What I would have wanted

The sun has just risen above the treetops, and the soft morning light shines across the wooden floor. She has been awake for a long time already, roused from her sleep by the most precious thing.

Her little son has a habit of waking up at five, but she doesn’t mind.

It is always with joy and gratitude that she nurses her child, even though she hasn’t had many hours of uninterrupted sleep in the past weeks.

After feeding him, she sneaks into the living room and lies down on the couch with the little one. His skin is so soft, and his fingers so tiny. She cannot get enough of him.

He has fluffy dark hair that sticks straight up and large blue eyes that seem to be directly connected to the center of the universe. He is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen.

By half-past six, her husband usually gets up to make coffee, allowing her to go back to bed while he handles the morning routines. She typically manages to get an hour of sleep before the little one wants to nurse again before his morning nap.

But this morning, she has barely drifted off when her husband opens the bedroom door.

He looks tired. Tired but happy, and in his arms, the little one sleeps with his sweet mouth half-open.

Noticing that he has woken her, he pauses in the doorway. Then, he tiptoes to the crib and gently lays the baby down. He carefully pulls the blanket over the tiny body and lingers for a moment, marveling at the miracle.

She watches him.

He is so handsome, with his broad shoulders and sun-kissed skin. He’s wearing white boxers, and his long, straight legs are covered in fine, golden hairs illuminated by the morning light.

She’s never seen him like this before he became a father.

He has changed.

He is slower now, more deliberate and gentle.

He notices her gaze and turns to meet her eyes.

She has sat up in bed, wrapping the thick blanket around her waist. Her dark hair, usually tied back in a ponytail, tumbles untamed around her shoulders, and there is something wild about her. It’s as if something primal stirs within her soft, nurturing mother’s body.

She has changed too.

Her shoulders are rounder now, as are her cheeks, and the little wrinkle that usually creases her brow has completely smoothed out. She was radiant when she carried his child, but now—now she is divine.

He has witnessed her strength and profound vulnerability.

He saw her welcome their son into the world as if it were the most natural thing, and now she sits here in his bed.

The woman of all women.

Hot waves of warm love flow between their bodies. It's as if a magical force has united them since they became pregnant. The force has grown between them and culminated when their child came into the world.

It is a force that heals all wounds and forgives all wrongs.

It is the power of pure love.

He walks over to the bed and sits down on the edge.

He tilts his head and squints at her.

She suddenly feels shy.

He notices it from her uncertain smile.

"Come," she says, lifting the blanket aside.

She wants to feel him close. His skin is so golden, and his hands are so soft. She wants to touch his skin and be touched by his hands, and when he slowly leans over her, she can smell his scent. His scent has always intoxicated her; it drives her crazy.

"Lift your arm," she asks, and he does as she wants.

He raises his arm and places his hand behind his head.

From his armpit, blond strands of hair peek out, and she lets her face come as close as possible without touching him.

Instead, she inhales.

She takes a deep breath to fill herself with a pungent scent full of nutty, dark undertones.

It's his summer scent.

The scent his skin gets at the end of summer.

The scent of sun and testosterone.

He lowers his arm and looks at her.

There is nothing in her that is in a hurry. Nothing in her that wants to go anywhere. He notices this, and it calms him.

Slowly, he strokes her hair from her shoulder and lifts it at the nape of her neck. He loves her neck. It was one of the parts he first fell in love with, and now he holds it under his hand.

He rubs his nose against her neck and inhales.

It is in her neck that her pheromones are released, and her scent cannot be described in words.

It opens him up.

It turns him on.

But there is a new scent that has emerged since she became a mother. Her two scents blend together, and he just has to inhale again. He is fascinated by her new scent and what it awakens in him.

It awakens a feeling of wanting to protect her from all harm.

To give her everything she needs.

He feels the same emotion, only stronger, when he smells his son.

The child’s scent has become hers.

"You know I love you, right?"

His words feel small and clumsy in relation to what he feels, but he knows she understands. That everything right now is so big and that their love is so magical.

Right now.

He just wants to be here, right now.

Nowhere else.

He strokes her shoulder, and the hairs on her skin stand up.

She closes her eyes, sighing softly. She loves his hand.

His hand moves downward and pauses on the outside of her tense breast. She holds her breath for a few seconds, as if to absorb the breast’s longing for him.

He caresses its curve and then cups his hand underneath it. He lifts it and lets its weight rest in his hand. She moans with relief, and he can see how she enjoys it.

With both hands, he presses them together, squeezing his hands into them. They are firm and tense beneath their soft surface. Her nipples are large and dark, and he doesn’t need more than a touch for them to start leaking. Thick white drops of warm, sweet milk seep out and run in rivulets down his hands and forearms.

She enjoys it.

It feels like a release when it starts flowing.

Her breasts seem to light up with an electric net inside them. A network of fine threads whose tingling pleasure pulls and tears all the way into her heart.

She rises to her knees and wraps her arms around him. She presses her body against his. It gets wet between them, but it doesn’t matter. She kisses him along his collarbone and up to his neck, all the while leaning back and pulling him closer. She wants him entirely near.

They kiss passionately, just as they did in the beginning when they were newly in love. They kiss so intensely it makes their vision go dark. He grabs her hair at the nape of her neck and pulls her head back, and she presses her aching breasts against him. Behind their breastbones, their hearts pound so hard they seem about to break through their ribcages and unite in a cascade of love.

She lets her legs wrap around him and runs her fingers through his hair.

Between kisses, she softly whispers in his ear:

“You know I love you, don’t you?”

Over and over, she whispers, even though she knows he knows.

He is so big, so beautiful, so much a man, and she feels his masculinity pulsating between her legs. His cock begins to harden, straining against the fabric of his underwear. She moves her hand to his groin, stroking it curiously and inquisitively over his pants.

She realizes she loves his cock in a new way when she slips her hand under his underwear. He is hard and warm. The soft skin feels electric, and she feels a tingling between her legs. She loves his cock in a new way. Before, it was the key to pleasure, arousal, and playfulness. Now it is the gateway to life. She is so grateful for the seed he planted in her and so happy to reap the fruits of that seed every day with their little one.

“Shall we go to the couch,” she whispers.

He grins mischievously at her, eagerly standing up, taking her hand, and running with her through the hallway into the living room. He wraps his arms around her waist, lifts her up, spins her around, and sets her on the couch. Then he drops to his knees in front of her, pauses, and looks into her face with sparkling eyes. He rests his head on her thigh and takes a deep breath as if to absorb her, to fill his lungs with her.

She lets her fingers caress his golden curls while he gently strokes the inside of her thigh. She is so soft there.

“Come, let’s lie down,” she says, and together they arrange the couch cushions on the floor so they can lie side by side.

He slips his arm under her neck, and they meet in a long, warm kiss that makes their loins swell. He places his hand over her mons pubis like a warm, protective blanket and kisses her more deeply. She nibbles on his lip as she moves closer, pressing her groin against his hand. He can feel how she opens, and a drop of wet arousal seeps through the fabric of her panties.

“May I touch you?” he whispers gently in her ear.

She hums in response, her gaze hazy and her cheeks flushed. Slowly, he slides his hand under her panties, resting it over her warm mound. He strokes her labia slowly and lightly, with a gentle reverence for her vulnerable power. They haven’t made love since the birth; he has longed for her, but both needed time to adjust to everything new. He knows her body has changed, and it feels like touching her for the first time. She feels the same. Her body feels new and untouched, as if she has never let anyone else experience the pulsing power between her legs.

His finger slowly finds its way between her swollen labia. He rests it there, feeling her wetness. At the same time, her breasts tighten, and a tingling cascade of breast milk flows from her tense breasts as the first small orgasm meets his fingertip.

“Oh,” she says, embarrassed. But they both giggle at the phenomenon, thinking her shirt isn’t the only thing that’s wet now. Her vagina is practically dripping with arousal as he moves two fingers closer to her opening. It is swollen and demanding, and a sucking force within her inexorably draws his fingers into her. She sighs as he enters her, and he remains still. For a long time. Her body vibrates with pleasure and longing, her legs spreading apart, and her inner self opens even more.

Slowly and tenderly, he slides his fingers out of her, and she whimpers. Then he pulls down her panties and turns her over. Now she arches before him, pressing her eager hips against his swollen groin. He pulls down his pants and places his cock between her thighs. It rests there, throbbing, and she presses herself longingly against him, whimpering and sighing. With one hand, he slowly guides his cock to hers, placing the tip at her opening, letting her adjust to his thickness. She rubs herself against his glans, back and forth, as his erection grows harder and firmer.

Then she pauses and takes a deep breath. Carefully, she presses herself against his cock, and he remains perfectly still. He breathes into her neck, where her scent carries a hint of mild fear. It stings her skin as she lets him enter her. A pang of unfamiliar heat, and on the other side, she is filled with deep contentment as his warm, hard length penetrates her. She pauses, her breathing quick and shallow. He lets his hands caress her rounded thighs and up to her hips. There, he takes a firm grip, holding her completely still. He knows she wants to rush it. He knows she longs to guide her hips and press him deeper inside, but he feels she isn’t ready yet, so he holds her steady.

Instead, he gives her a hundred small kisses over her neck and shoulders. The pleasure makes her sex clench around him, and with that, she relaxes and opens herself even deeper. Gently, he moves back and forth, just where she opens. She whimpers impatiently; she wants him all the way in, as they used to before the little one came. But he wants to explore her body. He wants to take it slow.

He places one hand on her lower back and the other over her mons pubis. In this way, he has complete control over her and can feel his cock through her belly as he presses deeper into her. She moans.

“Is it okay?” he asks.

She can only hum in response, and he hears in her voice that she is enjoying it.

A soft orgasm ripples through her, and then she opens up once more. Deeper.

Eventually, she is so open that it feels as if they are melting together. Every movement is like a smooth and gentle revelation of divinity. The skin on his cock vibrates with tiny electric orgasms, causing the inside of her vagina to alternately ripple and relax. He climaxes but delays his release, and his orgasm triggers hers. He stays still inside her, letting her finish before moving again.

Together, they let the pleasure wash over them again and again until they can’t take any more and collapse into each other’s arms. Panting and warm with love. He kisses her face repeatedly while whispering:

“I will always love you.”

More than half of all women lose their sexual desire after childbirth—but it doesn’t have to be that way! What if we could see pregnancy, childbirth, and the early parenting years as an opportunity to explore new dimensions of pleasure and intimacy? This isn’t about rushing to feel desire for someone else’s sake, but about giving yourself the freedom to listen, embrace the changes, and discover what truly feels good—right now.

Pregnancy and childbirth are essential parts of a woman’s psychosexual development. But in a world where women’s bodies are often objectified and where sex is equated with penetration—often with a rough edge—there’s little room for a woman’s sexual pleasure during pregnancy, childbirth, and the early years of motherhood.

It used to be said that women should “get back into” sex after childbirth for the sake of the relationship. But let’s be honest: is there anything less arousing than pressure and performance? When we instead focus on a woman’s own pleasure, her rhythm, and her needs, we open the door to a sexuality that not only survives the parenting years but thrives long afterward.

In a culture where sex is often reduced to penetration and orgasm, we miss so much of the profound, sensual pleasure the body can offer. For both men and women, it can be liberating to let go of old ideas about what sex “should be” and instead explore what feels right in the moment—whether it’s gentle touch, energetic sex, or simply closeness without any goal.

For men, it’s just as important to learn to enjoy their whole body and understand that intimacy is about more than just penetration. When both partners give themselves and each other the time to listen to their bodies’ signals, it not only creates safety but also a deeper connection that can enhance both desire and love.

If, as a couple, you explore a deeper sexuality during pregnancy and practice letting go of control and surrendering to the moment, the woman can also harness her ability to experience sexual pleasure during childbirth. Giving birth can be as powerful as an orgasm, and by embracing the sensual and romantic aspects of labor, a woman’s body can birth without pain—and even with pleasure.

And here’s the real gift: if a woman is given the space to reconnect with her body and sexuality after childbirth, her pleasure can grow stronger with time. A body that has had time to heal and explore its own rhythm becomes a body that ages with joy and satisfaction. A person living in a body that feels pleasure becomes a kinder, more present parent, friend, and partner.