I was living a double life -- with double the love! My daughter was a beautiful bundle of pride and joy. Daddy was keeping me fully satisfied, both in bed and outside. With hubby away on assignment (bless him!), we had the house to ourselves.
The baby required a lot of attention, but luckily Daddy was besotted with his new daughter. He was always at hand, helping me in everything, from changing nappies to feeding & putting her to sleep. In fact Daddy was probably spending more time with our daughter than me!
In helping me Daddy had his own vested interest. As he himself confessed, he did not want me to get too tired to make love. At his insistence, the baby was usually given bottle feed, except when hubby was at home. Otherwise, Daddy reserved all my breast milk for himself. He would nurse as soon he woke up and whenever he felt like taking a sip. He started milking my breasts into his morning coffee and cornflakes. I would stoop over the dining table, as Daddy pulled at my nipples to milk me into his cup or bowl. My nipples grew longer due to the frequent tugging and pulling.
When the baby was three months old, my mother wanted to see her grandchild. Daddy agreed to take me to my home town for a brief visit. We took a day long train journey in an air conditioned coach. Since I was visiting my home town, I was demurely dressed in a saree and blouse. During the entire 6 hour journey, Daddy had his arm around me, and under my blouse. I was occupying the window seat, with the baby in my lap.
My hubby was an extremely proud father. He was convinced that the baby resembled his side of the family -- and why not? I certainly did not want to argue the point! Our sex life was as bland as before. Hubby felt he had done his duty and proved his virility by impregnating me. His feeble love making ceased to hold any fascination for me.
Although our sex life was nothing to write about, I was still a dutiful wife. I would take care of his meals, cooking his favourite meals whenever he was in town. I kept his clothes clean and attended to all his needs. Whenever he was in town, we used to meet with friends, party and have fun. It was just our sexual appetites that were not in harmony. Hubby thought sex was a small part of our relationship, whereas my needs were much higher than he could satisfy.
When I look back, it appears ridiculous. Here was my husband, a young man, supposedly in the peak of his health, but with a sexual desire that was minimal. Sometimes I thought he was having an affair on the side. Initially I felt angry, and even wounded that he could even be with another woman. Then I realized what I was involved in, but although the hurt felt less, my womanly suspicion was aroused.
Once I jokingly asked hubby whether he had any flings during his long assignments away from town. He laughed it off, but I was not satisfied. I pretended to be angry and pretended to sulk for several hours before he relented. Hubby finally gave in. He led me to the prayer room and swore on our daughter that he had never touched any woman other than me.
My relationship and escapades with Daddy continued unabated. In the beginning, I had to take the initiative. As time went by, Daddy got more and more comfortable. He began to slowly take charge, which I believe is the way it should be. The women's liberation movement is a fraud. Secretly every woman craves for a strong man, who dominates her in their relationship. It is what nature intended.
Daddy would never allow me to wear panties and bra when we were alone. His advanced age had not diminished his sexual desire one bit. He would always have an arm caressing my nipple or stroking my pussy. He particularly enjoyed shoving a finger up my rectum, often making me jump when he caught me unawares. Sometimes he would grab me, twist my face and give me a long kiss. He would insist on leaving a heavy ball of his saliva in my mouth, marking me as his own.
Our bathroom games of pee and scat were put in abeyance by mutual consent. I did not want to participate until I had weaned the baby. Daddy was caught in two minds. On one side he yearned to release his golden fluid down my throat and feel my velvet tongue clean his anus. At the same time he had got addicted to my breast milk of which he was now almost the sole beneficiary.
Daddy knew that the baby was growing and so decided to make the best use of my remaining lactating time. All night he would suck and drain by breasts. Day time was no different. Sometimes I felt I was more a cow than a human. Despite Daddy's best efforts to keep the milk flowing, my supply began to peter out. Sometimes he would suck in vain, trying to entice the life giving fluid. I even felt sorry for him and tried to help by trying to let down milk into his eager mouth.
Our baby was now 6 months old. She began to recognize us and slowly even imitating us in her own small way. Once she grabbed my nipple and began to try and milk me like she saw Daddy doing. Both of us realized that we had to be more careful. I forbade Daddy from sucking my nipples and other obvious acts in her presence.
