Our children would have had beautiful eyes.
Yours, dark and kind and filled with understanding. Softening when you catch my gaze. Crinkling with mischievousness when you tease me. Widening when you’re serious. Closing, tense, as you enter me and whisper, “fuck you are so tight.”
Or mine, bright and blue and sparkling with adoration whenever I see you. Playful as I flirt with you. Beneath a furrowed brow as I feel you slide into me. Rolling back into my head as you begin to thrust.
In another life, our children would have had beautiful eyes. Our eyes.
And your smile, the real one you so rarely let others see, when you forget for a moment that your mind is tired. The one when you are at peace and truly happy.
And my curly hair, always in the way, leaving tumbleweeds all over your floor to remind you that I’m there in spirit even when I can’t physically be curled up on your couch waiting for you to walk in after work and say, “Daddy’s home” before pushing me up against a wall and kissing me, hard and hungry.
“Breed me,” I gasp.
You do. I feel you throb deep inside me as you groan and growl in my eat that you’re fucking a baby into me. It makes me clench tight around you and cum too, scratching down your back and tying to pull you deeper as if you will never be deep enough.
Because you will never be deep enough.
We both know it’s just part of the game. It’s physically impossible and would be too complicated even if it weren’t. I can’t get pregnant with your baby.
But in another life…
I would be there to calm your demons all the time instead of boarding a plane back home. A home that doesn’t really feel completely like home anymore because you’re not there.
I would cook dinner and watch our kids play and rub your back every night when you got home from work. We’d delight in domestic bliss but also plan grand adventures to see the world together and have exploits so kinky it would make even the most depraved readers of my blog blush.
Some days, I mourn that life, the one we might have had if a million things had gone differently.
But then I remember that if just one or two things had gone differently we never would have met at all.
And suddenly I am so grateful for the life we do have together, even if it is weird and hard sometimes.
Still, it makes me smile to think:
Our children would have had beautiful eyes.
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