His eyebrows raised, as he said, “Mary Watkins huh…. That’s a name I
haven’t heard in a long time. She and your mom were pregnant at the same
time when she had you. Come to think of it,” he said “this all sounds a bit
familiar….” And then he chuckled nervously.
“What are you laughing at dad!” I asked. “What’s so funny?!” “Oh no..” he
replied, “that’s not a conversation I’m having with you!”
Now my curiosity had really peaked. “Oh come on dad!” I said “You can’t
just walk over here, make comments like that, and then laugh it up, when my
tits are about ready to erupt!” I said laughing. “Now fess up!” I demanded.
“Yeah well, still,” he said, “I don’t know if it would be an appropriate
conversation for me to be having with my little girl.” He said.
“Oh dad,” I retorted, “as you can see, I’m not so little anymore! I’m
pretty grown-up now that I’ve had a baby and all you know. And if it’ll
help me, I’d really like to know.”
“Well,” he continued, fidgeting around and looking down. “I have heard
that saying before you know. “Prime the pump.” In the same context that
you’re referring to.” He continued. “You see,” he said, “ you and Dakker
are not that much different. We had the same problem with you when you were
a brand new baby girl. Wouldn’t latch on for nothing. And well, as you
know, your mom and Mary, they were good friends. Mary told your mom the
exact same thing that you were just telling me now. Only problem is, that
back in those days we didn’t have a money for one of those new fancy
pumps.” “So,” he added, with another little chuckle, “we sort of just
improvised.”
“What do you mean, you improvised, “ I questioned, then it dawned on me
what he might be talking about. I’m sure my eyes must of gotten pretty big,
because as soon as I looked at him, he turned three different shades of
red and quickly looked away. “Oh,…” I said, “I see….”
As I looked in his direction, I also noticed a prominent bulge, now
protruding from his denim jeans. Was he really getting aroused talking
about all the stuff, I thought to myself? I smiled a bit, I hadn’t had sex
in ages. And here my dad was getting all worked up talking to his daughter
about boobs, and breast-feeding. If I was being honest myself, I had also
noticed a little dampness emanating from between my legs.
Looking down I realized, that Dakker had drifted off to sleep. Suddenly he
twisted a bit as he slept he kicked me really good in the tit. Wincing in
pain, I cradled my right breast, tucking it slightly underneath my arm.
“Holy shit that hurts!” I cried out.
And bringing myself back to reality, I realized that I was stuck in a very
difficult situation, that had no plausible, good outcome. I was really
crying pretty good, when I felt too strong hands gently and firmly grab a
hold of my shoulders.
“I’m so sorry baby.” my father said, “I sure wish there was something I
could do.”
“Don’t you see!” I yelled back at him now forgetting myself. “There is
something you can do!” I cried. “Oh God, dad!” I exclaimed, “I know it
would be really weird, and I can’t believe I’m even asking you this. But if
I don’t get some relief now,” I cried out, “you’re going to have to take me
to the hospital. And that’s over 300 miles away. I might just die in the
car!
wpDiscuz