Elizabeth, Happy at Last Ch. 02

When I asked him what we were going to do with the bottles, he said, "I know you are planning on breast feeding our son, but there may be times when you may be too tired or ill to take care of his needs. These are for those emergencies, so don't worry about me denying you of your bonding with Raymond."

I understood what he was saying, and just then I heard a tiny little cry from the other room. When I walked into the room, I understood somehow, that the cry that was coming from our son meant that he was hungry. I took off my blouse and bra, picked up my son, and sat on our bed where I held him in front of my breast.

He latched onto my right nipple and as he sucked the nourishment from my body, I felt love, arousal, and satisfaction, all at the same time. During the twenty weeks that my infant son nursed, there were times that his sucking would cause me to orgasm, especially after his teeth started to come in. He never bit me hard enough to hurt me or draw blood, but years later when we became sexually intimate, these old feelings would come back, and he is still the only man who can make me cum, simply by sucking on my boobs.

I didn't realize that my father had left until several hours later when he woke me by gently kissing me on my still bare breasts. Evidently, I had fallen asleep after putting Raymond back into his bassinette when he finished nursing.

When I opened my eyes and looked at him, my father was licking his lips. Then he said, "I can understand why our son enjoys your breastmilk, it tasted yummy." When I smiled, he added, "Could you please put your blouse on? I need you to help me carry some furniture into the house."

I did as he asked, and helped my father carry a crib that converted to a single youth bed, a set of dresser drawers, and a rocking chair, into the front bedroom. Then we carried several cardboard boxes full of blankets, sheets, pillows, and several bags of new baby clothes. We spent the next couple hours arranging the furniture, looking at and putting away the clothes, and talking about what color to paint the walls and ceiling of Raymond's room.

When I heard our son start to cry, my father said, "I'm going to undress now dear, why don't you do so as well. The weather is warm, so we don't need to wear any clothes." I agreed with my father, and only Raymond, wore any clothes that summer unless we went to town, because changing a messy diaper was easier to do that changing his bedclothes.

We decided that our son was too small to go swimming in the ocean until after he was six weeks old, so we didn't participate in the Memorial Day weekend festivities. We only went skinny dipping in the ocean separately.