It had just started to snow when I left work. I only had to brush about a quarter of an inch of the early December whiteness off my car before I could start my trek home through the Friday night traffic. Unfortunately, the light snow thickened quickly bringing my half hour commute to a virtual standstill more times than I cared for. My wife was both happy she was in Florida and missing the commute, and sad that she was missing the snow, both of us sure that the changeable Missouri weather would clear it away before she could get home the end of next week.
I made my way down the dead-end road we lived on, the car tires crunching through the almost three inches of undisturbed snow well past dinner time. I parked in the garage and stopped to shovel the sidewalk before it got completely dark and the new snow froze into a solid block of ice. With that task done, I headed inside to build a nice big fire in the wood stove and push the winter chill from my aging bones. At fifty I didn't take the cold as well as I used to, and even as short time as it took to shovel the walk was enough chill me.
With a TV dinner cooked, a roaring fire pumping heat out of the stove, and an old western on the tube, I settled into my recliner for a relaxing but lonely evening. The wood stove heated the house nicely, but also pushed the temperature in the living room well into the eighties with a fresh fire roaring in the steel chamber. As I sat in just a pair of shorts and a light weight t-shirt, munching on the TV dinner, I lamented that my wife's new promotion involved as much time away as it did, but then everything in life has its price. In this case, time away from each other in exchange for a challenge she was thoroughly enjoying. Oh yeah, the six figure income doesn't hurt either.
The movie was almost over when I was startled by the doorbell. I groused to myself about the interruption just at the climax of the movie and climbed from my recliner to pad toward the door, pausing just long enough to slip on my slippers.
I pulled the door open, the cold wind easily pushing through the thin athletic shorts and t-shirt I had on.
"Trina?" I asked in surprise, looking at the young lady that lived across the cul-de-sac, her barely year old little girl in her arms, the two of them wrapped in a blanket, neither appearing to be dressed for the weather.
"Michael! Thank goodness you're home!" she said in her thick Slavic accent. "The fire alarm in our house is going off and won't stop, but I don't see any smoke!"
"Well. Get in here before you freeze," I said , opening the door farther. "Is Gregor looking at it?" I queried, referring to her husband. The two were recent immigrants from Romania; Gregor a repair specialist in wind turbine equipment. He made very good money climbing the hundreds of feet up the towers to make repairs, but the job had him gone more than home.
"No. He in Kansas again. You look at for me?"
"Sure. Let me grab a coat and boots," I answered as I closed the door behind her.
"Oh. Thank you! I really don't know what we do without all your help!" she said as she followed me into the living room.
"No problem. Just make yourself at home while I check things out," I answered as I rummaged in the closet for my insulated muck boots. Over the last two years I'd become her emergency help on a number of occasions. While my wife and I had only had them over for dinner a couple of times , I'd talked to Trina on a regular basis out front while she was on one of the many walks she took.
I practically ran across to their house, the wind damn cold on my bare legs. It suddenly made me wonder how women wore skirts in this kind of weather. When I walked in the front door I was assaulted by the raucous squalling of not one but at least half a dozen smoke detectors. It took several moments to identify which of the networked alarms was the offending culprit. "Damn," I muttered as I looked at the carbon monoxide detector, flashing 352 at me. I didn't stay long before jogging back to my house.
"It's not a smoke detector. It's carbon monoxide," I said as I peeled my coat off. I stopped mid motion and stared at her, sitting on the sofa with the blanket hanging on her shoulders and her little girl Miya laying on her lap. Under the blanket she had on a semi sheer nightgown that was short enough to leave her entire long slender legs bare below where her daughter lay sleepily, and even a portion of her butt. My eyes were drawn to her chest, and her dark areola, easily discernible through the thin material. Her breasts weren't large, but the b or maybe c cup mounds looked plenty large on her petite frame.
"Carbon monoxide?" she asked, dragging my brain back to reality.
"Yeah. It's a poisonous gas."
"Poisonous? Oh lord!"
"Yeah. Maybe furnace. Better call the fire department. They can check it out safely."
After a quick call to 911, the fire trucks arrived. Two hours later they declared the house safe, though with the faulty furnace turned off. There wasn't any way she was getting anyone out tonight to work on it, so I offered her the guest room for the night. I showed her the room and put out some fresh towels in the guest bath before returning to the living room to find her again sitting without the blanket, her nightgown pulled up over her right breast to nurse her daughter.
"I should probably leave you alone to do that."
"Oh. Don't be silly. This is your house. Besides, I'm not bashful about my boobs anymore."
"You're sure?" I asked, standing in front of my recliner, only half a dozen feet from her.
"Of course! Sit down. It be fine!" she answered with a smile.
I sat back down with a shrug and turned the TV to the late night news. I tried not to stare, but couldn't stop myself from looking as her daughter unlatched from her right breast, leaving it completely exposed. As she moved her from one to the other, she lifted the night gown above her left breast, exposing not only both breasts, but as she moved her daughter, revealing that the nightgown was all she had on.
I tried to focus on the news program while her daughter nursed on her left breast, but couldn't help but notice that her free right hand had slipped between her slightly spread legs. Her eyes were closed and she let out a soft moan as her fingers moved between her legs. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't keep my dick from hardening and bulging my shorts out obscenely.
"Oh god," she mumbled softly as she sat stock still, her only motion the slight trembling of her legs.
I had to say I was surprised that she had just fingered herself to orgasm sitting only a long arm's length away from me on my sofa. She looked over at me a little guiltily, her eyes dropping to my bulging shorts.
"Sorry," she whispered softly, clearly embarrassed at being caught doing that. Sometimes when she nurses she get me so, how you say, turned on? That I can't help it."
"Um. Okay," I answered, not sure what to say.
"Let me go put her on bed. She's almost asleep," she said as she pushed herself up off the sofa. She turned to walk away, the nightgown still hooked above her breasts, leaving her ass completely bare as she walked toward the hallway, her fat round pussy lips flashing into view with each step. I waited until she'd disappeared down the hall before sticking my hand down my shorts to resettle things.
She walked back down the hall toward me, the little nightgown barely long enough to cover the juncture of her legs, her tuft of dark curls showing through as clearly as her areola and hard nipples. "It a bit embarrassing when that happens," she said after sitting down, her eyes fixed on the TV instead of looking at me. "I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable."
"Um. No. I mean, maybe a little."
"If you'd rather, I can nurse her in the other room."
"Uuuu. No. It's fine," I answered, having a hard time taking my eyes off of her body. "Does that happen a lot?"
She looked over at me and down to my clearly outlined dick. "Does that?"
"I really can't control it," I answered a little defensively.
"Same here," she said with the slightest of a crooked smile on her lips. "So now you know my secret. I hate to nurse in public anymore because I can no stop it from happening. Sometimes I even, um, climax with just her nursing."
"Wow. That's gotta be tough."
