Date: Sun, 29 Dec 2013 11:27:00 -0000
From: Naked Nick <nakednick2@btinternet.com>
Subject: Keeping it in Family - Chapter 48

WARNING:  The following true story – only the names of the participants and
some of the places have been changed – contains descriptions of gay,
bisexual and incestuous activity between adult relatives and others,
activities which may be illegal in some jurisdictions or cause offence
against some religious beliefs.  Please do not read any further if you are
likely to be offended by its content or if it might be illegal in your
country!  By the way, the story is written with the full knowledge and
approval of all the living persons having significant mention therein.

* * * *

I woke with a start, it was light, it was after eight o'clock, there was a
small body between us in our bed, there was a hand in my groin, "That woke
you up!" Sarah said, continuing to massage my hardening dick. She soon
sensed I was close to coming and grabbed the baby's wash cloth just as I
dumped another load of spunk.  She gave me a slobbering kiss, pushing her
tongue deep into my mouth, "That's all for now, time to feed the young `un."
We cuddled together for a few moments before Sarah said "I tried not to wake
you when he wanted feeding in the night."

"I didn't hear a thing," I said, perfectly truthfully.

"Good.  Go do and do your bathroom things while I feed him, then I can go
for a shower while you look after him."  I went, naked, to the bathroom to
do as I was told.  When I returned, Sarah was padding around the bedroom,
her two pert breasts with their erect pink nipples clearly visible through
her sheer nightie.  I pulled her towards me, her breasts pressing into my
naked chest causing that familiar tingling in my naked groin and gave her a
long kiss.

"Thank you, darling for our beautiful son," I said as we parted.  "Now all
we need is a daughter!"   I felt a dribble down my chest and noticed the two
wet spots on her nightie.

"Now look what you have done," she said, "and you'll have to get some
pyjamas before we thank about daughters!"  She glanced at my dick which was
certainly not completely dormant, in spite of my recent `treat'. "It's time
you got dressed; someone might come to the door!  In any case, I could
murder a cup of tea, then you can look after `his nibs' while I shower."

The baby was sleeping by the time I returned with the tea; Sarah took hers
to the bathroom, I admired our sleeping son while I drank mine, musing over
how a tiny squirt of my spunk had merged in Sarah's womb with an invisible
egg, triggering the birth nine months later, of the next generation.  The
phone rang, Alison for Sarah; I looked into the bathroom, Sarah was still
under the shower, so I spoke to Alison for a while, then to Rob.  Just like
us, they were over the moon with their still-nameless daughter.  The good
news from Rob was that Mother was doing well and might even get out of
hospital in another day or two – she hated hospitals!  The less good news
was that she was on her last lap; she perhaps only had another three months,
but had set herself a personal target `to take her four grandchildren for a
walk on the farm'.  With the prognosis she had been given, it certainly
seemed unlikely that there would be any more in her lifetime.

Sarah came out of the bathroom with only a towel round her bottom half, her
distended boobs triggering evil thoughts in my mind and tingling in my
groin.  She took the telephone, spoke briefly to Rob and then for ages to
Alison – all baby talk, of course!  Why do parents always behave as if they
were the first ones ever to accomplish the birth of a new life?  The call
must have lasted an hour or more.  By the time Sarah hung up, I had
breakfast ready and as she came downstairs, two neighbours arrived with
flowers and I was despatched to bring our baby down.

He woke after half an hour or more of `woman-talk', with lots of cooing and
cuddling as he was passed from one to another.  It turned out that one of
our neighbours was a part-time reporter (hence the detailed reporting of the
police operations against the `anti-social behaviour' in the local woods, I
suspected!) for our local paper; she had to have a photo of the Leap Day
baby with Mum and Dad, imploring us to tell her immediately he had a name.
No pressure, of course, but press time was Wednesday evening!

As soon as I had the chance, I called the office with our news and was
promptly ticked-off by Jane for not telling them earlier!  They had already
heard from Paul that we had had a Leap Day son and she was at the ready with
flowers and chocolates for the new mother.  Half an hour later Jane came
round, bearing goodies for mother and son; I was not forgotten, but how were
they to know that I absolutely hated cigars, even mild ones – but I knew how
to be diplomatic!

A call from the local TV station suggested we should watch their lunch time
news.  Whether baby would ever recognise that he had been on television at
36 hours old, could only be guessed!  Sarah called her mother, then Hannah;
she managed to get a message to mother in hospital, whilst Dad, Hannah,
David and their boys all watched at the farm.  Whether baby would ever
recognise that he had been on television at 36 hours old, could only be
guessed!   We were surprised a little later to get a phone call from mother,
absolutely overjoyed that the overworked NHS staff had even managed to get
her to a TV set to see her grandson.  She wanted to see both new babies in
the flesh just as soon as she could and repeated that she was determined to
take all her grandchildren for a walk on the family farm, though we knew she
was unlikely ever to do so.

Shortly later, another call!  The vicar, Peter, from mother's local church
called.  He had seen the news and was offering his congratulations on both
new babies.  He was planning to visit Mother that afternoon and looking
forward to the Easter Christenings of her grandchildren.  Judging from all
the other calls we received, half the office had been watching the TV news
too.  Sarah's mother called on my mobile, complaining that the landline was
constantly engaged; if everything was under control (it was!) she was going
to leave us in peace (peace?) and they would `pop-over for an hour
tomorrow'.  I guessed that she was up to her elbows in the kitchen!

Somehow during all the turmoil, Sarah had provided the baby's nourishment
while I had made coffee for us and the numerous visitors.  As the youngest
couple in our road, there was no lacking for surrogate grandmothers, most of
whom were still waiting for their own offspring to do the business!  When
things quietened down a bit, I got us a `soup and rolls' lunch, after which
we quickly settled on the names Cenydd Dafydd Nicholas, to be known as
`Ken'.  I called Rob to try it out on him and won instant approval,
reflecting our Welsh heritage with an English `get-out'!  Changing the
subject, Rob emotionally thanked me again and again for my part in producing
`their' daughter, adding Alison was treating the baby as his, not mine.
"Great," I said, "and I suppose you are getting hand-jobs at the drop of a
hat?"

"You can't have guessed that, Sarah must be looking after you as well.
Something I have been wanting to ask you, has she ever referred to our
daughter as yours, in any way?"

"No, absolutely not she has always been perfectly content, knowing that I
helped my brother in his time of need, and that only four people in this
world know and will ever know.  She will be quite happy for me to do it
again if that is what you and Alison want – but I can't promise a single
shot next time!"

"We would certainly like a son at some point, but I suppose you won't
promise the gender either," he replied in a much lightened voice.  "I wonder
how the French kings managed that."

I remembered telling Rob part of the story Thierry had told me, but
hesitated a moment before completing it now.  "The story is that even the
Kings' daughters might either given away or even killed at birth.  It must
have been pretty hard on the Queen but the King's brother got lucky!  But so
long as all four of us agree, I am willing to help and no-one else shall
know."

"Great, well, all that is good to know.  I don't think we'll be needing your
services just yet, though!"  We went on to talk at length about Mother, how
she seems at accept the inevitable but is determined to fight on regardless.
We made a tentative arrangement that Rob, Alison and baby should come to us
on the Thursday week, we would all go to the farm on Saturday and back to
Solihull on Monday.  Rob, Alison and baby would go back to Newcastle on the
Wednesday.  It could be a dummy run for the Christening weekend.

As soon as I was off the phone, Sarah asked "Did Rob ask if I was wanking
you off whenever I got the chance?  And did you tell him?"

"Yes and yes."

"And if I had ever looked on their baby as being yours? And what did you
tell him?"

"Yes and no, and that I would do the same again if all four of us agreed.
Sounds like you two had real `drains-up' conversation this morning!"

"No, just woman chat, one of the mothers at the ante-natal clinic blurted
out about her compulsion to do `hand-jobs', she called them, on her husband
after their first baby.  A few of the others looked bewildered, most of them
confessed!  There was an interesting few minutes discussing what exactly a
hand-job entailed.  I didn't realise modern woman was so naοve!"

"I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall!" I joked, before
discussing the travelling plans.

"Sounds good to me, Alison mentioned it this morning.  Rob might need to add
some time to his paternity leave but he has plenty of accumulated leave, how
about you?  I assume two cars will be a must with two lots of baby
paraphernalia."

"I might need to take a couple of days extra, but depending how you feel I
might do some half-days at work between now and then.  I said I would call
Hannah to sort out the accommodation.  I had better get us fed first, it is
nearly six o'clock, how time flies!"

After a quick `ready meal', I can't remember what, I called Hannah who was
delighted that we felt able to bring the babies to see mother – or at least
for mother to see them – and agreed to sort out some accommodation
arrangements.  Having two couples with two new babies descending on the
family didn't seem to worry her at all!  We went on to discuss mother's
prognosis and Hannah seemed confident that the three month window was
pessimistic – whether this was wishful thinking I had no idea.  She was
expected to be discharged from hospital into Hannah's care within the next
couple of days.  Characteristically, Father seemed to be accepting the
situation and that there was little he could do to influence the outcome;
older people seem to develop that way of thinking – not that he or Mother
was yet `old' by today's standards.

Hannah was pleased to hear that we had named our son, approving the chosen
names; I had known that my maternal grandfather's name was Dafydd but not
that mother had had an older brother called Cenydd who had been killed in
World War 2.  Nicholas was obvious, of course!  We played a little guessing
game as to the names of Alison and Rob's daughter – the only obvious one was
Dilys, Mother's second name, Angerhad, was reckoned as an outside choice!

It seemed only like yesterday that Brian was born, yet he was already able
to move around, mostly by shuffling on his backside, but Alan was good at
keeping an eye on him, though in one unfortunate incident he had shuffled
into a newly dug and well manured area of their garden – enough said!

Sarah was looking pretty tired by about seven o'clock after her hectic day,
not to mention her loss of sleep in the last couple of days and the strain
of the last nine months, so we decided on a hot drink and early night.  She
got Ken sorted out while I showered, then left him to me whilst she
completed her ablutions.  He was sound asleep so I decided I should check my
e-mail.  Thierry had sent one to my work address, therefore to be seen by my
PA, mostly using the usual English congratulatory phrases, but ending with
"Un branler par jour maintient la sage-femme au loin" – there was bound to
be some clever-dick in the office who would translate that!  I would bet on
Derek having tipped him off about it because Sarah had told me that his wife
Jane was the mother who introduced the subject of hand-jobs at the ante
natal class!

Just as we were ready for bed, Clare rang and spoke woman-talk to Sarah for
a while before Roger spoke to me, "This is not your doctor speaking, but a
hand job at bedtime is good for sleeplessness, then even the baby won't wake
you!"

When I hung up, Sarah said "I suppose you are expecting more than a cuddle
now?  You'd better get some tissues."  Suitably prepared, I rolled into bed
alongside Sarah and after some preparatory kisses and cuddles, my dick was
already tingling with expectation as I felt her hand inching towards my bits
and pieces, "You've shaved!" she exclaimed.

"That's right! That is why I kept my CKs on to go to the bathroom, so you
wouldn't see.  Rob and I had a pact to shave our pubes when the babies were
born, no particular reason, just to see what it felt like.  That must be
about the only thing Alison hasn't told you yet."

"You'll be too prickly for a shag until that regrows, so I can rule out any
mischief there!"

"That's exactly what Rob told me Alison said. I expect you'll be comparing
notes in the morning."

Her hand had firmly grasped my hardening dick by now, she pulled the
foreskin back, "I must have a look," she said as she pulled the bedcovers
back exposing my naked body, "Wow! It's as bald as my dad's head, even your
balls; you must have used my Immac on them.  The whole kit looks bigger
too!"  She kissed my knob gently and started slowly wanking my growing
prick.  She paused as Cen grizzled briefly and then carried on until I
warned her that my climax was close.  She took my knob into her mouth just
as I came.  I could see she was rolling my spunk around her mouth as she put
her lips to mine; I savoured the salty, sticky liquid before Sarah took most
of it back and swallowed hard.

I was awake first next morning with Sarah stirring just as I emerged from
the bathroom, "Wow, your kit really does look bigger without the hair!  Get
some clothes on before I get any ideas about it!"  I leaned over the bed and
gave her a kiss.  Her hand stretched out and tweaked my dangling tool, then
cupped my naked balls.  "That's all for now, get dressed, I would love a cup
of tea!"

When I returned with the tea, Sarah was in the bathroom, the door ajar in
case Ken should stir.  She saw me in the mirror as I took the tea in, put it
down and grasped her naked buttocks, then pressed myself against them as I
moved my hands to her breasts giving them the gentlest of squeezes.  "No,"
she said as I made a move to lick off the dribble of milk, "that's for Ken!"
We took the tea to the bedroom, she sat, naked on the bed and lifted our
half-awake baby on to her lap, then to her breast.  After a few minutes,
Sarah eased him away, took off most of his night clothes and put his tiny,
half-naked body to her other breast where he continued his feeding.

Then it was nappy time!  After cleaning him up, Sarah clutched his naked
body to hers, kissing him gently on the head before handing him to me.  It
was a wondrous experience; at least it was until I felt a dribble of warm
liquid running down my chest!  "Darling, the first time, but surely not the
last, he has wet you!" Sarah said, laughing.  As I handed him back to her, I
couldn't help noticing his tiny, tiny wedding tackle; surely it would give
him and a partner enormous pleasure in years to come.

I changed my shirt and got the breakfast while Sarah dressed and got Ken
sorted out before I was called to bring him down the stairs in his carry
cot.  Our second day as a family was a little less hectic, still lots of
phone calls, and several neighbours asking if we needed anything from the
shops.  Paul called, apologising for breaking our news in the office.  "No
problem," I said, "your wife warned me you would!"  He filled me in on one
or two other issues at the office, assured me there was nothing they
couldn't deal with, then said "There's a book going in the office that the
baby will have a Welsh name."

"Wrong," I said, adding after a slight pause, "he's got two!  Cenydd Dafydd
Nicholas."

"That's only one."

"No, Cenydd is spelt the Welsh way, with a C, an E, only one N, a Y and a
double D at the end."

"Shucks, nobody voted for one and a half.  I guess the book is closed now!"

Doreen and Frank arrived about eleven, complete with a pre-prepared cold
lunch for us all and goodness knows how many home-made cakes and pies, and
other goodies!

"Mum, I am not an invalid, you really shouldn't have done all this!" was
Sarah's reaction. "We really could have coped, though I'll admit that Nick's
cooking is not up to your standards."

Ken had to be held, coo-ed over and his names approved before she even got
her hat and coat off!  Frank was just as delighted with his grandson, but
less demonstrative, "I am glad you didn't call him after me," he said, "I've
never liked Frank as a name; at least he's got two others to choose from,
I've only got the one."

After lunch, I went out briefly to register the birth and on the way back,
gave our local news-hound a copy of the Birth Certificate.  "Great," she
said, "this is bound to get in the paper, the editor is a Welshman."  Frank
had said they wanted a copy as well, so I had actually got six, knowing that
they would be required for all sorts of things.

Frank and Doreen left about 4:30pm `to beat the rush hour traffic' and
insisting that if we needed anything at all, they were on the end of the
phone.  As usual, Doreen had over catered for our lunch with more than
sufficient left for our evening meal.  As we sat and chatted over it, with
the TV news in the background, we were suddenly alerted to the words `Leap
Day baby' and looked up to see a picture of Sarah holding our new-born and
his full name, surname included, being announced.  He was getting more TV
exposure in three days that I had had in nearly thirty years!

Sarah was coping well with our new situation but tending to fall off the
tiredness cliff around eight o'clock, but not so tired that I didn't get my
treat after Ken had been settled down!  We were all soon asleep; Sarah,
always a light sleeper, was woken several times in the night, though I slept
through to find her feeding Ken about 7:00am.  "Nothing for you this
morning, but I will have a cup of tea, please."

Wearing only my dressing gown, I did as I was bidden, then went to the
bathroom before taking my turn with the baby, having been instructed the
previous evening about his post-feeding needs!  I was interrupted by the
doorbell, so quickly wrapping him only in a blanket, I took him down to meet
the postman!  "This must be the little fella all the cards are about," he
said, "and two to sign for."  Now that was a bit difficult with a wriggly
babe in arms but I made some sort of mark on the form, enough to satisfy the
postman, if not the bank manager!  Guess what!  Half way up the stairs, I
felt a warm, wet trickle down my front, right down my belly and by the time
I could catch it in my dressing gown, it was dripping off my Willy!

"Twice in two days, you must be heading for a record!" Sarah said, "He
hasn't caught me once yet, hand him over."  How could a little bladder have
made my dressing gown so wet, I asked myself as I took it off, replacing it
with my CKs and sitting on the bed to look through the post, lots of it
considering we had so few relatives, not least due to the genetic problem.
There were quite generous cheques from Sarah's two uncles and cards from
relatives, some of whom I had not seen for years, including my childless
Auntie Ethel and Uncle John; I made a mental note to make sure they were
invited to the Easter Christenings and birthday party.

Life seemed to settle down a bit after that.  We got into the family routine
fairly quickly, Doreen popped round quite often.  David dropped in with Alan
one day, they had been to see a new grass cutting machine David was thinking
of buying for the farm.  Alan felt that Ken was like Brian but smaller and
he was looking forward to seeing his `girl-cousin' next week.  Neighbours
were constantly asking if we needed any shopping or whatever – I was
obviously judged incapable – though Sarah had recovered remarkably quickly
from her nine-month ordeal and really needed very little help!

We got the baby routines, night and morning, worked out and Ken was mostly
willing to co-operate!  Only once did I miss my treat due to his
intervention, but Sarah opted out now and then, though I didn't complain too
much, especially when my groin got very itchy as the hair began to grow
back!  The good news as that mother came out of hospital on the Friday and
the planned trip to Herefordshire the following week was confirmed, except
that Rob, Alison and the newly named Miriam Dilys would only stopover one
night at the farm and one night with us in each direction.  The question did
cross my mind about how Rob would cope with the registration form; would he
confidently write his name in the box marked `Father' or hesitate at the box
marked `Informant', where I had confidently written `Father'?