What it Means to be a Father

by Tempest Thorne
 

He gazed down at the two of them for a moment, savoring the quiet, basking in the soft light and warm desire flowing through his body.  She had fallen asleep with their son snuggled in her arms, the blankets pooled around her waist, her smooth shoulders and full breasts bare.  The baby's lips were moving rhythmically in his sleep, though the nipple had long since slid from his tiny mouth.

As he eased his son from her arms, she murmured sleepily and rolled onto her back.  He gently settled the little one in the basinet at the bedside, then stripped off his clothes.  He quickly slid in beside her, curling his body around hers, absorbing her heat and breathing in her scent.

Her scent, like her body, had changed with pregnancy and birth — added to the warm earthiness of her hair and the clean musk of her skin was something new, perhaps an accumulation of sweat, breast milk, and the flow of the blood that had nourished their son for nine months.  Whatever it was, he found it intoxicating, primal, irresistible.

Softly, he traced the line of her jaw with his fingertips.  Her eyelids fluttered and she gazed up at him.  He gave her a deep, lingering kiss.  She responded with interest, molding her body against his and running her fingers through his hair.  She was so soft.  His cock stiffened against the bread-dough warmth of her belly.  Their eyes met for a moment, each reflecting the other’s love and longing.

"I’m still bleeding," she whispered.

"I know," he breathed back.  Concern filled his face.  "Are you ready for this?”

She smiled and ran her fingers down his spine.  Her hands gripped his ass, pulling him closer.  She arched her back, pressing her breasts against his chest and he was lost in a sea of desire.  He needed to know every inch of her... reclaim her... fill her every empty part with this intensity.  So strongly did the feeling take him that later he remembered little afterwards but a haze of emotion and sensation.

They touched each other with the familiarity of long-time lovers, yet he was inflamed with the excitement of an encounter with someone new.  While his strong fingers eased the tension from the muscles of her back, the dark nimbus of her areolas against the pale globes of her breasts caught his attention.  For a while his tongue danced across her erect nipples, then his mouth clamped down and he gulped at the watery-sweet milk.

She was gasping and straining to grab his cock.  Groaning, he evaded her grasp and moved between her thighs.  Her body opened up to him and he slipped, ever so slowly, into her cunt.  It was different somehow, maybe slicker and hotter, he didn’t know — the feeling was beyond thought.

Each careful thrust added to the exquisite agony building between them.  Tingling warmth grew at the soles of his feet.  Then he was cumming, carried on a tide of blinding ecstasy.  He plunged into her as deeply as he could, back arched, head thrown back and cried out, a feral sound of pleasure torn from his soul.

As he collapsed into her arms, he felt her begin to cum beneath him, and every one of her spasms made him shudder with answering intensity.  He found himself crying, and as his hot tears fell on her face, he saw them mix with her own.

Milk streamed from both of her breasts as they lay gasping, limbs tangled, kissing away each other’s tears.  They gazed into each other’s eyes, sharing a new awareness.  In that brew of semen, blood, milk, sweat, saliva and tears, they sensed themselves touching ancient knowledge.

The baby stirred at the bedside and began to cry.  The moment of mystery slipped away and they laughed, suddenly realizing what a mess they were.  He reached for his son, thinking: this is truly what it means to be a father.