New Parent Sex

You know what's sexy about having a new baby? Not a heck of a lot. You're tired all the time, there's pumping and bottles and diapers and crying... Not exactly good for the groove. And then of course there is the comparatively recent adventure the girl-parts have been through. Which isn't to say that sex never happens. Sometimes you have to steal a few minutes after the baby goes down for the night just so you don't forget what all the bits are for.

They'd have loved to say they were different. That they were Super Parents, that they had it all under control and could still have romantic evenings and well-organized outings. But they were just new parents. They'd gotten The First Time Back out of the way a few weeks earlier, but that was just about it in the way of naughty recreation. They were focusing on taking care of their son and taking care of each other. You know, the way it should be.

Speaking of taking care of one another, there was one particularly beautiful afternoon in December. You know the kind... a fresh blanket of snow on the ground that absorbs sound like cotton and reflects the cool light like diamonds. One of those days that makes you want to drink cocoa in front of a fire or bake cookies while you dance to Christmas music.

She was still on maternity leave, and he was off work because of one of those imaginary holidays that boarding schools like to make up. But for all that, they'd had a bad couple of nights, and the happy mommy in particular seemed a little frayed around the edges. He'd checked the fridge and saw that she'd pumped enough to get them through the day. So when he heard their bundle of joy starting to cry again, he glanced at the clock and made an executive decision.

Striding into the living room and lifting the little guy out of her arms, he announced "You, m'lady, have the whole afternoon off. I will take care of kiddo's every need. You go and take a nap, read for a while, go to knitting if you'd like. I've got this.

She started to argue, but the offer was just too good. She missed the ladies at knitting, but given how much work it was just to stand up, that nap was probably a much better idea. On her way up the stairs she heard leashes jingling in that way that told her he was taking the dogs for a walk with the little one in the front-pack. And she knew it was cheesy, but she thought her husband looked SO adorable with that thing on.

She reached their bedroom just as the front door closed. It took her a moment to realize what that strange feeling was. There was no crying, and no baby in her arms. Was this what peace and quiet felt like? She thought she remembered something about that...

Before slipping into bed, she double checked that the baby monitor was on (it's amazing how fast some things become second nature) then relaxed completely for the first time in what seemed like weeks. That lazy half-awake state just before a nap was usually when she had her sexiest thoughts. And she was surprised to find, as exhausted as she was, this was no exception. She fell asleep thinking about the way her husband looked when he smiled, the way he smelled when he came home from a long run, the feeling of his fingers running through her hair, the taste of his lips on hers...

The fact that she woke up indicated that she'd probably slept. The tingling sensation and residual, um, warmth indicated that she'd been having one HELL of a dream. She didn't usually remember much of her dreams, but little flashes, lingering images were usually enough to... mmm... Her fingers trailed down her belly, then lower still...

Then, through the delicious nap-fog, her parenting instincts kicked in. Something had awoken her. What was it? Baby monitor? Sure enough she could hear sounds from the baby's room. But it wasn't crying or choking (or the much scarier silence). It was... it was her husband's voice.

He was reading. Not one of his computer science textbooks as he did when he was desperate. She secretly thought those were better at putting HIM to sleep than the baby, but she wasn't going to say so. No, this was one of his favorites (her husband's that is. Not their little Poop Machine's :) The soothing rhythms of Dr. Suess came to her through the little plastic speaker. She knew he was barely looking at the page, and by now she almost had it memorized herself. "Fox. Sox. Knox. Box. Fox in sox. Knox in box. Fox in sox on Knox in box..." She loved listening to him read. He used to read to her back when they got plenty of sleep. He didn't do voices as such, but there was a passion that came through, an investment... He LOVED reading, and that love came through his voice and washed over you. She could listen to him read for hours. "Chicks with bricks come, chicks with blocks come. Chicks with bricks and blocks and clocks come." She snuggled into the covers and just kept listening.

Sometime before the story's grand climax (something about Tweedle beetle poodle paddle battles?) he trailed off. Though she didn't find it helped much one way or another, her beloved INSISTED that when it looked like the little guy was falling asleep, singing helped ensure peaceful napping as opposed to cranky nodding. Her dear, sweet, wonderful, talented, brilliant, determined husband couldn't carry a tune in a wheelbarrow. But he sang with the same passion and commitment that he did everything else, and it really was beautiful. Today he was singing some soft-sweet nonsense about a web like a spider's web, made of silk and light and shadow... She listened, pictured him sitting next to the cradle, rocking it with one hand, looking down at the life they'd made together, and she fell even more deeply in love with him. With both of them.

Eventually the singing trailed off as well. She heard, faintly, over the baby monitor, her husband whispering "Good boy. Sleep well. Daddy loves you." Something about the way he said those 3 brief sentences awoke something in her. She was still a little turned on from her dream, but really, was there anything sexier than good parenting?

As he slipped out of the nursery and tiptoed down the hall (probably to go take care of the dishes or something. DAMN she loved him...) she whispered to him "Hey, care to join me?" That was their code phrase, their lovers' shorthand, and the invitation in those simple words was clear.

"Are you sure? I'd hate to wake the little guy..." The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable. But he was still removing his socks and jeans.

"He's barely slept. He's got to be tired. Besides," she said, her sly grin clear even in the weak winter light, "it's my afternoon off and I can do anything I want. And right now, I want you."

That was all the encouragement he needed, and he was quickly (and quietly) nude and slipping into the sheets beside her. She took the fingertips that had been tracing her dream-slicked sex and raised them to his lips. As always, the taste and smell of her arousal drove him absolutely wild. He was on her in a moment, mouth claiming hers in a kiss, hands roaming her body, at once possessing and worshiping her.

In a brief moment-out-of-time she reflected that this was why most of her fantasies were actually recollection of their time together. And then as quick as the thought had come, it was past, pushed out by the sensation, the unbelievable pleasure of his skin against hers, the way he smelled, the stiffness of his cock against her leg, and how much she wanted it inside of her.

Normally he was mister foreplay. There were times she had trouble getting his head out from between her legs. But either he sensed her need, or it had been long enough that he had needs of his own. This time he was reaching for the lube (hardly necessary, but thoughtful), applying it, and guiding himself inside of her. Though she could feel the hunger coming off of him in waves (or was that hers?) he still started slowly, gently, giving her every opportunity to set the pace, make adjustments if needed. Instead, she grabbed his ass and forced him into her.

Freed from the bonds of propriety he slid into her, withdrew, and drove in again, finding his own rhythm. She tilted her hips and raised her knees to give him a better angle and slid her own hand between them to give herself a little extra attention. His eyes alternated between looking into hers and clenching shut as if to hold in the ecstasy. God she loved the way he felt inside her. So full, so complete, so sweet and naughty and right. They rocked and slid and crashed together. They'd both instinctively gone quiet, but she could tell from the way he clutched her shoulders, the way his face pressed into her neck, that it was only a matter of time. She moved her fingers just a touch faster, finding JUST the right spot and let his spasms push her over the edge, falling, diving, spiraling into ecstasy

Recovering, she almost giggled at the fact that their breathing was louder than their orgasms had been. He chuckled too, whether it was at the same thought or just out of sheer contentment. "Mmm... thank you so much." he sighed. "I needed that."

She chuckled again. "You make it sound like we're done. The little guy's still out. I'm still game if you are..." But she didn't have to do much convincing. Already he was kissing his way down her body. Baby-chewed breasts, stretch marks, baby weight, he was incredibly turned on by all of her, and somehow managed to make her feel sexy even when they were both too exhausted to do anything about it. And as his tongue parted her swollen lips, he sure didn't seem exhausted.

When his tongue began its slow, lazy spiral around her clit, she almost forgot to be quiet. She had a feeling he was unlikely to slip fingers inside of her (still trying to be gentle even though she'd delivered more than 2 months ago?) but she was feeling like she needed a little something extra. Without moving her hips at all (she hated to disturb an artist at work ;) she reached into the drawer of the nightstand and found a nice stout butt plug. She lubed it up, then slid it under the covers to where his hand gripped her hip.

With the ease of long practice, he took the toy from her and began the long, slow process of introducing it to her. His tongue continued to fill her with pleasure as the stretching, insistent, maddening intrusion of the plug magnified that pleasure, made everything... brighter, rougher, MORE. When the widest part of the toy finally passed, pulled into her, his free hands crept up her rib cage. Her nipples were usually too sensitive for even gentle caresses to feel good, but now that she was nearly out of her mind, soaring, throbbing, on the very edge...

Her whole world went white, filled with static and liquid heat and sensation... He managed to follow her bucking hips, and knew just when to press harder, then lighter, then lighter still to extend per peak, continue her pleasure once she should be too sensitive. Somehow he just knew. Her descent back to earth was nearly as pleasurable as the ascent had been. And of course he pulled the plug from her just before she had to ask him to. His arm snaked out from under the covers to produce a hand towel from somewhere.

As he cleaned her up, her mom-brain sought out the baby monitor and was pleased to hear the gurgling that indicated sound sleep from the other room. This was almost too good to be true. A nap, some good sex, her husband snuggled against her, and their son peacefully slumbering down the hall. Yup. This was what happy felt like.

After a few delicious minutes, crying punched through the stillness. She instinctively started to push herself out of bed, but he stopped her. "It's still your afternoon off, remember? You can go take a shower if you'd like, but I've got this."

A whole shower without straining to hear the baby monitor over the water? He really was spoiling the hell out of her. A girl could get used to this. And as she heard him inquire "And does the prince need his diaper changed? My nose says so..." she couldn't help but smile. She had a hell of a family.