George Foster watched Sylvia nurse Kimberly. 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 tbe 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.

In the morning, changing Kimberly while Sylvia was in the bathroom, he felt a little guilty. He should do more childcare -- Kim was *his* daughter after all. But he was really doing this as preparation for seducing Sylvia. "Changed," he told Sylvia when she got out, "but hungry."

"A hungry Kimberly is a redundancy." She started to nurse Kim. "Where does she put it?"

"Into her diaper. Trust me." It had been full as well as soaked.

"You sure we can get by without my teaching?" Sylvia asked out of the blue.

"Positive. We're living on my salary, more or less. The trust money is piling up in the bank. My anthropologising is close to home, conspicuous consumption wouldn't endear me to my colleagues, and Canada paid for your delivery. There doesn't seem to be anywhere to spend that money. Want to stay home? Sure it wouldn't drive you stir crazy?"

"Thing is, I'd like to continue breastfeeding." He was tempted to agree immediately; he loved to watch. On the other hand, Sylvia had worked so hard to become a teacher -- worked twice, really -- in Boston and then here. "Doctors recommend a year," she continued. "It's best for the baby's health."

"Are you sure? Not about best for Kimberly's health. Are you sure you want to continue for a year?"

"Yes. Into next summer, probably."

"Well, really," he pointed out, "you don't have to be sure. That's a decision which can be remade." Starting again after stopping was more chancy. "Anyway, the question I can speak on is that we can afford it, afford it easily. Cabin fever is something you'll have to judge. And, really, cabin fever isn't much of a threat. All you have to do is feed her before you take her out. Now, winter is another question. But winter affects us all."

"Women breast-feed in public." So they did. Would Sylvia?

"So they do. I still think of you as very modest." Then he left her for the bathroom. Carefully, he shaved his cheeks and his neck. The beard, aside from making him look a little older, saved time and razor blades. Tickling Sylvia's nipples had been fun once-upon-a-time, as well. Maybe it would be fun again when the nipples weren't so sore.

He ate and took Kim when Sylvia had given her what was most important. When Sylvia had finished her own breakfast, he asked, "Want to come back to bed?"

"Didn't you have enough last night?"

"I was rather a fizzle last night."

"Really you weren't," she said generously, if not accurately. Sylvia sauntered to bed as though posing for a blue movie. It was funny, but it was also sexy. And that deliberate sexiness increased his arousal. They kissed with a joint awareness that this was only the beginning. He kissed her face and neck and shoulder. Skipping the rest felt like deprivation. Maybe he needn't. "Going to shower?" he asked.

"Now?"

Hell, no! He'd thought she'd been into this, too. "Before you feed Kimberly."

"Sure."

So he could continue without endangering one of those he was supposed to care for. He kissed the smoothness; she hadn't mentioned being sore there. He couldn't resist those nipples, though, whatever Sylvia said about the real purpose. "Tell me if it gets sore." Licks would be comparatively safe, and they gave him a taste of her milk.

This morning, though, was for Sylvia after his shitty performance of the night before. He started to stroke her cunt. Not that this was an onerous chore. And she was nice and wet, too.

"I've had enough of that," she said before he would have proceeded to the main event. He hoped she'd had enough foreplay this morning; she'd sure had enough making out this month. She got out her box of Trojans. He opened the packet, but she took the condom from him to put it on. His cock firmed to its boss's hand.

"Love you," he said poised at the entrance. And he did love her, as well as desire her. Then he pressed into her liquid warmth. Even through the latex, the smooth clasp was heavenly. And, this time, the sensations weren't overshadowed by the urgency he'd felt the night before.

He kept his hands off her breasts. Feeling like this, he might squeeze too hard even for normal times. But he caressed her smooth shoulders. He could move through the warm clasp of her cunt forever. He did nearly forever, enjoying every sensation, enjoying her evident enjoyment and welcome. But his peak didn't threaten.

Her peak came, though. "Oh, Sylvia!" he said as she clutched around him. He drove through that rhythmic grasp, drove through the last flutter around his cock. She was done. Should he stop?

For that matter, could he stop? His peak, so long delayed, was building in him. And Sylvia was responding again. She matched his increasing pace. He could feel her belly harden beneath him.

He was almost there. Could he hold off until she made it? And then he didn't need to! The smooth tunnel grasping his cock tightened again and again. "Sylvia," he said as he drove in once more, deeper -- or at least harder -- than he'd done before. His love, his very being, poured into her.

Then he was lying on her. She was so soft, so welcoming. He should move, but what little energy he had was needed to fight for breath.

Some period later -- minutes? hours? days? -- he did manage to move off. He held her lightly. It couldn't have been too long a time; Kim wasn't complaining.