The Surrogate Ch. 04

I supported her as she made the big step over the tub's rim. Then I tested the water in the shower, blended in a little cold, and held her hand as she stepped in.

"Relax," I said, and kissed her, "enjoy."

I lathered the thick, soft washcloth with Zest, the high detergent content of the hand soap good for our oily skin, and washed her face. She looked so much like a little girl when I did that, the way she squeezed her eyes shut and wrinkled her nose, that I felt a little rush of pedophilia.

I shampooed her hair then, taking my time, enjoying the way my fingers felt in that thick mass. I shampooed, rinsed, shampooed, rinsed, and then worked her fancy conditioner into it, something called Oribe, thick and white as I pushed the plunger on the bottle and caught it in my palm before working it into her hair.

I had deliberately delayed washing her body, saving it for a treat.

And it was.

I realized, in that instant, as I started working the soap across her shoulders, feeling the softness covering the hardness, the strength of her body, that this was when she, or any woman, looked her absolute best. Her breasts, when I started cleaning them with the soap, were full and heavy, her distended nipples pointing straight down. Her arms, as I washed each one separately, had the softness of her baby fat, and when I moved them to the side so I could do each hand and then each armpit, had that softness hanging from her upper arms that I just wanted to kiss and lick.

She had no waist and as I soaped and cleaned her belly, soft now, flabby without the overstretched uterus and baby I had the thought - "THIS is what a woman's body should look like". There were two distinct hemispheres of soft belly apron, the line dividing them running from her belly button down. The stretch marks were very dark.

It was a lovely belly and I wanted to kiss it.

So I dropped to my knees and kissed it.

I lifted it to wash under the thick flap of her apron and her pussy showed the aftereffects of her earlier delivery. Her labia were thick and distended, loose. Her inner lips, her labia minora dangled, flopping side to side as I washed her.

I did her legs then, about the only part of her body unchanged from labor and delivery.

I turned her, did the backs of her legs, and then worked up to her ass.

Her ass hung a little more, I thought, than before the delivery. It was soft and dimpled, almost lost in the thickness of her waist, well, where I supposed a waist had once been. I washed it carefully, making her giggle when I spread her cheeks and got the pretty little rosebud nice and clean.

I stood to finish her back and was struck anew by just how beautiful, how damn purely sexy a woman was right after giving birth. Those pads on her back were fuller right then, I thought it must be another reaction to the hormones flooding her system. I knew I loved the feel of them, so soft in my hands, and her flesh squeezed out as I washed her.

I washed quickly, slapping her hand when she reached for the soap.

"Tonight," I said, kissing her, "I do ALL the work."

I held her hand as we stepped out of the shower onto the fluffy bath towel.

I dried her then, noting the faint discoloration as I did between her legs.

When she started to reach for the towel I smiled and said, again, "No, Nancy, tonight I do all of the work."

I dried quickly and then walked her into the bedroom.

She smiled when she saw the towel I had laid on the sheet.

I helped her crawl up onto the bed.

"I wasn't sure you'd want me," she said.

"Can you, well," and I hesitated, awkward for a moment.

She stretched, luxuriantly, her back arching, stretching her arms straight up over her head, twisting her hips, and then rolling them back and spreading her legs.

"All stretched and ready," she said, and then laid her fingers where her labia hung loose, and opened herself up.

"Show me how much you love me," she said, an odd little smile playing on her face, "just not too hard. I AM pretty tender."

I bent and kissed where she had opened that deep tunnel to her sex.

"Oh, Jesus," she breathed, "I didn't expect that."

There was that scent again, for the third time, and I realized that I liked it. Hell, I liked all of it. I liked her scent and her postpartum discharge. I touched her clitoris with my tongue, and she jumped like I had hit her with a cattle prod. Her taste was coppery and salty and I liked it.

Her fingers dug into my hair and she pulled me up so I could meet her eyes.

"Baby," she said, "as much as I enjoy that, please, I'm tired. Just, please, fuck me and then I'll let you do whatever you want to do tomorrow but I need to rest."

I kissed my way up her belly, licked each nipple, and then kissed her as I slipped inside of that stretched-out tunnel.

She was so stretched out there was no friction, hardly any sensation at all.

"Oh, thank you, David," she said, and I could tell she was fading, her long day catching up with her.

I pulled out, slowly, carefully, and kissed her.

"Oh, Honey," she said.

I kissed her again and said, "As you said, Bride-o-mine, we have all day tomorrow. Now go ahead and rest."

She smiled and closed her eyes.

By the time I got off of her, and moved around to snuggle against her, she was already snoring softly.

I settled into the softness of her arm and found her nipple with my mouth. As I nursed, feeling her nipple and areola hard against my tongue as I gently massaged it against the roof of my mouth, feeling her milk flowing freely now as the postpartum hormones encouraged her to let down and feed the baby I realized that this was what I wanted. There was no doubt, as I tasted her milk, warm and sweet, that I would NEVER let her go dry.

"That's nice, baby," she murmured but I don't think she really woke up.

I was hard where I snuggled against her hip and thigh, but there was no urgency to finish. I thought, briefly, about masturbating but it wasn't really a need.

As she snored softly and I nursed greedily I thought, once again, how damn lucky I was.

And that is how the day of the first time I watched Nancy deliver ended.