Time would tell, he thought.
The young couple packed up their belongings and moved into their new place that weekend. Running from room to room, holding hands, oohing and ahhing at every new discovery, they were on cloud nine. Their new home was so much bigger and better than their old apartment.
The old man watched their antics tolerantly, a tiny smile pulling at the right side of his mouth.
“Enjoy this weekend, boy, you won’t have many more like it,” Grampa told Tyler. “You start Monday. Be up and ready to go by five a.m. and I’ll take you over to meet my foreman.”
“Wait, what?!” Tyler squeaked through a suddenly dry throat. “Did you say five a clock?”
“That’s right,” the old man said with a smirk. “You got a lot to learn and we don’t have much time.”
Tyler nodded dumbly.
“Get settled in,” Grampa said gruffly. “This is your home now. You can do whatever you want to with it, just don’t break shit.”
Then the old man spun on his heel and walked briskly out the door. He looked ancient but he didn’t move like a decrepit old man, his movements were brisk and precise and his brain and wit were as just as sharp.
They watched him through the window as he walked to the farm’s main house only 50 yards away from their new home. Another 50 yards or so beyond were a series of barns and pens.
They looked at each other, each holding a child in their arms, and smiled excitedly.
Early that Monday morning Tyler left the house, sluggish and groggy from a poor night’s sleep. It was his first day as a farmer and though he felt up to the challenge, he was nervous and hadn’t been able to sleep.
Yvette saw him to the door with their newborn cradled carefully in her slender arms. She’d draped a tiny blanket over the baby as she suckled at her breast. She knew it made her young husband uncomfortable and embarrassed to see her breastfeed. It was one of the most natural things in the world but he always turned away or left the room when she nursed the baby.
She gave him a one-armed hug, pecked his lips and slapped his rump to see him off.
His world would be new and exciting and hers would be just the same as before, only in a new place.
Yvette sighed, turned around, went back in the house and sat on her rocking chair… more like a glide chair. The deeply cushioned wooden contraption didn’t rock back and forth on two round wooden rails, it glided smooth and easy.
She pulled the blanket away and looked down at the tiny pink face. Her heart contracted in her chest at the flood of emotion she felt when she looked at the miniature person in her arms, at the feeling of pure love that flooded her entire being.
The tiny hands were tightly clenched, squeezing each side of her massive boob, her cheeks were drawn in and her entire body bobbed as she gulped the sweet milk flooding her mouth.
Yvette grasped a tiny arm and placed her pinky finger in the baby’s hand, watching the grip tighten around her smallest finger.
She rocked back and forth gently, crooning a nonsense tune, caressed the fine silky hair on her baby’s head and breathed in her unique baby scent, redolent of milk, talcum powder and fresh bread.
After a few minutes, she pulled the baby away, her mouth unlatching with a tiny wet slurp, flipped her to her other side, and just as the baby started to whimper in indignation at being denied her rightful boob, she turned her head and her rooting mouth immediately found her mother’s other fat nipple and latched on with a gentle sigh of satisfaction.
Fifteen minutes later, after changing a wet and stinky diaper, she put the deeply sleeping baby in a white, lattice bassinet in the bedroom.
As usual, Yvette was involuntarily aroused afterwards. Her nipples were incredibly sensitive. She’d read somewhere that some women lost all sensation in their nipples when they breastfed, but she wasn’t one of them. If anything they were even more sensitive than they’d been before she got pregnant.
She felt a sense of shame and embarrassment at her body’s involuntary reaction yet she needed relief.
Just as she quietly took a step towards the bathroom to root in the box where she’d hidden her small slender vibrator, her other daughter trotted into the room with a high-pitched squeal of delight, startling the sleeping baby and sending her into wails of fright and indignation.
“Honey, I told you to be quiet in the morning,” Yvette chastised her daughter.
Tears filled the child’s eyes and she started to wail along with her baby sister.
And so another average day started for Yvette.
She spent the day emptying boxes, putting away the family belongings, putting everything to rights. She also cooked and cleaned, and every three hours or so sat on her rocking chair and breastfed the baby. It was tiring work, never-ending and, as much as she loved her kids, mind-numbingly tedious.
She’d barely given birth two weeks before and yet their lives had changed so much since.
———————————–
On their third day there, Tyler left even earlier that morning and she and the kids were working on developing a new routine. At around 10 a.m. she strapped the baby in her carrier, latched it onto the stroller, pulled the sunshade up, grabbed her toddler’s hand and went outside to let her romp in the yard and hopefully work out some of her nearly inexhaustible energy.
Yvette was so absorbed with her children that she didn’t even glance at her great-great-grandfather’s house only 50 yards away or so.
The old man sat on a rocking chair in the wraparound porch, enjoying the cool breeze and admiring the fine view of his land as he always did, even on rainy days.
He’d been staring pensively into the distance with a cup of black coffee in his hands, his soul hollow with loneliness, when he heard the door to the cabin open. There was a high-pitched squeal of joy then the clatter of clomping tiny little feet as his great-great-great-granddaughter rushed out of the house, crossed the porch and ran for it like an escaped prisoner, giggling manically with joy.
The old man smiled wide, revealing large crooked yellow teeth and two dark holes where teeth should’ve been, a lower right and a lower left canine.
He watched as Yvette came into sight, pushed a lever down on the stroller, probably the brake, and trotted awkwardly after the toddler. She wore a snug yellow nursing dress that allowed her to maintain her modesty and yet gave her the ability to pull out a breast to nurse her infant when the need arose.
Grampa, sat up straight, eyes widening as the slim curvy girl with such enormous tits ran after the child. His eyes nearly popped out of his head at the sight of all that tit-flesh bouncing, swaying and quivering, at her long shapely legs churning and slim arms pumping in her efforts to catch up to the little one.
She finally caught her, picked her up and started back toward where she’d left the stroller on the covered porch. The toddler squirmed and started to scream and cry, waking the newborn in her carrier and sending her into paroxysms of frightened squalling.
She hurriedly put the toddler down and stood clutching her dull hair in frustration.
Grampa strained higher in his chair and watched in disbelief as dark wet circles appeared in the front of the young mother’s dress, as her enormous milk-filled breasts let down and milk started to flow. In seconds, the front of her dress was drenched and the toddler was off again in another daring escape attempt.
He stared for another few seconds, admiring the way the soaked dress stuck wetly to the girl’s body, showing off her amazing curves and reminding him that he hadn’t lain with a woman in more than ten years. He felt himself harden but his ardor instantly cooled as he stood and clopped down the porch stairs to run after the child.
Frustrated, Yvette stared after the fleeing child then leaned down to pull the screaming infant from the carrier and cradled her high on her chest. She’d just nursed and wasn’t ready to eat but she considered offering her a nipple to quiet her down.
Yvette looked up again to stare after the running child, wondering what to do and noticed Grampa shuffle down the porch stairs, trot after the girl, catch her and toss her into the air, to the toddler’s great delight.
He tossed her up again, enjoying the high pitched giggles it produced.
When he moved to set her on her feet, the child clung to him like a leech and said “again, again,” so he straightened and tossed her high again half a dozen more times.
In the meantime, Yvette turned her back, pulled out her left boob, which was full of milk, pressed her baby’s face against it until the infant turned her head and latched on, and then she pulled a blanket from the carrier and covered herself and the baby.
As always, the stimulation to her nipples aroused her but as usual she ignored it.
When she turned back around, Grampa had set the toddler on her feet and was trotting after her making snorting growling noises. She ran giggling from him, her fat little legs churning tirelessly.
Finally, the toddler pitched face first onto the grass, her face was flushed red and her tiny chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath.
The old man scooped her up and carried her smiling back to her mother.
The child squirmed weakly wanting to do it again but the old man swung her up and sat her on his stooped shoulders where she gripped a jug ear with one tiny hand, slapped his bald liver-spotted head with the other and kicked her tiny legs in delight at the new adventure while he held her firm with twisted arthritic hands.
“Oh my god, Grampa, thank you so much,” Yvette said with a wide smile filled with relief and gratitude. “It probably would’ve taken me all day to catch her if you hadn’t stopped by.”
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