Hush, Bobby

"Hush," I muttered, rocking my four-month-old son Bobby distractedly. "Come on, go to sleep. Please. For the love of God. Your mother and I are both exhausted. Come on, little dude. Get some sleep for Daddy."

Amazingly, as if he had heard and understood the pleading in my voice, Bobby's high-pitched yells started to soften into grizzling. Apparently my beseeching had achieved what multiple breastfeeds, a bottle of formula, two nappy changes, a dose of colic medicine, several story-books and about an hour and a half of walking up and down, rocking and singing could not. In time, the grizzling settled into snuffling, and then suddenly his breathing slowed into the rhythmic pattern that suggested sleep.

Very gingerly, I placed him into his cot. He twitched slightly as his head touched the pillow, and I felt a pang of dread at the thought of yet another night like the last few weeks...but then he settled down again, his little hand clutching my finger. I felt another pang, this time of love. I was quickly discovering, as all new parents inevitably do, that it is much easier to love your kids when they are fast asleep.

Holding my breath, not daring to hope too soon, I crept from the bedroom and closed the door, then made my way through to the living-room. Annie looked up from her magazine as I came in. She had become an avid reader of those mother-and-baby glossies lately. I'd looked through one a while ago and was, personally, unimpressed. They all seemed to be full of perfect, groomed parents with flawless, chubby-cheeked smiling kids.

"Hey, Jim," she said. "It says here that babies who fuss at night like Bobby does may not be stimulated enough during the day. Perhaps I should think about taking him out more – you know, to mother and baby groups, that sort of thing. Or we could get one of those jungle gyms..."

I was about to go off on one of my rants about over-priced baby tat and ridiculous pressure from the media and the medical profession to be a 'good parent' at all times. But then, for the first time in weeks, I looked at my wife properly – and compassion silenced me.

She was dressed in a baggy T-shirt and pyjama trousers, and her auburn hair was pulled back from her face in a scrunchie, making her look younger than her twenty-five years. Her pale skin was even more so from lack of sleep and her eyes had big dark circles under them. She looked so cute and vulnerable that I couldn't help myself. I went over to her, knelt in front of the sofa where she sat, and encased her in a huge hug.

She snuggled into my shoulder. "This is nice," she sighed. "It feels like I haven't been able to get near you for ages."

"Tell me about it," I said. We'd had sex twice since Bobby had been born, and both times had been half-clothed quickies which we had persevered with even through his howling. I couldn't remember the last time I'd actually had the chance to fully appreciate my wife's body – and although she constantly complained about saggy skin, stretch marks and weight gain, all I saw was the woman I loved and desired over all others.

Suddenly I felt her lips pressing into the base of my neck. My hold on her waist tightened reflexively. She had showered about an hour ago and her hair was still damp, and smelt of the coconut shampoo she used. God, how badly I wanted her. Her mouth was exploring the length of my neck now, playfully nipping my skin, and her hands were grasping my hair.

"Mmmm." My mouth found hers. "I've missed you."

It was a weird thing to say on the face of it seeing as we lived together, but I think she knew what I meant. For a long time we made out like teenagers, relishing the sensations that lips and tongues could produce. In fact it wasn't until her questing hands found my crotch that I even realised how hard I was.

"And I've missed you," she said, looking at the telltale bulge. I laughed. "Nice to know that the horrors of pregnancy and childbirth haven't totally destroyed all former lust for me."

"And it's nice to know that my post-baby body hasn't put you off me."

"I don't think it has," I said, smiling. "But I haven't seen you naked for a while, so perhaps I'd better check and make sure."

She lifted her arms, giggling, as I started to peel off the unflattering T-shirt. Beneath it was an equally unflattering nursing bra. I took a few moments to gaze at her luscious breasts, which had become even larger and fuller since Bobby.

"I'm guessing these are off-limits," I said, with more than a tinge of regret. I hadn't had a look-in there either; I knew that breastfeeding was good for babies, but I still envied Bobby his monopoly over his mother's boobs.

"Not necessarily," she said flirtatiously. "You'll just need to be gentle."

"I'll try," I said.

Slowly, like it was my first time, I undid the bra and pulled it off over her arms. Her nipples had enlarged, and darkened from the light pink of pre-pregnancy to a darker, rosy tint. I ached to have them in my mouth, but settled instead for the lightest of strokes over the swell of her breasts, stopping short of the areolas. The gasp and shudder that this elicited alarmed me; had I hurt her? But then her back arched and her legs spread wider apart, inviting me to carry on. Jeez – it had been so long, apparently, that I couldn't even tell when my own wife was turned on. I listened for any sound from Bobby's room and heard nothing. Good; I was going to make the most of this window of peace.

"Oh yes," she moaned. "Touch me, Jim. Touch me everywhere."

"Gladly," I said. And so, taking her command literally, I did. Hair, face, neck, arms, back...everywhere there was bare skin, I stroked, still taking care not to touch her nipples because I knew they would probably have had quite enough contact from Bobby. She was warm and soft, and having a baby had made her curvier than ever – like some kind of lush fertility goddess. It also seemed to have made her a lot more touch-sensitive. She writhed and moaned like she was in a porn movie, bucking her hips against me and wrapping her legs around the backs of my thighs. It had been so long since I had experienced this Annie, this hot and sexy lover who knew exactly what she wanted, that for a moment I was worried I wasn't going to be able to satisfy her. Having wriggled out of her pyjama bottoms, she was now divesting me of my own clothing, returning the attention I was giving her with added kisses wherever she could reach.

"God, you're soaking wet," I whispered as the head of my cock brushed against her pussy, which very nearly swallowed me whole even from that brief contact.

"I've been going out of my mind with wanting you," she whispered back.

"Me too."

I wanted inside her; but I wanted to play awhile first. I manoeuvred myself so that the head of my cock was up against her clit and started to thrust gently so that they rubbed against one another. This had been a favourite foreplay move of ours for a long time.

"Oh God," she cried. "Yes, just like that." She grabbed my hands and put them back on her breasts. As she did, several jets of milk escaped her nipples, spraying prettily over her stomach. My breath caught at this sight. I had been a bit ambivalent about the idea of her lactating, since the unspoken message I'd picked up from all the midwives, health visitors and ante-natal groups was that milky boobs were for babies only – but that milk spray was one of the most erotic things I had ever seen. Impulsively I bent my head and licked the droplets off her. The taste was rich and sweet, and very moreish. When I looked up, her eyes were glowing with lust.

"Drink me," she said, her voice guttural. When I hesitated, she pulled my mouth to her nipple and held my head there. I sucked gently, and was rewarded with more of my wife's delicious milk and her equally sweet moans of pleasure. My confidence increasing, I sucked harder, pushing my tongue against her breast to make it flow faster. She tasted incredible; I could never have dreamed of being allowed to sample this particular delight, but now that I had I wondered why it wasn't something I had ever heard of couples doing before.

Too soon, it seemed, there was no more to be had...from that side, at any rate. Annie was all too pleased to let me empty her other breast too. It was amazing how they started out tense and hard, and became softer as they emptied. All the while my cock was still rubbing against her clit – and just as the flow of milk was starting to slow down, I felt her clit throb and quiver and heard her breathing quicken as she came, gushing a different kind of fluid all over my shaft – so much so that it ran down my ball sack too, in little rivulets.

I needed to fuck her, now, this second. Without releasing my mouth's grip on her nipple, I pushed myself inside her, marvelling at the extreme wetness of her and her pussy's total lack of any resistance. In spite of having given birth, she was still tight; I vaguely remembered her saying something about doing pelvic floor exercises and was very glad that she had made the effort. However, my extreme horniness got the better of me. I could not have managed more than half a dozen thrusts before coming so hard I felt like I was going to turn inside-out. In fact, it was one of the most painful orgasms I had ever had – albeit in a good way.

Luckily, though, all the build-up and the amount of time since I'd last had sex also meant that my hard-on wasn't in a hurry to leave – and I certainly wasn't about to stop if my body would let me carry on. Overcome anew by desire for my beautiful wife, I fucked her like my life depended on it, pulling her legs up onto my shoulders to give me greater access. She gasped with each thrust and pushed her thighs against me to control how deep I could go. This only added fuel to my fire. I loved it when she resisted me. Putting my hands behind her knees, I pushed down, splaying her legs further apart. She gave a snarl of pain and surprise, and then with a deft twisting movement she flipped onto her side and slid down so that her head was between my legs.

"I see," I said softly. "You want a nice mouthful too, do you?"

Her answer was to practically swallow my cock whole, her head thrown back so that I was able to fuck her mouth. She took me in right up to the hilt, making the most shockingly erotic wet slurping sounds with every thrust, her fingers frantically fiddling with her clit at the same time. Knowing that she was playing with herself whilst sucking me off did what it always did – made me go from about halfway to orgasm to all the way over the edge in a heartbeat. As my cum spurted down her throat, her body trembled and her hips bucked as she too came for the second time that evening.

At that precise moment, I heard a wail from Bobby's room. I looked at Annie. She looked at me. And then we both burst out laughing. It felt so good to have relieved all that tension that somehow, the problem that was our son's erratic sleeping pattern seemed a lot less insurmountable now.

"I knew it was too good to last," she said.

"True. He did at least let us finish though. He's learning. I'll go and see to him if you like. I'd quite like a word with him in private."

As it turned out, Bobby only wanted a cuddle and some reassurance. As I rocked him in my arms and looked at his peacefully sleeping face, I whispered, "Thanks, little guy. And maybe one day, when you've got kids of your own, you'll understand what for."