Your erotic stories

Matilda Swanson stepped off the bus into the Colorado January sun. She clutched a heavy coat purchased in St. Louis during an overnight layover. The Florida native gritted chattering teeth and cursed the cold. A breathtaking view spread out before her. Far below and miles away, her husband performed his duty as a soldier training at Fort Carson. Teaching high school art classes may have been his calling, but he loved being a medic in the Army Reserves almost as much.

“Tilly, over here,” her father-in-law shouted and waved as he waited for a line of slow moving cars to pass before he crossed the street. When a gap formed, he jogged to stand beside the young woman and followed her gaze into the distance. “Let’s get in my truck. It’s warm.”

Tilly had mentally rehearsed a greeting, but her tongue stumbled over the words when she started talking. She had met the man the day before her wedding to his son, and he asked her to call him “Papa” then. They had only spoken on a few occasions since that day. She wasn’t used to the name that seemed overly familiar given their relationship so far. She had never known her father or any grandparents and couldn’t remember ever uttering the word.

He opened the passenger door for her. When Tilly struggled to lift a foot to the high step into the cab, he grasped her hips and hoisted her in. She reached for the handhold to pull herself the rest of the way while he steadied her. “We’ll have to work something out for the car seat,” he said in a way that assured he had the matter well in hand.

Tilly noted a kick as she fussed to find the buckle for her seatbelt under the overhang of her coat. Papa watched her struggle and said, “Let me help.” She sat back and he snapped the belt tight enough to compress the heavy coat between her swollen breasts. Tilly tugged on the shoulder strap for some slack but found it locked.

Papa had left the truck running to fill the cab with blessed warmth. Tilly unzipped her coat while Papa merged with traffic on the two-lane highway headed west into the mountains. She watched him drive in silence. He didn’t ask her about her trip or the baby or even her husband. A half hour later, the truck rolled to a halt in front of a log home. Gray smoke wafted from three of its four chimneys. She estimated he had enough firewood to build the house again stacked on a long cement slab a few yards from the door.

“What’s the cord for?” Tilly asked as Papa snapped a power cable out from under a dusting of fresh snow.

“It’s for a block warmer,” he explained. “The truck’s got a diesel engine. It can’t start when it’s too cold. There’s an electric warmer to keep things above minimums.” He connected the cable to a short plug hanging out of the truck’s covered radiator.

Inside a small foyer, Tilly kicked off her snow-covered shoes and hung her coat on a peg in the wall. Papa brushed snow off her travel bag and set it on the floor beside her.

“Did the rest of my things arrive?” she asked.

“Already in your room.”

George, Tilly’s husband, had always called Papa’s place a cabin, but Tilly saw it was more than that. The foyer opened to a large space containing a gourmet kitchen, a dining area, and a living room with two fireplaces. Papa pointed to a door off the living room, and Tilly opened it to find a large bedroom. An unmade queen-sized bed occupied the middle. She saw folded sheets and blankets stacked on a shelf. As Papa was busy in the kitchen, Tilly decided to explore her new home.

Five cardboard boxes stacked against a wall contained everything she owned. When George’s unit got called up, he knew he’d have to find a new teaching job. The school pretended to be sympathetic, but they wouldn’t hold his position for the year or more of his deployment. The newlyweds sold their furniture and let the lease on their condo lapse. Tilly shipped everything else to Colorado and bought a bus ticket.

With a baby on the way, it seemed best to stretch George’s meager salary by living with his father during two months of pre-deployment training at Fort Carson. Being less than an hour away meant they’d reunite when he got weekend leave. Tilly couldn’t wait to see her husband. Pregnancy hormones revved her already high libido into overdrive. The two weeks they’d been apart since he reported for duty were a special kind of hell. Being less than an hour away meant he could be present for the birth of his child.

Tilly found a grand bathroom en suite and shook her head at her reflection in a wall sized mirror. She certainly looked eight months pregnant. “You’re going to be a mother. You should have more self control,” she muttered, recalling the times she masturbated during the three day bus ride and blushing with a moment of embarrassment. The first time, she held a demure pose with her thighs crossed and flexed muscles for relief. The second time, she used her hand under a blanket. She suspected one of the other passengers knew.

Tilly relieved her bladder and wiped away excess moisture that wasn’t urine. The bathroom featured one of the luxurious walk-in showers Tilly had only seen in magazines. A clear glass wall formed an S-shaped path preventing water from escaping without requiring a door. An expanse of floor tile under a stained glass window left ample space for a bathtub, but none was installed. The empty space gave Tilly a sensation of being exposed on the toilet. All she could reach from her position was a wicker basket full of toilet paper rolls.

She washed her hands, splashed water on her face, and tucked a few loose strands of hair back into her ponytail. A delicious aroma prompted Tilly to rejoin her father-in-law in the kitchen. The soothing shower she coveted would have to be postponed.

“I know you’re a vegetarian,” he said when she leaned around him to see the cast iron skillet. “It’s acorn squash.” He shook a bag of pine nuts into a thin layer of bubbling oil surrounding the squash and put the whole skillet back in the oven. “Protein,” he said.

Tilly hadn’t said much, and Papa didn’t press her. Over dinner, she complimented him on his home.

“Thank you,” Papa replied with some pride. “It will be tight here. I expected to live alone and didn’t put enough thought into guest accommodations.” When he saw Tilly’s look of concern, he added, “But, I’m delighted to have you.”

Tilly understood he meant what he said, but she still felt awkward. “You really built this by yourself in one year?”

He nodded. She asked where he was going to sleep, and he pointed to a couch.

“Can I borrow your truck to go to the Army Hospital on Tuesday?,” she asked. “I need to check-in and meet the Army’s obstetrician.”

He nodded and answered, “That’s fine, or I can drive you.”

Papa didn’t own a TV. He stretched out on his couch under a flannel blanket and worked on one of the super high-end Apple laptops she’d been coveting for years and could never afford. Tilly felt like chatting, but she didn’t want to disturb whatever he was doing. She made her bed and savored a long hot soak in the gigantic shower. In the morning, she cooked oatmeal for the two of them while Papa fetched logs and stoked the fires. She noticed he carried a half-full glass bottle out with him and brought it back empty.

~~~~~ ~~~~~

To Tilly’s pleasant surprise, the obstetrician was a woman. Everything checked out normal. The doctor even ordered an ultrasound performed during her checkup. Tilly floated out to the parking lot on an emotional high to show Papa a high resolution printout of his granddaughter. He smiled and squeezed her shoulder with one hand. They spent the afternoon shopping in Colorado Springs. Papa insisted on paying for everything. Tilly tried to argue, but the man was immovable, and she gave up.

Back at the cabin, Papa asked to use his bathroom. Tilly laughed and said, “Of course, it’s your house.” He showered and emerged in a tailored suit. “Are you going out?” she asked.

“It’s dance night.”

Tilly almost asked to accompany him before an ill-timed kick and her tired back reminded her that dancing was a bad idea. Solitude provided an opportunity for Tilly to masturbate and be as loud as she wanted. She found her Hitachi Magic Wand Massager and let it take her over the brink multiple times. She fell asleep and didn’t hear Papa return.

In the morning, Tilly solved the mystery of the half-full glass bottle. She cracked open her bedroom door at dawn to spy Papa peeing into it. She shook her head and quietly closed the door. After breakfast, Papa brushed his teeth at the kitchen sink. He dressed in heavy overalls and chopped wood for an hour. When he returned, Tilly was engrossed in a Netflix video she had download to her craptop the night before. He tapped her knee gently to get her attention and nodded toward the bedroom, “May I?”

“Of course, it’s your house.” She smiled.

Over dinner of leek soup and corn bread, Tilly asked, “Do you cook everything in your skillet?”

Her father-in-law smiled and said, “Old habit.”

She had to admit, the man had a clever system. He chopped the vegetables and heated the soup right in the pan, poured the soup into bowls, mixed the cornbread batter in the pan, and baked the cornbread in the same cast iron. “It certainly cuts down on dishes,” she said.

Tilly had two emails from George waiting when she checked after dinner. He told her about showing the ultrasound pictures to his buddies. Tilly had taken a picture of the printout with her digital camera and sent the picture to him the day before. The other email described how much fun he had making the baby with her. Tilly went to bed early and mentally replayed events leading to the conception. When she could think clearly again, she sent her husband a list of baby names to consider. “Matilda,” was not on the list.

A couple of days passed but George didn’t respond. It bothered her, but it had happened before. Maneuvers sometimes kept George out overnight. She rode her wand to an orgasm and cursed her husband for missing the wanton performance. She looked forward to seeing him on the weekend if he got a pass. When she didn’t hear anything by Friday night, she feared the weekend reunion she badly needed wouldn’t happen. When there was no contact by Sunday night, Tilly cried softly in hormone-charged frustration and loneliness.

Her bedroom door stood open, but Papa knocked anyway. Tilly gave him a smile around tears, and he sat next to her on the bed. He put his arm around her shoulders without saying a word. As she grew accustomed to the closeness, Tilly leaned into Papa’s shoulder. She found it comforting. They sat together in silence for an hour or more until Papa nodded to the bathroom and asked, “May I shower?”

Tilly pushed him to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. “Pushing” was an exaggeration. Papa stood six feet tall and weighed a hundred pounds more than Tilly. It would be more accurate to say Tilly goaded him as a way of emphasizing that he should use his own bathroom without asking every time. Once he was inside though, Tilly realized she needed to pee. “Shit, bad timing,” she whispered and crossed her legs. She wondered where the glass bottle was hidden before acknowledging how impractical that would be.

Tilly knocked on the door, but she heard no answer. He might not have heard over shower noise, so she cracked the door and knocked louder while asking, “Can I come in a moment? I need to pee.”

Papa stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around himself. He displayed an amused smile and opened the door. They edged past each other to exchange places. Tilly’s baby belly rubbed against Papa’s towel, and due to their height difference, she suspected she brushed a bit more of his groin than a daughter-in-law should. Papa closed the door and waited in the bedroom.

When Tilly emerged, the dripping wet bedraggled man resumed his shower. She lingered outside the closed bathroom door and wondered how to make the limitation of only one bathroom less of a nuisance. One thing pregnancy taught her was hyperawareness of her body. More people poked and prodded her in the last six months than her entire life to that point. She didn’t know Papa well, but surely they could make arrangements a little more flexible. It wouldn’t mortify her if he chanced a glimpse of her flesh. At least, she told herself that.

~~~~~ ~~~~~

On Monday morning, a pair of soldiers in dress uniforms knocked on the door. Papa answered and invited them in. The news was as bad as could be. George’s helicopter went down during training, killing George and seven of his buddies. The men apologized for the late notice. George had never changed his official address or something in the bureaucracy got crossed. The Army had sent a team to notify Tilly back in Florida. It had taken them three days to find her less than an hour from their gates.

Tilly sat on the couch in a numb stupor. Papa thanked the men and received pamphlets about military funeral benefits and God-knew-what else before he sent them away. He looked at his daughter-in-law until she made eye contact. Seeing the anguish in Papa’s eyes broke her will to remain calm, and she let loose an animal scream. Papa sat beside her as she wailed incoherently. He kissed the top of her head and rocked her. When sobbing subsided, Papa stayed beside her.

“He’ll never know his daughter,” she whispered.

“I think he will,” Papa whispered back.

Neither slept or said another word until morning.

“I have to tell Mama,” Papa said.

“Do you want me to come? I’ve never met her.”

“She might like that.” He smiled.

Mama, Papa’s wife, lived in a nursing home down in the valley. It was one of the reasons Papa had built the house and stayed in Colorado.

She had suffered a brain hemorrhage similar to a stroke when she was thirty-four. Doctors said it was an undetected defect that had been present all her life. Papa had been living alone for the decade since. Mama was bedridden and could barely talk. She had no memory of being married or having a son. She recognized Papa, but only because he visited often. The bewildered expression on the woman’s face drove Tilly to step into the hallway for another crying jag.

Her mother had displayed similar bewildered expressions when high. Tilly had suffered through a few years of foster care. She searched for her mother when she turned eighteen, but the only lead she found came from a junkie who said her mother had hitchhiked to Mexico City.

Papa grabbed take-out bean burritos on the drive home. Tilly ignored the seatbelt and slid close to hold Papa’s elbow while he drove. Over dinner, they took turns telling stories about George. Papa recounted the time George won an art contest as a third grader. Tilly described her terrible first date with George. Papa suggested watching the wedding video, but Tilly knew it would be too painful.

Neither of them had slept for more than a day. Tilly rested her head on Papa’s shoulder while he stroked her hair. She woke sometime in the night with her head in his lap. He remained sitting, but his head lolled and he snored softly with a tiny dribble in the corner of his mouth. His large hand rested on her neck as if he had fallen asleep in the middle of petting her hair. Tilly stayed awake for an hour or so listening to her father-in-law breathe before fatigue overwhelmed her. She found herself under a blanket on the bed in the morning.

Faint shower noise through the bathroom door informed Tilly where to find Papa. She knocked and cracked the door again. “I have to pee really bad.”

Papa moved to pull a towel from the rack beyond the shower entrance, but she said, “Just close your eyes. I’ll only be a minute.” He wrapped the towel around himself and obeyed while Tilly took care of business.

She couldn’t help noticing the family resemblance between Papa and his son. She wondered how far the resemblance extended. It wasn’t sexual curiosity. She was too numb for that. It was more about her mind slipping a gear while reaching out for her only remaining family. She knew little Georgette would need her Papa. The baby’s name was settled at that moment, sitting on the toilet with Papa squeezing his eyes tight enough to wrinkle his face.

~~~~~ ~~~~~

The funeral had a closed casket. It left Tilly hollow with no visceral confirmation of George’s death. Her friend, Megan, flew out for the funeral. Megan had taught math at the same school where George had taught art. Megan was the one who introduced Tilly to George. Tilly needed the extra emotional support from her friend, but it came with a price. Megan couldn’t take time off and fly across the country for the funeral as well as Georgette’s birth. It had to be one or the other.

The three people in Colorado who knew George best went out to dinner and an impromptu wake.

“Do you remember the time George got covered in mud digging out the drain pipe at my house?” Megan reminisced. “I put his clothes in the washer, and you stole all the towels while he was in the shower.”

“Yeah,” Tilly laughed. “I knew I wanted to see more after he streaked to the laundry room holding his junk in his hands.”

Papa smiled and said, “He started streaking at an early age. Back when we lived in California, he was maybe four, he jumped out of the bathtub while my back was turned and ran starkers into the front yard. Then there was the time Mama and I came home to find George and his buddies skinny-dipping in the neighbor’s pool. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but I think the boys nearly gave old Mrs. Fraser a heart attack. Mama went over and embarrassed the boys by making them each call their parents for a ride home.”

“He never told me that one,” Tilly mumbled while leaning against the table with her chin in her hands.

“Do you know what he told me after your first date?” Megan asked. “He swore me to secrecy, but I guess it’s OK now.”

Everyone paused to collect their emotions. “What did he say?”

“He said you looked at him like he had two heads, and he thought he’d blown his chance. Then, you said dating could only get better after that, or something similar. When he got back in his car, he called me and said he had a new strategy: set expectations low on the first date, get better each time, and by the tenth date, you’d be ready to marry him.”

“He really talked about marrying me after the first date?”

“He really did.” Megan smiled. “I wasn’t sure he was serious, but turned out he was.”

Papa described a phone call from George after Tilly had accepted George’s proposal. “He said I’d love you.” Papa looked squarely in Tilly’s face and said, “I do.”

Tilly hugged her father-in-law, and Megan put a hand on his where it rested on the table. “I’m glad Tilly has someone for her here,” she said with wet eyes.

~~~~~ ~~~~~

Papa held Tilly’s hand through the labor and delivery. It went fast after they got to the Army hospital. Tilly worried about her modesty at first but gave the concern zero attention once pushing started in earnest. She watched the baby crown in a mirror the doctor positioned for that purpose. Papa cut Georgette’s umbilical cord and kissed the baby’s head before the nurse had a chance to wipe it clean.

Papa was her only family, and the time for modesty had past. Something mystical caused Tilly to forget most details of the delivery, but she remembered Papa whispering between contractions. He said, “This little angel brings tidings of love,” and thanked Tilly for bringing Georgette into the world.

A few hours later, she held her daughter to her breast and asked Papa what he meant.

“It’s a kind of prayer,” he explained. “I said the same thing when George was born, and I thanked his mother, too.”

“But, what does it mean?”

He remained silent for several minutes while she adjusted a nipple to improve Georgette’s suction. When she looked in his eyes, she saw a single tear.

He said, “Each baby comes from a place where it’s cherished and loved with perfection. She enters the world as a gift for all of humanity. The child is an example and reminder to us. In her perfection, Georgette is helpless and vulnerable as anyone in love must be. Our duty is to receive her message and answer it with our love. She will grow callused from the harsh imperfections of our world. She will rebel against injustice and pain. But one day, if I’m lucky, I will be able to thank her as I thanked you. Georgette is our future – both of ours.”

Tilly cried a little, and Papa lifted the sleeping baby off her breast. “It’s my turn,” he said as he clutched the swaddled infant to his heart. He rocked with tiny motions and cooed singsong shushing sounds that soothed Georgette. He whispered, “How’s my little Valentine?” It sunk into Tilly’s foggy mental process that it was February 14th, a good day for a little angel to bring tidings of love.

“Papa, what do you do for a living? How do you have so much time to spend with me?”

Papa took his time answering, and Tilly held her peace with practiced patience. “I’m the radar whisperer,” he said. In response to her blank expression, he continued, “Radars need to be tuned occasionally. The Air Force hires lots of contractors to do it, but they keep coming back to me. I get better results.”

“Does it pay well?”

“I charge ten thousand dollars every time I touch one. I do it a few times a year, so it’s a living.”

~~~~~ ~~~~~

A nursing coach showed Tilly how to pump breast milk and store it “So daddy can feed his little girl, too.” Tilly didn’t bother trying to explain Papa. The three of them sat together in the room while Tilly managed to pump some colostrum. “Don’t worry. Your regular milk will come in. It usually takes about three days,” the counselor assured her.

When Papa brought mother and daughter home, he drove a beat up old Mercedes-Benz that already had a car seat in the back.

“What happened to the truck?” Tilly asked in surprise.

“We needed something safe for Georgette.”

When Tilly stepped into her bedroom, she discovered another aspect of Papa’s preparedness. The room now contained two beds separated by an old-fashioned privacy curtain on wheels. It rolled easily on the wood plank floor.

“I hope you don’t mind?” Papa asked. “The couch was getting old, and this way I can comfort the baby sometimes while you sleep.”

A routine developed where Tilly nursed Georgette around midnight while Papa slept. He got up at six or sometimes four to feed the baby from a bottle. Tilly joked on the phone with Megan that she was getting more sleep than she did before the baby was born. The bathroom door hardly ever closed. Tilly figured Papa had seen everything there was to see, and she didn’t mind sharing. It simplified so many things.

In his never-ending quest for efficiency, Papa took Georgette into the shower with him whenever she smelled too ripe. He held her against his chest and lathered her with baby soap before rinsing her with the hand held shower massager on its lightest setting. Georgette enjoyed it so much that it usually put her to sleep. Nevertheless, Papa announced over dinner one night that he planned to build a nursery and another bathroom during the summer.

~~~~~ ~~~~~

They took Georgette to meet Mama. Tilly left disappointed her mother-in-law didn’t remember her and seemed indifferent to the baby. It hit home to her how disabled Mama was. On the ride home, Tilly asked, “Do you get lonely?”

Papa drove for some miles before he replied, “She’s not the woman I married anymore, but I can’t stop loving her. I’m not built that way.”

“But what do you do for companionship? I haven’t met any of your friends.”

For a change, he answered right away. “You’re my companion, aren’t you?”

It flattered Tilly. “You’ve been a godsend for me,” she attested.

When they got home, Tilly remembered the time Papa went dancing. “Where did you go dancing that time?”

“Hah! That was a bit of a euphemism. I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean?”

“A man has to have some secrets,” he said, and left it at that.

Tilly’s head filled with visions of a booty call or some other tawdry liaison. She suppressed a little sadness realizing Papa hadn’t gone dancing since that first time almost three months earlier. Thinking about Papa getting lucky reminded her to pity herself, too. Sometimes, she forgot George was gone. She’d roll over in bed expecting to wrap her arms around him.

~~~~~ ~~~~~

Over the following months, Tilly relished having Papa close to help with Georgette, but she also looked forward to the new rooms he promised. With only a privacy screen between them, she had to be subdued when she masturbated. She used the magical shower massager on occasion, but she had inadvertently trained Papa to barge in unexpectedly. She didn’t mind except when she was right on the edge and had to stop.

One night, while laying in her own afterglow, she wondered if and when Papa masturbated. It fired her curiosity, and she paid close attention to the sounds of the man. She challenged herself to catch him in the act. It would become a titillating game for her. She’d been living with the man for six months by then. They had seen each other naked and kept few secrets. Tilly realized they were basically a married couple in every respect but sex. The realization accompanied her yearning for male affection.

Construction proceeded slowly, but Papa insisted he’d be done before it snowed. Georgette crawled with lightning speed, requiring constant vigilance. Her first word was “Papa.” Her favorite food was mashed acorn squash a la Papa. She stared out the window every day watching a one-man construction team shape and set logs. Papa read his engineering magazines to her at bed time. It usually put them both to sleep, and Tilly had to lift her growing daughter off the man to put her in the oversize bassinet by her bed.

Tilly found Georgette snuggled against Papa on his bed, and the sleeping pair looked so cute that she joined them and cuddled Papa’s other side. She woke when Papa got up in the morning. He wiped bleary eyes and didn’t seem to notice the conspicuous morning wood hanging out the fly of his pajama shorts. It was the first thing Tilly noticed.

She masturbated on Papa’s bed while he took a long shower. His firmness caused Tilly to fantasize about sitting on a cock and riding it to the hilt. She didn’t imagine Papa as her lover. Her dream remained more abstract than that. His erection merely provided the spark which ignited the lust furnace in her active mind. After she came, she kicked herself for not peeking in the bathroom first. He probably masturbated in there to get rid of the erection. She resolved to peek first and masturbate later if she ever got another opportunity.

~~~~~ ~~~~~

Tilly consoled her screaming daughter as Papa maneuvered a gigantic saw used to cut a doorway from the bedroom to the new nursery. In addition to the connection to the bedroom, the nursery connected to the living room through a small bathroom containing a tiny one-person shower. As time passed, Tilly enjoyed the extra space, but she missed the comforting intimacy of sharing the big bedroom. Papa slept in the nursery, making Tilly wonder where he’d sleep when Georgette moved into there. As it was, Georgette fell asleep in there most nights already.

Even though the addition was otherwise complete, Papa didn’t get around to hanging doors in the passageways to the new rooms until around Thanksgiving. It gave Tilly a chance to wean herself from Papa’s company. She found it difficult to fall asleep without the sounds of his soft snoring. The lack of doors enabled her continued snooping, but she never saw anything to salve her curiosity about his masturbation habits.

Papa carved a realistic wooden baby doll as a Christmas present for Georgette. He even sewed swaddling clothes out of a ripped pair of Georgette’s onesie pajamas. He gave Tilly an autographed copy of Stephen King’s “Christine,” saying he’d had it for years, but Tilly never saw it on the shelf. She’d been working her way through King’s books since she moved there. Tilly gave her father-in-law a refurbished porcelain claw foot tub. It was the first purchase she made with the money she got from George’s death benefit. The tub fit the space available in the big bathroom, and Papa confessed he always planned to install one.

Tilly smiled from ear to ear when Papa spent the day after Christmas installing the tub. He said he couldn’t wait to try it. The poor guy didn’t get to enjoy his first soak very long. When Georgette saw the water, she begged, “Peas! Peas!” Papa relented, calling her his precocious little blessing. Tilly lowered the squirming baby, but when Georgette settled in the warm water, she peed. Papa climbed back out and drained the tub.

Tilly wanted to stay and watch the naked man bent over the bathtub, but Georgette needed a diaper and was overtired. Tilly rocked the baby to sleep in the big bedroom. After Georgette was settled in the bassinet, Tilly crept back into the bathroom. She sat on the edge of the tub looking down at her father-in-law’s lap. He gave her a brief smile. She stirred the water with her fingers and said, “Peas, peas.”

Papa smiled again and said she was welcome to join him. Tilly stripped and plunged into the tub facing him. Their legs intertwined. After a while soaking in silence, Tilly turned herself in the tub and scooted to recline with her back against Papa’s chest. He played with her hair, and his penis flopped against her butt crack when eddy currents disturbed it.

~~~~~ ~~~~~

On the anniversary of George’s death, Tilly sobbed in her bed, clutching George’s urn to her breasts. Papa lay beside her and held her all night even though neither of them slept.

For Georgette’s first birthday, Papa made a chocolate cake with powdered sugar frosting made pink with food coloring for Valentine’s Day. He baked the single layer cake in his all-purpose skillet. It came out looking like a giant’s cupcake.

He showed Georgette how to sift the sugar, and the pair produced a spectacular mess. As Tilly watched the spectacle, it occurred to her that she not only loved Papa, she was in love with him. It felt right to her even though she suffered nagging doubts. Would George have wanted her to fall in love again? Would he mind that she had fallen in love with his father?

Papa caused her body to radiate sexy energy. The combination of his physical build, soft-spoken manner, and wry smiles appealed to the part of herself she thought had died with George. He could also cook French wine sauces from scratch. Maybe the route to a woman’s heart is through her stomach. He listened while she talked even when she had nothing important to say. He understood her need to think aloud and dust the corners of her psyche.

She started fantasizing about sexual intercourse with the man who saved her. She purchased a realistic dildo because it reminded her of the one glimpse she ever had of Papa’s erection. She made love to herself, pretending he covered her body with his long frame. She imagined he nibbled her neck. They often cuddled together with Georgette, and the warmth of his breath on her neck warmed her loins. Even with two bathrooms in the house, Tilly invited Papa to soak in the tub at least once a week. It became a routine for her to lay against him while he washed her hair. She knew he became erect a few times, but neither of them commented.

~~~~~ ~~~~~

When the weather warmed again, Papa surprised Tilly by announcing his plan to go dancing later that evening. With her stomach tied in knots, Tilly said, “Stay here and dance with me.” They sat in silence studying each other’s faces for clues to the other’s thoughts. They might have stared for hours, but Georgette demanded to be released from highchair captivity. Papa didn’t go out that night, but he didn’t come to Tilly, either. She lay nude under a blanket with churning emotions of longing, fear, and guilt compounded by uncertainty. Had she offended him? Did he still love her as his daughter-in-law? Could it be more?

Papa’s tendency to delay speech until he had exhaustively considered his words frustrated Tilly, but she knew better than to nag for his reply. She watched him with unbridled love whenever she thought he wouldn’t see. Other times, she played the calm, cool, collected daughter-in-law she assumed he expected. Summer stretched into fall, and apart from twice-weekly baths, Papa seemed distant. Even in the bath, part of his mind wandered somewhere else.

~~~~~ ~~~~~

Mama started to remember Tilly on their visits. She didn’t remember Georgette. Papa said it might be because Georgette grew and changed faster than Mama could form a memory. Papa kissed Mama’s cheek on one of the visits, and she recoiled, slapping at him and her own face. Tilly could see Papa’s heart shatter. Georgette toddled over to Papa and asked to be picked up. When Papa raised her to his face, she kissed him on the cheek. Papa turned away from Tilly to wipe a tear.

On the car ride home, Georgette said, “I’m precocious.”

Papa and Tilly laughed. Tilly said, “Yes, you are.”

Papa followed the words without a pause and added, “And a blessing.”

“You’re Papa’s precocious little blessing,” Tilly repeated with wistful contentment.

~~~~~ ~~~~~

Late on Christmas Eve after Santa’s visit, Tilly asked her father-in-law to join her in a bath. They faced each other, and she whispered, “Let me wash your hair this time.”

She indicated for him to turn and lean back against her for a change. With his heavy head nestled between her breasts, she scooped water in her hands to wet his hair. She brushed a dribble away as it rolled across his chest. Papa said, “Mmmm, that’s nice.”

Tilly abandoned his hair and caressed his chest instead. His noises of pleasure and the stubble of his cheek against her breast enticed Tilly to squirm. She watched his penis bob and float without breaking the surface of the water. She wondered if she could call his state of arousal a “semi.” When she massaged his scalp in imitation of his technique, the head of his penis broke the surface. There was no question it grew.

She kissed the top of Papa’s head and said, “I love you.”

After a moment, he said, “My name is Edwin.”

“I love you, Edwin.”

“I love you too, Matilda.”

She splashed water in his face as punishment for using the proper name she never liked.

The water got cold before either moved to get out. Tilly wanted it to last forever. Edwin’s throbbing erection begged for her attention, but she feared crossing some invisible line. She needed the new love of her life to proclaim his affection and desire to proceed. As they toweled dry, Edwin said, “You’re twenty-three.”

She replied, “You’re forty-five.”

Edwin’s gift for Georgette was a kit for a large wooden rocking horse. He spread newspaper on the living room floor and showed Georgette where to squirt the glue as they spent all morning assembling it. Georgette ignored her other presents. Tilly surprised Edwin with a filet mignon which he fried medium-rare in the all-purpose skillet. Tilly enjoyed watching him savor every bite as she and Georgette ate broccoli rice casserole and stuffed mushrooms. After dinner, Edwin wrapped a long strand of pearls twice around Tilly’s neck.

“I have nowhere to wear these,” she complained. He told her to buy a nice dress because they were invited to a New Year’s Ball in the Officer’s Club at Peterson Air Force Base.

Colorado Springs was a military town nestled on the slopes of Rocky Mountains. It had a large Army fort, three Air Force bases, and the Air Force Academy. Tilly shopped in the on-base Exchanges for low prices, but she’d never been to an Officer’s Club.

~~~~~ ~~~~~

At the Ball, Edwin introduced Tilly to his Air Force colleagues and their spouses. A group of women her age included her in their conversation around the punch bowl. She asked the other young women about their jobs. Tilly spared part of her attention to track Edwin’s progress socializing with his colleagues.

“Look out now,” one of the other women announced.

Across the room, an older woman walked up to Edwin and engaged in an animated conversation. From the young women’s gossip, Tilly learned the older woman was a Lieutenant Colonel and commander of one of the radar installations that contracted with Edwin for repairs. The Air Force officer stood close enough to Edwin to make Tilly wonder what kind of relationship they shared.

She caught Edwin’s eye, and he gestured for her to approach. He made polite introductions, calling her “Tilly” without specifying her relationship to him. The officer raved about Edwin’s genius and extracted a promise from him to bid on an upcoming contract. Edwin seemed uncomfortable receiving the praise and used the chance to dance with Tilly as an excuse to break away.

Tilly rested her head against Edwin’s chest and shoulder as they swayed without much rhythm. He kept her on the dance floor until the countdown to midnight. Her feet ached, and she kicked off her heels. Edwin looked down into her eyes and kissed her to start the new year. His warm dry lips pressed into her own in a way that wasn’t quite passionate but lasted long enough to raise her pulse. When he withdrew, she placed her hands on his shoulders and stood on her toes to give him one more peck.

They drove home right after midnight to relieve the teenager babysitting Georgette. They heard the toddler bawling as soon as they stepped inside. The sitter’s story came out in frantic muddled bursts. All Tilly could determine was that Georgette woke sometime during the night crying for Papa and became increasingly hysterical when Papa didn’t come to her rescue. By the time Tilly returned from driving the sitter home, she found Georgette cradled in Edwin’s arms while he stood in the large shower.

“She was sweaty from her tirade,” Edwin whispered. “She’s not quite asleep.”

Tilly shook her head in disbelief. Taking a hysterical toddler into the shower was either brilliant or idiotic. She wasn’t sure, but it had worked.

“Here, dry her and put her in the bassinet,” Edwin said, and handed the girl to her.

The tired mother sighed. She had hoped for another kiss, but the mood passed. Tilly contented herself with a lingering glance at Edwin’s bare ass.

~~~~~ ~~~~~

On the anniversary of George’s death, Tilly and Edwin got drunk on hard cider and watched the wedding video. Tilly sobbed, and Edwin comforted her. He hugged her close during the first dance as husband and wife. She hugged him back during the segment where she danced with the groom’s father.

On Georgette’s birthday, the little girl spent the afternoon with her Papa making a feast out of fudge and candy molds. She vomited twice before bedtime, and Edwin acknowledged his mistake with genuine remorse. Tilly ordered him to clean up while she comforted the traumatized child. When the adults relaxed in the bathtub later that night, Edwin tried to claim the incident was a great life lesson. “She’ll know not to overdo sweets now.”

“How is it you never learned the lesson?”

He returned to his usual taciturn mood. When they climbed out to dry, Edwin caressed her with a soft towel. He knelt in front of her and lingered rubbing the towel on her thighs. She spotted his penis swelling, and her heart accelerated. She closed her eyes to concentrate on the enticing touch of her gentle burly bear.

“I’m married,” he said in a flat voice.

“Mama doesn’t know she’s married. She barely remembers you.”

“I can’t divorce her. I said I’d love her forsaking all others through good times and bad times.”

Tilly restrained tears as Edwin pitched back from his kneeling position to sit leaning against the tub. After a long silence while his penis subsided, he said, “This is a bad time.”

“She wouldn’t mind,” Tilly remarked with hope and sincere belief. “She’d want you to be happy.”

“I want you,” he confessed with a pained expression on his face. “I had to build the new room to save myself from bursting into flame listening to you masturbate every night.”

“It wasn’t every night, and I didn’t think you heard.”

“I got so sleep deprived; I started hallucinating.”

“I’m sorry. You should have said something.”

Edwin didn’t raise the subject again for several weeks. He returned from an early spring walk inspecting wild flowers with Georgette. “Tilly,” he said. “Can you forgive my lust for you?”

Georgette asked, “What’s lust?”

Tilly lifted the toddler for a hug. “It means Papa loves me.” She carried Georgette out of the room, but she looked over her shoulder and said, “Yes.”

That night, Edwin left Georgette sleeping on his bed and approached Tilly. She pulled back the blanket and patted a place for Edwin to join her. He lay beside her and wrapped his arms completely around her torso squeezing her breasts in his arms. He nibbled her neck as if he somehow knew her secret desire, but he refrained from undressing her. They spooned all night and showered together in the morning. The next evening, Tilly said, “Sleep with me again.”

~~~~~ ~~~~~

Sharing a bed brought back awareness of emotional security Tilly had missed for years. She imagined the sensation must be even stronger for Edwin after twelve years without his wife. The couple created a new routine of nightly chaste mutual aide. His soft snoring lulled her to sleep in minutes. His morning erections inspired her to masturbate while he showered. One morning during the hottest part of the summer, Tilly whispered in Edwin’s ear. “Don’t do it in the shower. Stay here with me.”

Edwin touched his erection as if it could burn his fingers. Tilly pushed her panties down her thighs. She timed the motion of her fingers to match the pace of Edwin’s strokes. Her pussy dripped, and her hand spread the moisture along her slit to enable frictionless stimulation. Doing it beside Edwin filled an emotional void making solo masturbation seem empty in comparison. He came before her and wrapped his arms around her stomach rolling her part way onto her side. He pulled her close enough to rest his shrinking manhood on her thigh. She increased her own pace. It felt so lovely to be held while she masturbated that she took her time savoring the closeness.

Edwin watched her delicate motions, and his cock came back to life. By the time Tilly neared her climax, his stiff penis lay against her inner thigh. The shaking convulsions of Tilly’s orgasm nearly stimulated his ejaculation. Instead, while Tilly lay sweat soaked and panting in his embrace, he slowly fucked her thighs. She pressed her legs together squeezing him, and the resulting spurt of semen formed a pool half way across the bed.

“Good distance you got there,” Tilly giggled.

“Thank you.”

~~~~~ ~~~~~

Tilly masturbated at least once a day and often twice. Edwin joined her a few times a week when she teased him by starting in his presence. Other times, she closed her eyes and took herself with the dildo. She knew he watched some of those sessions as well, and she longed for him to yank the thing out of her hands and replace it with his cock.

When the aspens turned yellow in the fall, the couple enjoyed long walks on mountain trails dragging a precocious little blessing along beside them. Georgette ran ahead to explore a babbling brook or chase a rabbit. Tilly held Edwin’s hand and informed him, “I want to feel you inside me.”

He didn’t reply to her specific assertion until they lay together that night. “Are you using birth control?” he asked.

“No.”

“We shouldn’t.”

“Georgette needs a little brother or sister.”

Tilly drifted to sleep waiting for Edwin’s reply. His eyes remained open, and at dawn, he took a solitary walk on his mountainside. When he returned, he kissed the back of Tilly’s neck while she flipped a pancake for Georgette. All he said was, “Yes.”

After lunch, Georgette took a nap, and Tilly persuaded Edwin to abandon his crossword for some afternoon delight. She directed his hands to unbutton her sweater. He followed her commands with no resistance. “Unzip my pants…Put your hands on my ass…Take off my Bra…Take off your pants…Suck my nipple…Harder…Pull out your cock…Hold me close.”

The lovers panted with mutual desire. Tilly rolled her panties down her thighs until they dropped to the floor. She held Edwin’s erection in one hand while forcing his briefs down his legs with the other. She pulled him to the bed using his cock as a leash. When she lay on her back with her legs extended over the side, she said, “Put it in me.”

Edwin fit her like the lovers were created from one skin. The sensation of giving herself fully and knowing her lover’s surrender to lust triggered an orgasm almost the moment her fingers touched her clitoris. She teased herself to the brink of a second orgasm while Edwin slowly thrust. He bent at his waist to lean over Tilly and kiss her forehead. His hips moved outside his control. Pure animal lust drove him to thrust his pelvis against her. Tilly withdrew her fingers and let her lover’s pubic bone provide the stimulation. Edwin gasped with shallow breaths and surged within her.

Tilly remembered the magnificent sensation of receiving a lover’s warm gift. She imagined it many times over the prior year, but it still shocked her to realize how much she missed hot, hard cock until that moment. Edwin collapsed panting and sweating on the floor between her parted legs. He climbed onto his knees and buried his nose in Tilly’s folds. Her body reacted to the forgotten pleasure of a man’s tongue by humping against his face. She wrapped her legs around his back. He inhaled to fill his lungs with her musk. Tilly teetered on the edge of another orgasm. Butterfly flicks on the exposed live wire to her brain forced Tilly to squeal and arch her back when the climax came.

~~~~~ ~~~~~

Edwin demonstrated other-worldly love to Tilly most nights after that. He relished parting her legs with his face. They’d kiss in the morning, and she’d taste herself still on his lips. As Georgette’s third birthday approached, the couple remembered George by watching the wedding video again. They made love that night.

On Valentine’s Day, Papa and Georgette crafted another cake enjoying the time together and making a mess in furtherance of tradition. Tilly sat alone in the bathroom and confirmed her suspicion with an off-the-shelf test. She looked at herself in the mirror. From naming Georgette to confessing her love for Edwin, the bathroom seemed to be the place where life altering events occurred.

She walked up behind her lover in the kitchen, pressed against his back, and showed him the bright pink plus sign.

“I love you,” she said.

“I really enjoy Valentine’s Day,” he replied.