. "Sit-ups good?" I said in what would have sounded like pidgin English to a casual observer. "Would you stop worrying?" she said. "I did my homework. Sit-ups are fine for a long time yet. You're just not supposed to start doing things you never did before." She picked a grassy area and stopped, lying down and telling me to hold her ankles. I was all for that, because it involved not moving a lot. I got in to position and she started smoothly sitting up and then lowering herself back down in a measured, easy cadence. Her running shorts were loose. She wasn't wearing anything under them. I discovered this when, completely innocently, I glanced at the area of my daughter's body that had so recently, relatively speaking, been trespassed upon. There it was, in all its bare glory. Just looking at those tight closed pussy lips, under a fringe of hair that was decidedly darker than her head hair, you couldn't tell that some little prick's ... well ... prick ... had slid between them, only to spurt a baby into her sweet, young belly. It was good she was counting, because if she'd been talking I wouldn't have heard a thing she said. I felt bad, staring at my daughter's sexual opening, until I rationalized that it had already been seen by another male, who got a lot closer to it than I was. That brought on completely unwanted visions of her, lying on a bed somewhere, with a faceless guy on top of her, his butt rising and falling. I had the sudden realization that I hadn't worn anything under my shorts either. I hadn't owned a jock strap since college, and who wears boxers under gym shorts, you know? I had this realization as I felt fresh air caressing my stiff cock. Now when had THAT happened? The epiphany that I'd gotten hard looking at my own daughter's pussy about laid me low. It was embarrassing, more than anything. I didn't feel like a pervert, exactly. I mean those pussy lips HAD been involved in having sex! And part of me WAS just plain male. And she DID have a pretty pussy. Her hands came off of the back of her head and went down behind her to hold herself up. "Your turn," she said. I managed to adjust things so that my traitorous penis was lying on my belly as I got into position. During the first three sit-ups it occurred to me that my shorts were kind of loose too, but she was looking at my face, counting for me since I wasn't doing any counting myself. I sat up a grand total of eight times before my stomach muscles rebelled. I didn't go up smoothly either. I sort of lurched up and then flopped back, thumping onto the grass until I couldn't lurch any more. "You're in terrible shape, Daddy," she scolded me. "We're going to have to do this a lot more. "I'm not having a baby," I complained. "True," she said, standing up and staring down at her pitiful father. "But you said we're in this together." I rolled to my side and staggered up. She grabbed my elbow and helped me. For the next half mile she ran circles around me. I mean literally. She ran in circles while I ran straight. It was all "You're doing good, Daddy!" and "Keep going, Daddy!" and "We're going to get you in good shape, Daddy!" About the time I was ready to snap at her I realized the house was up ahead. She'd taken us around some route she knew. When we got to the yard she started running in place. "I'm going to go another couple of miles," she said, still not breathing hard. "You need to get in a hot bath and soak." "Who's the parent here?" I groused. "I am," she said promptly. She patted her belly. "Or I will be. I'm just practicing." She grinned at me. "Do what I said. You'll feel better and you won't be as sore." "Yes Ma'am," I sighed. Then she was off, and this time she was really running. I'd seen her run during meets, of course, but it was different after having run with her. That girl could run, let me tell you that. ------- That became the pattern for us. She ran every day, but started me out on an every other day schedule. She ran me until she could see I needed a break and then we did sit-ups, or maybe a few pushups. I felt better when I could do more of those than she could, but I shouldn't have been surprised, really. I had the muscle. I had just let it get all flabby. I know you're wondering if I kept sneaking peeks at her. OK, I did. She never wore anything under her shorts. And I'm a man, so sue me. I only peeked. It's not like I was doing anything other than looking. OK, I masturbated when we got home. There. I admit it. I have to explain something here. I've always been turned on by a pregnant woman. There's something about such women that fires up the part of me that wants to reproduce. And if a woman is pregnant, that is prima facie evidence that she wants to reproduce too. I know it sounds silly, but the only women you can just look at and KNOW have welcomed a man between their legs are the pregnant ones. I suppose you could say that about any mother too, though it's not quite as obvious. At least to me. Maybe that's what fires up all those MILF lovers. So it wasn't odd that the more Chrissy showed, the more often I ended up with an unwelcome erection. She was so full of joy about her impending motherhood, and she had that glow that you hear about pregnant women having. She was vivacious, and sexy, and before long I no longer blamed whoever the son of a bitch was who knocked her up. I mean if I hadn't been her father I couldn't have resisted her either. Well, you know what I mean. Anyway, that's why I didn't feel so horribly bad about masturbating after seeing my daughter's obviously fucked pussy. The first burp in the happiness that settled over our household was when Bobby called and gave me the date of his graduation from advanced individual training, at the end of boot camp. He had signed up to be a military policeman, for who knows what reason, and was all gung ho and grown up sounding. He wanted us to come to his graduation. When I told Chrissy, she wasn't happy. "I can't go," she said. She looked unhappy for the first time in weeks. She was then four months pregnant. You could tell if she wore something tight, but in loose clothes she could still pass for un-pregnant. "You didn't tell Bobby yet, did you," I suggested. "No, and I can't." "Why not? He's not going to yell at you any more than I did," I said. "He's got things on his mind already," she said. "I don't want him worrying about me while he's trying to get through school." "Why would he worry about you?" I asked. "He knows I'm here taking care of you." "I just can't tell him, OK?" She sounded angry, but she looked pale. "You don't understand." "You're afraid he'll go AWOL and come home and go looking for the father," I said. "Now that he's almost an MP maybe you're right." "Yes," she said. "And he'd get in all kinds of trouble. You go. School's about ready to start. Just tell him that I had to start school and couldn't come." "His graduation is this Friday. School doesn't start for another week," I pointed out. "He won't know that," she said. "Just tell him I love him and I'm proud of him." "OK," I said, with some reserve. "You're going to have to tell him sooner or later, you know." "I'll deal with that when it happens," she said. It was amazing how she could be so grown up about all this in some ways, and so much of a little girl in others. But this was part of the deal, and she was right that he'd worry about her. ------- Chrissy thought she had all the bases covered by swearing me to secrecy. And I kept the secret when I went to possibly the hottest, muggiest place on the face of the earth and watched my son graduate. He graduated with honors, which I didn't understand the significance of, but then I expected him to do well anyway. It was the change in his physical appearance that was the most shocking. He looked taller somehow, though I knew he couldn't have grown taller in just sixteen weeks. He had the appearance of a man who spent a lot of time outdoors, with tanned skin and sun-bleached hair. He also looked like a young lion, broad shouldered, confident, ready to take on anything. He was a man now, and it was obvious. What was funny was that he noticed the improvement in MY condition. "Man, Dad," he said when he waded through the crowd of well wishers to where I was standing. "I almost didn't recognize you. What's Chrissy been feeding you? Where is she?" He looked around. "She had to start school," I lied. "She said I have to tell you she loves you and that she's sorry she couldn't be here. She's also proud of you. She's been making me run with her," I said. "And our diet is better." "That explains it," he sighed. "I know what it's like trying to keep up with her on a run." He laughed an exuberant, happy laugh. "I can't wait to get home. She's never going to see it coming until I smoke her. I can run eight miles now, and maintain it at six minutes a mile. For once I'm going to leave her in the dust." "Get home?" I was confused. "I get leave before I have to report in to my new duty station," he said. "They're sending me to Fort Lewis Washington. I get two weeks off. All I need to do is pick up my gear and you can take me home." ------- Chapter 2 While I was driving Bobby home I still kept the secret. I don't know why, since it was going to bust wide open the instant he saw her. Or the instant he hugged her, anyway. When she gave me a hug nowadays there was obviously something pressing against my stomach. But I'd told her she was going to have to tell him sooner or later. I guess it was going to be sooner. On the way I heard all about basic and what he called A.I.T. It was different than I had thought it would be. They got a lot less law enforcement than I expected, and a lot more security type instruction. His appetite hadn't suffered. While I avoided fast food these days, he was ravenous for it. We stopped at a Sonic and he ordered three entrees off the menu, with what looked like heaps of tater tots and a 44 ounce drink. He ate while I drove. I don't think there was anything left after about ten miles. ------- I had my cell phone with me, but I guess it just never occurred to me to call Chrissy and warn her Bobby was coming home. When I pulled in the driveway it was after midnight, and there were no lights on in the house. I was pretty bushed. I guess I assumed Bobby would see her ... and find out ... the next morning. That's not quite how it worked out. I had just gotten in bed when Chrissy screamed "BOBBY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" There was some shushing sounds and then the hallway lit up a little bit as somebody turned on a light. I guess he'd left the door open when he went in to wake her up and tell her he was home. His voice was the next thing I heard. "What the fuck?" It was a very strained, loud, but at the same time he was obviously trying to be quiet. Then a little louder "Why didn't you TELL ME?" I heard Chrissy's voice and winced. I'd told her she'd have to face this. "Fuck, Chrissy!" came Bobby's voice, again trying to be quiet, and failing. It was the next thing he said that made me sit up in bed: "What are we going to do?!" You know how something happens that doesn't make sense, and you know it should make sense, but it just doesn't and there's nothing you can do to figure it out? Something about the way he said that just turned a light on in my brain and illuminated everything. I didn't like what I saw, because in that light that faceless male who had plagued my dreams ... the one hunched over my baby girl, getting her pregnant ... turned out to be my son. I just knew it, somehow. I didn't want to believe it, but there was that note in his voice that just said it. What are "we" going to do? He should have said "What are YOU going to do." I had no idea what to do. I knew I SHOULD get up and go confront them. But what if I was wrong? You can accuse your kids of a lot of things and get away with it ... but accusing them of incest? I knew that would turn out badly. In fact, either way it was going to turn out badly. And, to be honest, I just didn't want to know right then. I was in shock. So I didn't get up. I should have. I don't think I slept at all that night, as tired as I was from the trip. I'd had some clues. Maybe you, the reader had already figured it out by now. But it just wasn't something I'd contemplated. I contemplated the hell out of it now. They'd always been close. They didn't fight and feud like a lot of siblings do. And when Marie had taken off, they'd sought comfort in each other's company. I'd known that ... I just didn't know how MUCH comfort they'd sought. I spent some time trying to convince myself I should have known, somehow. Then I went through a period of doubt. What if that closeness I'd seen simply meant that, like me, Bobby considered himself as just being in this with her. He was her brother, and he felt responsible for making sure she was all right. How could I have just assumed the worst? I spent a lot of time that night thinking about what a pathetic father I'd been ... was. Then, about five in the morning, I realized two things. The first was that Bobby hadn't stormed into my room wanting to know why I hadn't told him. The second was that I didn't hear the front door slam as he left the house to go find the son of a bitch who had knocked up his sister, and kill him. Those two little facts solidified my suspicions, but by then hours had passed, and it was too late to do any kind of confrontation that would do anybody any good. ------- I must have dozed, because when I opened my eyes the sun was up. I felt like shit. I got up at the insistence of my bladder and looked at the wreck in the mirror when I was done. I didn't even have the urge to shave. I wondered if they were still in the house. Then I panicked as I thought about the possibility that they'd fled together, to avoid my wrath. I didn't feel very wrathful. My state of mind was more in the realm of confusion than anger. Several times during the night I thought about how, over the last couple of months when I got the chance, I stared at my daughter's pussy. True, Bobby had done more than look ... but how big a difference was it really? I'd gotten hard for her. I'd had some fantasies as I jacked off, replacing that faceless man with myself. When I entered the kitchen I know I must have been a little wild-eyed. I was a bit frantic, fearing that I'd lost both my kids. But Chrissy was standing at the stove, cooking something, just like it was a normal day. Bobby was sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, reading the paper. A sound of agonized relief came from my throat and they both looked over at me. Maybe it was the look on my face. Maybe they just wanted to get it over with. For whatever reason Bobby stood up and just said "Dad, I'm the one who got Chrissy pregnant." Just like that. I know I stood there looking stunned, but the absolutely outrageous thing was the REASON I was so stunned. I'd spent the last two months hating the man who got my daughter pregnant. I'd had a basically sleepless night of torture as I contemplated accusing my kids of incest. Never mind that there are a dozen or more cultures in the world that are just fine with that behavior. Ours wasn't one of them. But the REASON I was stunned at that moment was because I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. It was very complicated, now that I think back on it. Part of the relief, as I said before, was because they were both still there. But the complicated part was that I was relieved that it had been Bobby who she had parted her legs for. I loved Bobby, and I loved her, and it was impossible in those few moments to hate either of them. It was impossible even to be unhappy with them. Later on I'd worry about things that everybody worries about when incest produces a baby, but at that moment in time I was elated that it was Bobby's baby in that gently swelling belly, instead of some stranger's. Which explains why I blurted "Good!" ------- I don't know how much later it was that I fully came to my senses. There was a lot of noise going on in that room. Somehow we had all come together in a group hug, and all three of us were talking at the same time. We were all crying too. It was a surreal kind of situation to find one's self in, and I'm sure they both felt that way too. At any rate, eventually a sort of halting story came out. He'd been getting ready to go off to basic training. She was worried about him. His girlfriend had broken up with him, angry that he was leaving her for the Army. Chrissy was scared that something would happen to him. He probably was too, though he'd never have admitted it. So they were both strung out emotionally and a hug had turned into something wild and passionate as each tried to express the depth of feeling for the other. He'd kissed away her tears and, at some point in the process, his lips had brushed hers. They were overwhelmed with feelings that demanded more until suddenly they were on the bed and their clothes were coming off. Afterwards they tried to make sense of what they'd done. He'd taken her virginity. At the time she hadn't cared. In the aftermath they felt guilty, but at the same time it had been undeniably precious to both of them. Neither had had time to process the storm of emotion because Bobby had left the next day. I remembered the mood in the house that morning, as I got ready to take him to the airport. I'd had my own feelings to deal with as I sent my son off to an unknown future. I'd completely missed that part of the somber mood that was the result of lovers torn apart. Finally the surge of emotions began to wane and we were left there in the kitchen with a big invisible question mark filling the room. What was going to happen now? ------- Society puts expectations on its citizens. As a result, the citizens put expectations on themselves. It's all supposed to affect behavior. Then things like love, passion, imagination and even hormones have an effect on behavior that conflict with societies expectations. It can make for a tumultuous life. A lot of it depends on how seriously you take society's strictures. Or maybe it's more to do with whether or not you think you can stay below society's radar. The next two days were a little like trying to tiptoe barefoot across a room where five pounds of thumbtacks have been spilled. You try to pick a path that seems least likely to result in pain. At the same time, you have to get across the room - go about your routine business. In other words, it stayed complicated. I was honestly relieved to know who the father of Chrissy's baby was. More to the point, I was relieved that it wasn't somebody other than Bobby. But that didn't mean I approved of a resumption of the activity between them that had produced that baby. I suspect it was just as complicated for them. A man and woman who love each other, and have created life in the woman's womb, can't just clamp off their feelings. I knew that. While the boat of love that Marie and I boarded may have been leaky, the fact that we had created Bobby and Chrissy would keep us bailing until the last moment. Even now I still loved Marie on some level. When she had gone off to "find herself", it became pretty clear what she meant when the divorce papers arrived and the grounds were listed as "irreconcilable differences." The return address turned out to be that of another realtor in her firm. I didn't fight it because, to be honest, if she didn't want me, I didn't want her either. I didn't LIKE her very much, but she WAS the mother of our children. The bond of father and mother can't ever be broken completely. I didn't spy on them, but my imagination more than made up for that. Their heartfelt hugs and the way they practically cuddled on the couch while we were watching TV made it obvious that they had accepted their new relationship. I remember once walking into the living room to find her leaning back on the couch with her legs spread. He was kneeling between them and had raised her shirt up to bare her bulging belly. His hands were making little figure eights, just caressing the bulge, and he was talking to his baby. The look of love on her face was unmistakable. It was almost jarring to see a big, tough soldier being so gentle. I wouldn't find out until months later that, for the two weeks Bobby was home, they didn't have sex. They wanted to. But everything was too new. They had a lot to think about. And, of course, Bobby was leaving again. There was a lot of wistfulness floating around in the house those two weeks. Along with the oddness of the situation, there were other things that happened that seemed completely normal. They did go running together, for example. When they got back, both were gasping for air like I had been after half a mile that first day I ran with her. I'd never seen Chrissy really out of breath. Her face was red and she stood, bent over, her hands on her knees, just breathing. He was just as winded, though he walked around in circles while he got his breath back. It was clear they had competed. The only thing that complicated that perfectly domestic scene was when, before he headed for the shower, he stopped to give her a lingering kiss on the lips. She put one hand on his stomach and pushed him away from her. "You're sweaty and you stink," she complained. It was that kind of very normal and very abnormal mixture of behavior that made things seem so complicated. Another thing that complicated the situation was that Chrissy had to go back to school. School was one of the things we agonized about. We all knew that, when she showed up pregnant, things would be hard for her. Kids are among the cruelest of human beings. We knew that the baby would be delivered right in the middle of her senior year, which would interrupt her studies. It wasn't going to be easy. That was one reason it was good Bobby was there when she first went back. It was also good that everything was out in the open at home, because Bobby could support her fully during that first tough week of school. Then there was a moment of déjà vu as I drove Bobby to the airport again and he boarded another plane to fly off to a place fifteen hundred miles away. Chrissy didn't go with us. She had school. ------- Chrissy and I settled into the new routine of her being gone most of the day. I got my work done while she was at school, so we could spend more time together when she got home. She missed Bobby. She'd missed him before, but now she could do so completely. As a result, she ended up cuddling with me in front of the TV. I wasn't Bobby, but I was the next best thing. She was getting bigger and bigger, and it was harder for her to get comfortable. Sometimes she wanted to lie down, with her shoulders and head on my lap. A pillow helped. That was what created the next step in our family's little detour from the straight and narrow, at least as far as society was concerned. I had to put my hand somewhere, and the most comfortable and natural place to rest it was ... her belly. The first time I rested my hand there it was a little weird. I hadn't touched her like that before. Because it was weird I started to move my hand somewhere else, but she captured it and held it there with both of her hands. I can't even remember what we were watching on TV. That became the norm. She'd lie there with my hand on her belly, sometimes putting her hands over mine and sometimes not. One night I remembered Bobby's hands stroking those figure eights over her bulge and my hand just sort of copied that. It felt good. My grandson was under there, sleeping, maybe, and it just felt good to stroke him. The first time he moved under my hand I about freaked out. "He moved!" I yelped. Chrissy laughed, because she'd been feeling movement for several days. She hadn't said anything because she wasn't sure that it really WAS the baby moving. Things were getting pretty cramped in there and sometimes her organs moved a little. Feeling the baby move became a new game. I'd stroke her belly, trying to spur the little tyke into motion. When movement became more frequent, it was only natural to pull her shirt up to watch the skin bulge and ripple as the baby turned over or kicked or whatever. Several times we could see what was clearly a heel or elbow sliding across under her skin. December came and Bobby got some more leave. He didn't tell us, but surprised us instead, just showing up. He was there when Chrissy got home from school and I thought she'd go into labor, as excited as she was. Their kiss left nothing to the imagination, concerning how they felt about each other. I stood by, the doting grandfather, as they broke that long, passionate kiss and his hands went to explore what was twice as big as when he last felt it. "He moves all the time now," said Chrissy excitedly. "He's going to be a runner, like me." "You're so big!" sighed Bobby. "It's your fault," she teased. Then his hands slid upwards to cup breasts that were half again as big as they had been before. "These are getting big too," he said, grinning. I'm pretty sure they had forgotten all about me. I felt like I was a peeping Tom as his hands squeezed her teenaged breasts. "That's your fault as well," she said softly. "And it's also your fault that I'm horny all the time now. "Really," he said, leaning down to kiss her again. I turned to leave the room ... to leave them alone ... and ran smack into the clothes tree standing behind me. It went over and I tried to grab it, but just tipped off balance and went down with it. The next thing I knew my children were pulling coats off of me, laughing. ------- Bobby's second leave was completely different than his first, and I mean COMPLETELY different. I don't know if it's because they'd had time to process the change in their relationship, or maybe because they'd both gone without sex for seven months. It started with her asking him to put lotion on her belly. He applied himself with vigor. I happened to be doing something on the computer, and I don't know if that had anything to do with the escalation of things, but when I got up to go get something to drink he was putting lotion on her breasts too. Her shirt was up to her neck and her bra had been undone. I had an errant though of that Karate Kid movie, because it looked like Bobby was doing wax on ... wax off. Chrissy's head was back on the couch and she was humming. "That feels so much better when you do it," she sighed. "I'm so horny, Bobby." "I can't believe how big your nipples have gotten," he said softly. "The last time I saw them they were little pink things." "Everything on me is bigger because of you," she said a little breathily. He leaned forward and sucked a nipple. Her "Oooooo" was followed by her head coming up and our eyes met. She blinked, and then he sucked harder or something because her mouth went slack and her hands came to his head to pull him to her breasts. She made a face and, looking right at me, mouthed the word "sorry." I turned away, mostly because my cock was trying like crazy to burst through my pants. As I walked away I heard her say "Bobby, Daddy saw you!" I could just barely hear his response: "Mmmmmmm." ------- I guess they either got too wound up, or they had come to grips with this new relationship, because maybe five minutes later I heard them going into her room, just down the hall from my home office. She said "Bobby I don't know if I CAN!" and he responded "We'll find a way." Her "But what about Daddy?" was cut off by the door closing. It didn't take a lot of imagination to figure out what they had in mind. And my imagination should have sufficed ... but it didn't. I lasted another five minutes, maybe, before I couldn't help becoming a voyeur. I know that social convention prohibits one from watching others do something like what I was sure they were doing. But social convention prohibits what they were doing in the first place. So I didn't feel all that bad as I tiptoed to the door and cracked it open. I wasn't trying to let them know I was there, but then again, I don't think I cared if they DID know. I didn't intrude. By that I mean I didn't go in the room. I just opened the door enough to see an amazingly beautiful naked, pregnant, young woman, astride an equally amazingly beautiful naked young man. I didn't know then that this was only the second time they'd made love. If I had I'd have been even more amazed at how proficient she'd become in just five minutes. She'd settled on his youthful boner and was shoving her hips forward and backward as if she'd done this a hundred times before. He was mauling her swollen breasts when I first opened the door, but his hands slid down and became amazingly gentle as they smoothed over her jutting belly. "Ohhhhh I needed this so badly," she moaned. "I love you," he whispered. It wasn't clear whether he was talking to the woman impaled on his thrusting rigid prick, or the baby in the belly he was stroking. I don't know whether I'd seen enough, or I just wanted to return to the social convention of not intruding, but I closed the door. I do know I'll never forget that scene. It was as if a master painter had used my memory as a canvas. My cock was insanely hard, so I abandoned social convention once more by going to my room, where I lay on my bed and imagined I was Bobby. Her cry of release came through the wall, or maybe the air conditioning duct work, but as she came ... I spurted jets of semen a foot into the air. ------- Chapter 3 Bobby only stayed one week. He explained that he got thirty days of leave a year, and was saving the last week for when she had the baby. Again, I didn't attempt to pry or spy, but I couldn't help but notice that they spent a lot of time in either his bedroom or hers. I just tried to throw myself into my work. There were frequent stops for self abuse, but that was becoming pretty routine too. As I look back on it I'm more and more convinced that it was that one brief moment when Bobby was first sucking one of her nipples, and her eyes met mine, that brought about another fundamental change in my relationship with Chrissy. She never explained what that mouthed "sorry" meant. It could have meant she was sorry that I had to see it. It might have been that she was sorry they were doing it in 'public.' Only later would I think it might have signaled that she understood that I had sexual needs that were unmet, and that watching her like that might have exacerbated them. At any rate, as I was to find out later, when Bobby left this time Chrissy was a woman who had enjoyed the delights of lovemaking enough that she had developed a taste for it. In fact, it would be more nearly correct to say she now had a hunger for it. And her lover was fifteen hundred miles away. Just as important, having broken the taboo with one man in the family, she saw no reason to honor the taboo with the other man she loved. This time the change in our relationship was signaled when we were watching TV. Again, she was lying down, using me for a pillow. "Daddy?" she said. "Hmmm?" "Would you put lotion on my belly?" ------- I balked a bit, and she promptly reminded me that I had said we were in this together. She tossed in that she needed a Lamaze coach, and that I had been elected to that position. She seemed to think that having me rub lotion on her stomach was part of that deal. And, of course, I went along with it. We went to classes, where neither the trainer or the other women thought it was the least bit odd that Chrissy's father was going to be her coach. I guess the instructor had seen it all before, and the other pregnant women simply understood how important it was to HAVE a coach, no matter who it was. Within two weeks, having my hands on her in what I had known would be an amazingly intimate way, was just the norm. I put lotion on her belly every night while we watched TV. While it may have been normal, it still affected me. I don't know for a fact that she felt my prick stir under her head, but I don't see any way she could have missed it. She pretty much gave up putting a pillow on my lap, saying it bent her neck uncomfortably, and I pretty much gave up the idea of putting something between her soft hair and my hard prick. Maybe I was already lost by then. Then, one night, while I rubbed a slippery hand across her wide abdomen and stomach, she reminded me about one of the subjects in class where the women were told about preparing the nipples for nursing. That involved making sure they were well moisturized and pliable so that they wouldn't dry out and crack when she began breast feeding. Which may be responsible for the fact that I found myself working lotion into both of her nipples too. I don't know why I didn't think of the fact that she could do that part herself. Like I said, I may already have been lost by then. We were still lying there, as if we were watching TV. The TV was on, but again, I have no recollection of what was showing. I rubbed her breasts for what seemed like hours. Her dark brown nipples strained upwards, protruding from wide areolas almost an inch. The sounds that her throat produced were almost like the purring of a satisfied cat as I squeezed and pulled at those lusty nubs. At one point she labored to sit up, removed her shirt and bra, and laid back down like it was the most normal thing in the world for a pregnant daughter to lie half naked on her father's lap. Neither of us said a word. I just kept stroking her breasts and playing with nipples that, rather than feeling like pliable flesh, seemed more like they were in the gum eraser family. She writhed on my lap, as if she were having trouble finding a comfortable position to be in. The next night, when I turned on the TV she just handed me the lotion and then took her shirt and bra off. That became our new routine each night. A week later, while my fingers toyed with a long, rubbery nipple, she sighed. "You remember that web site I told you about?" she asked. "The one where there's a chat room for expectant mothers?" "Hmmmmm," I responded, not really paying attention. She was always informing me of something she had learned on the net or from a book. "Several of the women were talking about how it's a good idea for someone to suck on a pregnant woman's nipples," she said. Quite suddenly I WAS paying attention. "They say it helps the nipples get prepared for nursing," she added. "Oh," I said weakly. "I want them to be ready for the baby, Daddy," she said, looking up at me. "But I need somebody to suck them for me. I had no idea if the advice she'd gotten on that site was true or not, but I didn't care. I must shamefully admit that I was only too willing to take on that task. We rearranged ourselves on the couch, with her swollen belly pressing against my solar plexus, and those luscious, full breasts right in front of my face. I think we both groaned when I first took a nipple in my mouth and sucked gently. I also think there were a few minutes when I somehow went back in time, because the next thing I knew I was sucking one, and then the other with the enthusiasm of a starving baby. Her whines made it clear that it was just as delightful for her as it was for me. "Oh Daddy," she moaned "That makes me so horny, but don't stop, please." I realized her hand was in the sweat pants she favored because they were stretchy and loose. I ignored the hand, and what it was most likely doing, and simply kept suckling one fat, turgid nipple, and then the other. A few minutes later her groan signaled something, but I couldn't tell what. It seemed a mixture of passion and frustration. "I can't reach, Daddy," she moaned. "My belly is too big." I let an astonishingly elongated nipple slip from between my lips. "Oh baby," I sighed. "Help me, Daddy," she whined. I had passed "Go" long before. I hadn't collected two hundred dollars, and was well on my way to jail if anyone ever found out what was gong on between us, not to mention what had gone on between Chrissy and Bobby, which I had not stopped. The thought of 'helping' her just didn't seem like that huge of a step. ------- I know you hate it that the good part is being interrupted here, but I have to say something in my defense. I know a lot of you think that this was all perverted in some way. For SURE I had never planned on satisfying my own daughter sexually, because I would have sworn that was perverted too. But this was different somehow. Maybe it was the slow way things progressed, that allowed my formerly conservative mind to adapt and accept things that I had always assumed were wrong. But the fact was that I loved her, and I loved giving her pleasure. It seemed like such a little thing ... to rub here ... to stroke there ... to hear what was undeniably sounds of joy issue from her lips. What I'm saying is that it snuck up on me, somehow, and it didn't FEEL wrong at all! It just felt like love. Her first orgasm, as my fingers frantically massaged flesh I had only caught glimpses of before, was probably as good for me as it was for her. It seemed like the sensations coming from my lips, still sucking her nipples, were given voice in her throat. Knowing that I was responsible for her cries of joy was electrifying. I didn't cum in my pants or anything like that. In a way it was better than that. When she moaned "I love you, Daddy," I was quite sure nothing would ever make me feel so wonderful as those few words. I was wrong, of course. ------- After that first orgasm, she sagged on me, slowly catching her breath, relaxing more and more until I realized she had fallen asleep, splayed half naked on me like I was her bed. I had an almost painful erection, but I didn't want to disturb her. What made us move was that, being topless, she got cold. I wanted to carry her to bed, but that was ridiculous. Instead, I helped her to her feet where, rather than put her top back on, she sought warmth in my arms. That our steps took us to my bedroom, instead of hers, shouldn't have surprised me. Neither of us wanted to abandon this warm closeness, and I had a bigger bed. That she had me take off her sweat pants didn't surprise me either. Any thought of being modest around me had flown away as she writhed in orgasm under my lips and fingers. I went to the bathroom where, within the space of a minute or less, my stroking hand coaxed spurts of hot semen from my prick. I felt almost light headed knowing there was a beautiful naked woman waiting for me in my bed, and that may have contributed to the speed with which my balls gave up their cargo. I was still dribbling just a little as I ran and crawled quickly under covers, pressing against her warm body from behind her, my hand resting on my grandson's gestation chamber. "Thank you, Daddy," she sighed. I wasn't sure whether she was talking about the orgasm I'd given her, or that she was in my bed. But then ... it didn't really matter which it was. ------- As had happened in the past, the escalation of our sexual behavior towards each other was permanent. Within a week, when she joined me on the couch, I got a kiss on the lips, after which hazel eyes stared into mine and pink lips whispered "I'm ready for my orgasm, Daddy." She favored lying down facing me, where her swollen breasts were right in front of my face and my left hand had easy access to her pussy. If I wasn't sucking her nipples while I diddled her, she kissed me. Her lips seemed to be searching for something to eat, nipping at my own lips, or at my chin, her tongue flicking out to lick at whatever she could reach. Then one night she said that getting up afterwards was undoing all the relaxation that came in the aftermath of her orgasm, and we moved my 'massage' to the bedroom, where she could just fall asleep afterwards. She lay on her back with me beside her. First there was the lotion on her belly. "Junior," which I had taken to calling the unborn tyke, seemed to like the belly rubs too, because he always got more active when I did that. I usually started sucking her nipples while I was spreading the lotion and eventually I'd just slide my oily hand lower to find and torture her clitty. Within a five minutes she'd arch and groan and thank me and tell me how much she loved me. On this night, though, as I was still in the nipple sucking phase, her hand fell against my boner. It had developed - and I'm still not sure how - that when we got into bed no clothing was required for either of us. Maybe it had something to do with the luscious warmth of skin to skin contact. I'd always had boners when this happened, but she'd never seemed to notice. Even when we spooned and my rigid prick pressed into her firm butt, she'd never said anything. "Poor daddy," she sighed. "You take such good care of me ... but nobody takes care of you." Her hand gripped my rigid penis gently. "It's OK," I said, my words slightly muffled by the fact that my lips were pressed to a big, round areola. "No it's not," she said. "Besides, I need more than just your fingers." That got my attention. "Help me up," she said. "Honey," I said in a daze. "We can't do that, baby." Touching her was one thing. What it sounded like she was proposing was completely different. "Why not?" she asked. "It's not like you can get me pregnant." She smiled at her little joke. "We just can't," I said, helplessly. Her hand on my cock felt so good. "Yes we can," she said. She was already breathing heavily in anticipation, and her eyes were glittering. "Now help me up." I didn't, but she struggled up anyway, reaching with her free hand to pull on my elbow. Once moving she kept going, letting go of my prick and throwing a leg over me, moving to sit on my thighs as she rolled me onto my back. Her belly pressed against my cock and she shook her hair back, reaching to pull it behind her head as she looked down. Her breasts pulled apart, the nipples looking a little like google eyes. "I can't see," she complained. Her hand reached and found my prick again. "You'll have to help. I need something hard inside me, daddy." I caved like a cheap paper bag. Her effect on me was stronger than my own sensibilities. I reached and she raised, using her thighs and her hands on my chest. I stood my prick up and stared at her pussy lips, which were engorged and gaping apart. Notching the tip there almost made me cum right then. That ejaculation was delayed only by the time it took her to sink down on my cock and sigh "Oh yeaaaaah." She smiled as I bathed her pregnant pussy with my semen and then giggled. "You're even quicker than Bobby." "Oh fuck," I groaned as my balls found release sweeter than anything I could remember. Her swollen breasts were right there and I pulled her down, lifting my head to suckle as she began rubbing her pussy lips forward and back. "That's good, Daddy," she moaned. "Just a little bit more." Her own release came before I was completely soft, and her whine brought life back to my prick as a surge of emotion ripped through me. It was stronger than the orgasm I'd just had. Her belly was rubbing mine and the rippling clasp of her pussy seemed to suck strength back into my penis. "Oh my," she sighed. "You get hard again quicker than Bobby too!" ------- Once over the precipice, the fall cannot be suspended. I had no parachute to slow my plummet. There was another aspect of all this that speeded up my descent, if anything. Her eyes opened wide and stared into mine. "It's going to happen AGAIN, Daddy!" It turned out that she wasn't aware, at least not on a personal level, that she could have multiple orgasms. Like most inexperienced lovers, she and Bobby had always stopped after their first orgasm. Now, though, as she became intimately aware that she could have another one, her movements got jerky as she tried hard to reach it. "Calm down," I panted. "You have all the time in the world." I felt something where her belly touched mine and looked down to see Junior rolling in her womb. Her excitement was transmitted to him and his feet were all over the front wall of his enclosure. She must have felt it too, because she sat bolt upright and her hands went to her belly, feeling her son moving. Her hips never stopped, though, and her whole body shook as her cum arrived and made her pussy suck at my prick again. "Oh wow," she gasped. "Oh wow ... oh Daddy!" Seeing her holding her belly like that, while she came on my cock was another of those pinnacles that I wasn't aware one could reach. Marie had lost interest in sex around her fifth month of pregnancy each time around, so I had never been in this situation before. This orgasm must have been a little more sedate, because she slowed and finally just sat, still impaled, while her hands made little circles on her belly, as if she were trying to soothe her anxious baby. "He's going crazy in there," she panted. "I've heard that an orgasm is like a contraction," I suggested. "He's just telling you he's not ready to leave his nice warm room yet. If you get off he'll probably calm down." "I don't want to get off," she complained. "I've missed this so much." "This is crazy, baby," I sighed as some modicum of common sense crept back into my mind. "We shouldn't have done this." "No it's not," she said firmly. "and yes we should. We should have been doing this for a long time." "You're nuts," I groaned. "No I'm not. I've wanted this ever since I saw you sneaking looks at my pussy while I was doing sit-ups and knew that you got hard because of it." I gulped. "You saw that?" She smiled. "Of course I saw that. I liked it. Why do you think I never wore any panties on our runs? I sneaked peeks at you too. I couldn't believe you were going commando for me, though. Were you?" "No!" I gasped. "I just didn't have a jock." "Well anyway, I came back from every run horny. And you always went right to your room. I just knew you were doing what Bobby used to do when I teased him. That made me horny too. Was I right, Daddy? Were you in there beating off?" "Yes," I groaned. My prick was as stiff now as it had ever been. Whether the little squeezes her pussy was making were intentional or just instinct I didn't know, but I was horny as all get out. "I did too, you know. Seeing your hairy balls and that beautiful strong penis of yours got me going. I'd lie on my bed rubbing like crazy, thinking about you lying on your bed rubbing like crazy." She grinned at me. "But you're not beating off now," she said. The clasp of her pussy tightened and I realized she'd been doing it on purpose. "I'm so glad you're not wasting it any more. I miss Bobby so much, and you're as close as I can get to him right now. "So I'm just the next best thing?" I complained. "I love you, Daddy. It's different than the way I love Bobby. I love you both the same way, but different too." Women always think that everything they say makes sense. "And it's because I love you that I want to take care of you too," she said. She began to move her hips again. Her hands had been stopped, just cupping her belly, and they began to make circles again. She looked down. "Wake up, Junior, we're going to go again. Pay attention, because some day you're going to make some girl happy like this." I was no novice. I had created two babies, and had sex countless times. In the next ten minutes, however, I learned the difference between just having sex ... and making love. Her pussy was like a furnace, gripping me tightly and then relaxing, as if it were taking a breath. She sped up and slowed down her movements. Watching her have an orgasm, and then another, reminded me of what the kids had been like when they were much much younger, and were taken into a major chain toy store for the first time. As she shuddered through her fourth orgasm, and Junior kicked again, I gave up staving off my own release. My prick seemed to scream and, heavy as she was, I lifted her knees off the bed briefly as my prick gave her pussy another sperm bath. ------- If there was a word for the new relationship I had with my daughter during the seven months I was aware she was pregnant, it was 'escalation.' Once she broke a barrier, it not only stayed broken, but she pressed on. Once we'd made love, she had no reluctance to be as fully sexual as she could be. She began walking around naked in the house. She said it was because it was a pain to get dressed, but that didn't match with the fact that she seemed to want lots of hugs and kisses. I've heard that some women are more horny during pregnancy. I'd never met one before, but she convinced me that what I'd heard was true. Within another month, though, a problem arose she hadn't anticipated. She was in the second half of her eighth month. She was carrying the baby low which, according to an old wife's tale, supported my belief that her baby was a boy. But riding me began to get uncomfortable. I introduced her to doggy style sex and she was happy again. She didn't like it as much as being face to face, and sometimes I had to reach around and diddle her clitty while I fucked her, but she invariably got off. When, in her ninth month it got too uncomfortable for even doggy style sex, I went down on her for the first time, something I found out Bobby had never done. Like having her nipples sucked, she loved getting her pussy sucked too, and I spent hours doing it. She also learned how to masturbate me, and became an expert at it. But we also just lay and cuddled a lot too. I spent more hours rubbing lotion into her belly and breasts too, which had gotten tender as they became fully engorged. She still loved having her nipples sucked, though, and it was while I was doing that that another surprise announced itself. I tasted something slightly bitter and she shuddered and let out a whining "Ooooooo." I stopped and looked up at her. "I felt this pain!" she complained. "It hurt, all of a sudden, right around the nipple!" She frowned. "But it was a good kind of pain, sort of." We both looked at the nipple that had complained and saw droplets of white appearing all over the surface of the extended flesh. "Milk!" I gasped. "Ohhhhh," she sighed. "How WONDERFUL!" Tentatively I leaned down and licked at the nipple. "Suck!" she commanded. I did and got a little more of that slightly bitter taste, before it turned sweet and warm as her breast began producing what was suddenly a prodigious amount of sweet, warm milk. She sighed and her head fell back. "I'm going to LOVE nursing!" she groaned. Oddly, the other breast didn't start producing until half a day later, but after that I had what seemed like a full time job relieving the pressure in her breasts. She went into labor the two days later. ------- She was a week early, at least according to the due date the doctor had pronounced. I got on the phone, but the Army wasn't impressed that one of their soldier's sister was having a baby. He'd already put in for his leave, based on the due date, and they wouldn't let him go early. But I was trained, and I loved her, so I found myself reminding her to breathe, and panting with her, making the silly sounds that aren't actually silly at all, and which help a woman through what a man can only try to imagine pain is like. She purely loved having a tennis ball pressed into her back, to the left side of her spine, to relieve the ache there. She was a trooper. It took eighteen hours for her to coax the eight pound, seven ounce baby ... girl ... out of her womb. Yes, Junior is a girl. I still call her that today, but that's another story. Anyway, Chrissy and I were already home with Robin when Bobby got home. Despite the fact that he was a little late, their reunion was heartwarming. It was so strange to see that big, strapping lawman gently holding his little girl so tenderly. Chrissy glowed with happiness for the week he was there. ------- Life can be hard for a teenage mother. Just trying to finish high school can be challenge enough to keep a girl busy. Pile on top of that the childcare involved with an infant and it's easy for her to lose heart. I was so proud of Chrissy, though. She handled her frustration well, and was never short or hostile to Robin. She never complained that she didn't get to go out with her girlfriends. It was like some girls were just born to be mothers, and Chrissy was one of them. I helped, of course. Like I had taken on the role of surrogate lover, I took on the role of surrogate father as well. Bobby was in constant contact, though his calls came at sometimes odd times. He was on rotating shifts, but his free time was his own and he usually used it to call and talk for an hour or two. I got maybe ten minutes of that talk time and then handed the phone to Chrissy while I took Robin to play with or rock to sleep or change or whatever. Bobby didn't make it back for graduation, but Chrissy didn't care. I sat in the audience and watched her walk across the stage. I held Robin and pointed out her mother, which made the woman sitting next to me sniff, but I didn't care. Chrissy didn't want to go out and celebrate graduation with her friends. I think her circle of friends shrank a bit when she had the baby. Some boys still hit on her, but the girls shied away. Maybe they thought motherhood was communicable. It is, but not the way they were thinking. That night Chrissy put Robin down and came back to the living room, where I was sitting, watching TV. She sat down beside me. "We haven't done this in ages," she said, leaning her head on my shoulder. "You've been busy," I said. I felt an almost electric shock as her hand wandered into my lap. "There are a bunch of other things we haven't done lately too." "You're not pregnant any more," I croaked. My prick must have been lonely, because he perked up at the feel of her hand. "I don't have to be pregnant to love you," she said softly. "And I don't have to be pregnant to get horny," she added. "Oh." It was the best I could come up with in the moment. ------- I resisted. She complained that Robin had fallen asleep while nursing, and that her breasts were complaining. All I had to do, so she said, was lessen the pressure. Of course once I latched onto a fat nipple and got mouthfuls of warm milk, I was a goner. It was so completely different than before. I had never touched her in a sexual manner when she didn't have a swollen belly. She'd gotten one of those three wheeled baby carriages with bike tires on it, and had resumed running as soon as she could. Robin seemed to love being bounced along. Now, after long runs with her daughter, Chrissy was in great shape again. I'd seen her nursing Robin, of course, so seeing her breasts wasn't odd, but when she stood up and stripped, her flat-again belly, below those full breasts, and above pussy lips that she'd kept shaved after giving birth, made my balls ache. It was also completely different being on top of her. With her legs thrown wide, and her pelvis thrusting up at me as I sank deep into her, her moan of happiness and her arms around me almost made me lose it again, like an inexperienced teenager. I got control, though, and showed her what an experienced man could do to a willing woman. Six orgasms later she panted "OH Daddy, that was so wonderful, but I've had enough. I'm done. Now it's your turn. I want to feel you squirt in me." She was nursing. That's supposed to provide some protection, or so they say. I went deep and gave my baby girl a belly full of what had created the darling little girl sleeping in the next room. I didn't fully realize, until then, how much I'd missed doing this too. ------- I was completely happy in my role as surrogate father and surrogate lover. Chrissy seemed completely happy too. I made enough money that the added expense of a baby in the house was no big deal. She talked about finding a job to help out, but obviously enjoyed being a mother so much that I encouraged her to wait a while. And that really was why I encouraged her not to work. Honest! She DID love being a mother. It had nothing to do with the fact that it put Chrissy and me together most of the day. It had nothing to do with the fact that Chrissy loved to get well fucked each time her daughter ate, which was often. Granted, it was mighty fine that I went from getting no sex to getting more sex than I could handle, but that wasn't the reason I encouraged her to stay home. And I WASN'T trying to get her pregnant. I really BELIEVED that nursing kept a woman from ovulating. And she hadn't had a period since Robin was born, so when she kept not having periods neither of us thought it was odd. She began weaning Robin at eight months. Bobby took leave again for Robin's first birthday. He took the whole month that he'd saved up. He had a little more than a year left on his enlistment contract and he was talking about getting out and finding a job with a police department in some town where they didn't know that he and Chrissy were brother and sister. He DID try to get her pregnant that month. But, as it turned out, he got home too late. ------- The End ------- Posted: 2009-04-13 Last Modified: 2009-11-27 / 04:19:29 pm ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------