Breastfeeding and my Father-In-Law

tagIncest/TabooBreastfeeding and my Father-In-Law

Relationships between in-laws are weird. There's all this assumed instant intimacy of "the family" without any long history of actual intimacy. If I'd met my husband's dad first, maybe I would have fallen for him. And to him, I'm kind of just a hot babe his son brought home, not actually any kind of "daughter". Andrew, my Dad, looks at any of his daughters, maybe thinks "Wow, she's a beautiful woman, my daughter," and then immediately remembers she's forbidden. My husband's dad looks at me and thinks, "Damn, my son beat me to that one."
Long way to say the three men in my life look at me, and treat me, in different ways. I've danced with all of them, and the three men hold me differently. Dancing with my husband it is the normal cheek-to-cheek, pelvises allowed to touch, lips whispering in ears. Dancing with my dad is a bit stiff and formal – Andrew keeps me just an inch away, properly, no pelvic touching. In my father's arms, yes, but not in his embrace, if you get my point. And with Thomas it's some strange in-between thing, and one minute I'm a proper inch apart and the next moment our bodies are touching – and then they're not. Until they do again. Sometimes Thomas gets hard, and I can feel that.
During my pregnancy, as I swelled, both my own father and my in-law started perving on me just a tiny bit. Like with their eyes. I want to say they were eye-fucking me, but that way overstates it. They just looked a lot, and enjoyed it too much. Nothing happened, of course, but they both found my fecund state highly arousing. Much larger (for me) breasts, weight on hips. Loose, comfortable dresses with low necklines.
After the birth of our son, the household seemed to revolve around my breasts. I'm not making a dirty joke, I mean really everything became about lactation. Is the baby "latching" properly on a nipple or not? How are her nipples? Good milk flow? Time to feed. Now time to pump. Storage of pumped milk, freezer overflowing with frozen pumped milk. Take breast pump literally everywhere. Where can I plug in my pump? My breasts are swollen, or leaking, or dry. Breast, breast, breast.
Then there's the other thing – they're not exactly my breasts anymore. They perform an essential community service. Dozens of times a day I haul one or the other out of the nursing bra and give a boob to baby. Then the other one. They really belong to him now; I carry them around, sure, but for his use. And oh yeah, the boobs come out in public, too, when needed. Half the town has seen my breasts, I think. Husband driving car, me nursing baby, guy in next car staring and drooling. Restaurant staff, fellow mall shoppers. Whispers: "Simon, look over there what that woman is doing."
I'm of course more comfortable at home, and another reason for that is that I can spend the hour feeding topless. Why bare one at a time (and wrestle with a modesty "drape") when baby will drain both? So I strip to the waist and let baby bounce from nipple to nipple unimpeded. I'm not shy and a breast isn't a sex organ – if any family members are in the room, they can watch me feed. It's biological but not sexual. Let the family see if they want, leave the room if they want. No false modesty for me, either, my bared milky breasts flop out in the open much of the day.
My Mom never leaves the room when I feed. She always stays with me. There may be no more magical mother-daughter bonding experience than the younger woman nursing her baby while the older one remembers nursing her, decades before. My father often does leave the room. He feels uneasy seeing my breasts, and I love him for it. I want him to be comfortable. He chills in the kitchen, works his phone, returns to my side when I'm done.
When the in-laws are visiting together they try to be polite and play it by ear. If my Dad has gone to the kitchen they'll join him. If the in-laws are visiting alone they stay with me. When Thomas is alone he sits with me for a while, then says something about going to the other room to catch up on his texts. But I know the truth – he's become erect, and embarrassed, and flees to the kitchen hoping I haven't seen the bulge in his pants. It makes me feel powerful to tease an erection, even from my father-in-law.
Both dads and my mom dropped by last Monday at different times. I saved my milk a bit for when my Father-in-Law was here to enjoy the show. I'm evil. I sat in the couch corner, held baby of course, and then dropped my phone. Barely a second later Thomas asks me if I would like him to pick it up for me since I can't. I just look at him for a second or two and say that would be nice. So he came close, knelt to grab it, and then put it on the table for me, his face inches from my tooters. Just before he could get up I said it's OK to look, it's a natural thing, breastfeeding. He didn't know what to say, but he stayed on a knee at my feet for a long time before standing up, adjusting his junk, and going to the kitchen for a glass of water.
Thomas came by again the next day. This time he sat in the chair next to the sofa, instead of the chair across the room, while I fed the baby. I told him "It's normal to be curious," and let him gape openly for about half an hour. He kept mumbling about how beautiful it is to watch and I asked why his wife never nursed their children. He said natural feeding went out of favor for decades, but is now coming back, which I already knew, of course. I couldn't resist fishing for a compliment so I said something like "Too bad; Mandy (mother-in-law) has a nice figure. You would have enjoyed watching her nurse" I got what I wanted when he told me my breasts were nicer than hers, then suddenly realized how inappropriate a remark that was, tried to take it back, and ended up all flustered.
So Thomas is babbling about my boobs and I had a cruel impulse. Baby had nodded off on a nipple – happens a lot – and I lowered him to my lap. With both breasts uncovered I turned slightly to him and asked why he liked seeing me feeding. He choked a bit and couldn't decide how best to answer. I let him hang for a second and said "It's OK if you look, but you know that's all, right?" He almost had a heart attack knowing I was contemplating some sexual thing we couldn't do. He was all boned up when I lifted the baby up again, blocking his view, and I said "Don't worry, Thomas. This time together can be our secret, OK? No one else has to know…" and looked down at my child, giving him a chance to scurry to the kitchen.
My father-in-law dropped by twice Wednesday, but nothing much happened that hadn't happened before. He was more relaxed now sitting next to me and watching me. Less antsy. He is a perfect gentleman, and has not taken any liberties, said or done anything inappropriate. He sits, and we chat, and he watches us, and then he leaves. He's become comfortable with my breasts. I realize I've become comfortable with is gaze, too. I never thought I would say this, but now I'm kind of going to miss breast feeding when it's over. It forces me to be still, and to be at peace, alone with the baby or with the adoring look of a man. Sexuality in the room, but dormant.
I often think, when any of the three men watch me nurse, that it would be so forbidden a thrill if they took a drink from me. Even my own dad, if we are alone, I think these things when I nurse. Nothing I have ever done makes me feel more like a woman than nursing in the presence of a man.
I use a lanolin cream to repair my nipples. I apply it myself during the day. But every night before sleep I let my husband gently apply it while I recline with my eyes closed. He traces the contours of the nipples tenderly with his fingertips. The feeling for me is greatly comforting and soothing but not at all sexual. My poor nips are chewed and stretched by my son's feeding and there's comfort, but no pleasure, in massaging them at the end of the day.
If my husband is around during the day he might help with the nipple cream while I sit upright on the sofa. Thursday my husband was giving my nipples a "touch-up" mid-day as soon as the baby napped. I sat quietly on the sofa and he sat next to me, applying the cream. We heard his father come in (we enter each other's homes all the time, just loudly announcing our arrivals for courtesy) and we postponed the rest of the treatment.
But almost as soon as he got comfortable Thomas saw the cream and asked if he had come at a bad time. I said no, picked up the cream, and continued the application. My husband was fidgeting, and I cruelly decided to tease him. "To tell you the truth, Dad, your son was putting this on for me but now he's shy."
My husband looked like the floor was about to open and swallow him. He quickly looked at his greasy finger and almost looked guilty about something.
Thomas knew how to push my husband's buttons. "Go ahead son, I don't mind. Finish the job for her."
No reply.
"A good husband takes good care of his wife, Son. You should finish the nipples."
The word made me tingle. Now my husband looked paralyzed and was blinking his eyes. "Really Dad, she can do it. Tell him, Honey."
I was silent for a second, cream in one hand, my nipples now as hard as pebbles. My life forked in front of me; which path should I take? I quickly looked at father and son and made a decision. "It's OK, Bradley, I think I would like Thomas to help, OK? Thomas, would you please finish the other nipple?"
My father-in-law showed no surprise at my invitation. He rose from his chair and came to my side. He leaned over, took the cream from my hand, and applied a bit to my left breast. All three of us stared at the nipple as he worked cream into my cracked skin, then returned to the other breast. Our eyes locked for a second and then we both turned to look at my husband, still in his chair, still gasping for something to say.
I realized with some surprise that I was aroused. My sexual desires had been modest since the birth, my libido very low. Babies are exhausting, and I couldn't remember the last time Bradley and I had made love. I let my head roll back onto the cushion and closed my eyes as Thomas worked both my nipples in front of my husband's silent gaze. I moaned something.
When Thomas heard me purr he made a decision. "Bradley, go sit with the baby while he naps, OK? Stay in his room with him. Tracy is going to close her eyes for a while right here while I sit with her. Is that all right? Tracy, is that what you want?"
My husband looked back and forth between his father and his wife, my nipples at the older man's fingertips. He nodded his head silently and began to turn. I spoke up: "Bradley, I need to hear you say it's OK. May I take a nap with Thomas?"
Now the men stared at each other. "It's fine, Dad," my husband said. "I'll watch the baby while you…" Words failed him now, at the moment he would give me to his father. He just couldn't say it.
"Don't worry, Brad," Thomas said at last. "You take care of the baby and I'll take care of his mother, all right?"
Bradley nodded and left the room.
Part 2
My father-in-law moved behind the couch, reached over my head and shoulders, and began to apply the lanolin cream on both of my nipples. My head lolled back onto the cushion, my eyes stayed closed, and I began to purr. The raw sexuality of what we were doing was not lost on me, but my breasts actually did ache, and the cream felt blissful. Thomas's fingers gently circled both gnawed, cracked nipples.
"Tell me dear what feels best. I've never had sore nipples." He dipped his head and spoke softly into my ear. Then he changed the pattern He soothed one nipple at a time, abandoning the other for a minutes. Then he switched back. Tremors shot from my breasts to my vulva. Left nipple, my crotch warming. Right nipple, warmth increasing. Left, right, I was smoldering with lust for the first time in many months.
I told him that what he was doing was perfect. For a moment I considered taking that nap. But then his hands began to move in a wider pattern, slathering the slippery cream all over my aching breasts, no longer restricting their caresses to the nipples. Freshly emptied of milk, my small B-cup breasts delighted in his fondling hands. I shivered when his lips brushed my ear and he said "Your tits drive me insane, Tracy. Insane. Such perfect tits for such a perfect little Mommy."
I had tits for Thomas, not breasts. Breasts were for the baby, and for my husband, the juvenile word he loved, boobs. But for my commanding father-in-law there was no pretension – I had tits, and they were in his hands, and I was starting to feel an orgasm slowly building.
I wondered how far my husband's father would take us. I wasn't sure what I wanted, or what I would do when it happened. I reached up with my hands, and rubbed his more firmly against my breasts. Even though recently emptied, arousal was making milk drops leak through the nipples, and Thomas's hands were rubbing the milk all over my small tight globes.
I shuddered when he murmured "I have to taste you," and he moved his head to lick the nearest nipple. I wondered if he could taste anything but nipple cream, but the lick became a suck and my milk went into a grown man's mouth for the very first time. My vulva was throbbing now. I hadn't cum at another person's touch in months.
I lowered one of my hands to touch my pubis, and Thomas's hand came with mine. I thought my head would explode – one hand was still kneading my breast, one hand was stroking my pussy lips, and our heads turned together and we locked lips in a torrid kiss. He was still behind the sofa, leaning over and around me. I desperately wanted to know how hard he was, and how big. I suddenly wanted to know what he tasted like. My orgasm was so close. If I could just touch his cock I would explode.
"Dad? Tracy? The baby is awake."
We both looked at Bradley, shuffling from one foot to the other, apparently hesitant to enter the room in which his wife was being seduced by his father. While our heads had turned, breaking our kiss, our hands were still pleasuring me top and bottom. My climax, so imminent a second before, vanished.
I knew I could tell Brad to get a bottle of pumped milk from the kitchen and leave us alone again, but the magic spell was broken.
"Thomas," I said, "let's you and I continue this tomorrow, OK? I think I need some time alone with Bradley now." As he took a step back I turned and touched the front of his bulging trousers. He was indeed hard. His wife would reap that harvest, I thought sadly.
Later, in our bedroom Bradley tried to initiate sex with me and I kind of shut him down. Holding his erection in my hand, I told him that I "don't feel like sex tonight." This was common since my pregnancy. I had almost no libido at all since the birth, a common post-partum issue, according to my doctor.
I stroked him tenderly, however, as I usually did when my body was closed to him. Cumming in my hand was his normal consolation prize these days, and I imagined he had a good load saved up for me after the afternoon's surprises. I returned his kisses and slowly pumped his penis. "But just because I don't feel like sex doesn't mean you can't cum, honey," I urged him.
"You don't feel like it now," he whined. "But it looked like you felt like sex this afternoon," he added petulantly.
I was annoyed, and a bit guilty. I remembered the too-brief feel of his father's hard cock, and knew I couldn't deny his accusation. In fact I have no idea how far we might have gone if left to ourselves, but my husband was close to the truth.
I said, "That's different, Bradley. I did want sex this afternoon. I might have had it, too, if you hadn't interrupted me." My words electrified my husband, and he ejaculated one of his biggest loads ever into my grasping, pumping hand.
Soon he was sleeping soundly next to me while I tossed and turned, wondering where we were headed, sexually. Could I really have sex with his father? Only with difficulty did I eventually find sleep myself. My nipples throbbed even as I dreamt.
At 1:00 am the baby cried and woke me. I went to his room, scooped him up in my arms, and sat in the nursing chair. As he suckled my breast I remembered Thomas briefly drinking me that afternoon, and began to feel excited again. I slowly rubbed my clitoris as the baby sucked, and I thought of my Father-in-law sucking my nipple, and I finally had a very small but real orgasm, in my nursing chair, husband sleeping down the hall.
I settled the baby in his crib, cleaned my nipples with a wipe, and slowly massaged the lanolin onto my nipples. I closed my eyes, let go of the real world for a moment, and enjoyed the soothing feelings. My mind drifted back to times my husband applied the cream, and then to that afternoon, when his father had taken over. I made a decision there in the dark that would alter all our lives, then tiptoed back to bed. I crawled in next to my husband, whose whole world I was about to change. He was snoring peacefully, unaware.
I was already wet again, down there. My libido was back.
I woke before Bradley the next morning, awakened by the baby's cries. As I sat in the nursing chair, my husband came into the nursery and sat at my feet. He loved to be near me when I fed – it gave him a sort of connection, too. He gently placed his arm over my thighs and rested his head against my knees. I petted his messy hair but remained silent.
"About yesterday," he started abruptly, then fell silent. I think he didn't know what he wanted to say about yesterday, only that something needed saying.
After a pause, I spoke. "Yesterday was difficult for you, Bradley. I'm so proud how well you handled yourself." Putting it right out there, I continued, "your father is so demanding. I know it isn't easy for you to be a man in your own house when he treats you like a boy all the time."
His silence encouraged me to continue voicing his thoughts for him. "You're such a good son to your parents, Bradley. Not many men would buy the house their father suggested just because Mom and Dad wanted us close. Your Dad always wants to lead everyone, and he just expects us to follow."
"I love my parents, Tracy. I'm lucky you understand."
"Bradley, I love my parents, too, but we live far from them because your father wants us close. He wants us to be part of his family."
I reached for my cup of warm water, my nursing drink. Bradley remained silent again and stroked my thighs as I rubbed his hair. I let the silence linger and expand as my husband considered his next thought.
"We already are part of his family, Tracy. He won't be satisfied just having us as neighbors. We both know he wants more."
I knew what I was going to say, but let Bradley squirm with his thoughts of Thomas taking more. I could have squirmed a little too, if I hadn't restrained myself. Bradley had to see this through in his own mind.
"He did it before. In college. I mean I was in college, and I fell in love, and I brought her home at Christmas to meet my parents."
I allowed the silence to calm him.
"He took her from me. Right there in our house. Then he bought her a ticket home and sent her packing. I saw her again, back on campus, and she never spoke about it. But I knew, and she knew I did. It was humiliating."
"It won't ever be like that, Bradley. I love you, and he can't take that. He can't send me away, separate us. I adore you just the way you are. Don't worry about the other thing. It isn't that big a deal as long as you and I love each other and our baby boy."
We both knew what "the other thing" was. He turned his head and kissed my thigh. Now I allowed myself to squirm. Bradley thought it was his lips on my upper thighs, but I squirmed imagining that college girl being speared by her boyfriend's father, in his house, in his bed, years before. Planting his claim inside his young son's sweetheart, then tossing her aside, sending her away, done with her. But her not done being a living humiliation to my husband. Attending classes with his father's conquest. Smiling at the young woman who gave up his penis for his father's. God, did I squirm, damp now.

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