The Major Colonel's Baby Ch. 02

One night he held me in his arms and unexpectedly said, "Someday you'll meet someone else and want to be with him. I don't want you to feel badly when that happens." All I could do was look at him in speechless surprise.

"No, I love you, Daddy. That will never happen," shaking my head for emphasis.

"For now, I just want to find somewhere away from prying eyes where we can quietly live our lives, make babies and raise our family in peace," he said.

Listening to him talk, I felt very fortunate to have him love me. Our love was that of a man and a woman and the biological fact that he was my father in a curious way only intensified our attraction and feelings for each other.

I knew unquestioningly that his feelings for me were real and not those of a lecherous old man. Even in my advancing pregnancy, he enjoyed making love to me. Daddy was always gentle and considerate, even when his cock was painfully rigid, and his balls ached from wanting just to push it in and fuck me. Sometimes I'd wake during the night with him already buried deep inside. I'd be on my side, my legs open, with one leg resting on his hip and his beautifully insistent cock nestled inside my warm sheath. Still half asleep, I could hear him, repeating in a low voice, "Oh, baby, your pussy is so fucking hot and wet." He would stroke slowly, carefully pumping his full length into me. When he stiffened and grunted, I could feel the force of his ejaculation and the warm spray of his semen.

"I'm cumming baby . . . . I'm cumming all over the little one inside you. I swear I'm going to put another baby in you in another year."

"Yes, Daddy, give it all to me, every drop, right where it belongs," I said. Pushing my hips back onto his cock, feeling my pussy muscles contract around him, I milked the cum from him.

*****

I can't seem to stop crying. Every time I look at him, my heart beats faster, and the tears start.

He's beautiful. Like his father, he has a Mediterranean look about him. He was born with a headful of thick, curly brown hair, wide-set brown eyes, long almost girlish lashes, and that tale-tell dimple in his right cheek that passes from male child to male child.

He's getting fussy and whiny, just like his father when he's hungry. I open my top and put him to my warm, milky breast. Before I can get him correctly positioned and me more comfortable, he latches on to my teat and immediately starts nursing. My nipples are very sore and tender, but the discomfort dims when compared to the joy and satisfaction that I feel when I hold him in my arms. I close my eyes and lean back enjoying the warmth and pleasant sensations spreading through me. I feel a warm hand under my gown, slowly making its way up my thigh, and I open my eyes to see my baby's father kneeling next to me. I smile, my heart overflowing with love for him and his son.

"He looks so much like you, it's scary." I tell him, and he smiles at me and tousles his son's curly hair.

"Thank you for our son," I say to him as the baby suckles happily. After a few minutes, I sigh and close my eyes with an indescribable sense of well-being. My world now revolves around making the two men in my life as happy as I possibly can. My gaze goes from my baby to my lover, and I marvel at how fortunate I am that my life could be so perfect as to make my Daddy also my baby's Daddy.