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I stroked his magnificent body, unable to believe it had been over seven years since he had first come into my life. His hand moved between my legs, his fingers brushing against my mound.

My moans filled the air as he took me right there on the stairs. Absent of the usual condom, I felt all of him for the first time—long, hard, and slick-- sliding in and out. Thrusting harder and faster as I lost myself in the moment.

Through it all, I momentarily thought of having his son or daughter, and growing old with him. But then I forgot how to think at all as me made love to me with more passion than I’d ever felt before. Just when I could hardly stand it anymore, he slowed his pace.

“Sore?” I asked, smirking.

“I’m getting old,” he laughed.

“We are not getting old. Let’s go upstairs.”

I swayed my hips back and forth, giggling gleefully as he squeezed my left butt-cheek and slapped the other.

“We want to make this a happy baby, not some fifty shades of gray baby,” I said, glancing over my shoulder as I reached the top of the stairs.

He grinned. “We’re gonna make the happiest, cutest, smartest, and funniest baby ever.”

“Here’s to hoping he or she gets the best from both of us.”

I stopped and kissed him, stroking his baby-maker to keep it hard.

Our master bedroom was a welcomed sight. We made our way to the bed, stealing kisses as if it were our first night together.

I couldn’t help thinking how as we grew closer each passing day, our love for each other continued to blossom. I simply couldn’t imagine a world without him in it.

He slid himself into me as I laid on my back with my legs held up by his broad shoulders. The friction sent tingles of pleasure through my body. The break to come upstairs had somehow heightened my senses.

We gazed into each other’s eyes, both of us breathing heavily. My hardened nipples rubbed against his body as he moved up and down.

“Warren…”

His eyes closed as he came, and I did the same half-a-second later. Our bodies, connected, writhed in pleasure as the orgasms washed over us.

He slowed his strokes, then stopped. Still inside of me, he kissed me on the lips.

While I would never know for certain if that was the night we conceived, I had a hunch.

He pulled out and then collapsed next to me.

“You’re thinking too much again, aren’t you?” he said, studying my expression.

“Probably,” I said. “It’s just that…that was so…I mean, we almost never…”

“I know. It was like the first time.”

We cuddled for a while before I reached down to touch between his legs. He kissed me, and before we knew it, the process started all over again.

By the end of the year, we had our first child. A girl named Jasmine Anne Lewis. We both loved her more than anything else in the world, and we proved it daily for the rest of our lives.

Things didn’t always work out our way, but we stood by each other until the end.

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