I kissed her quickly before kissing Maria’s forehead. “Would you burp and rock her, John? She’s been a little cranky since dinner. You know h...w much she loves to be rocked.” I removed my jacket, tie, and slacks--returning just as Maria was finishing up. She was on my shoulder, her head resting on one of the soft cloth diapers we always used for burping. Maria was sorely lacking in the social graces; she often spit up part of her meal, most frequently on her poor father’s shirts.Tonight. A couple of minutes later, she came in with the food, and I knew right away why the delivery boy didn't want to let her go. Her skin must have been wet from the shower when she threw on the white t-shirt, and with the cold October breeze, her pink perky nipples were very visible under the damp, semi-transparent material of the shirt. As I looked at her, realizing what the delivery boy had seen, I had to sit at the table to hide my arousal. I had mixed emotions. I have never liked the idea of my. More

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