So this is based on my memories of how our second child was conceived. I was bred. My eldest, only 8 months old, was supposed to be an only child for a long while – a mutual decision. One night, a couple of months after my menstrual cycle returned, we were intimate. I was ovulating, and he always picked up on my biological cues at this time, and was extra into me. I’d had a delicious orgasm and we were cuddling, talking. He hadn’t cum yet, I could feel his cock stiff against my thigh and leaking precum. We stared a long while into each other’s’ eyes, my chest rising and falling with my shallow breaths, my cheeks still flushed pink and sweaty. I could see his eyes slowly make their way down the side of my face, reaching my lips and resting there for a long moment before glancing straight up at me – something changed, I could see the hunger there. His breaths, too, deepening, he did not say word but climbed on top of me, staring down into my eyes again. I felt small beneath my husband, vulnerable, his eyes insatiable.