Again that, thin, tentative, yet demanding cry. Sleeps sensuous pit rejects him as he unwillingly, swings his feet to the floor. Wifely shape slumbers on, oblivious. Her turn, too. Forgetting sleep, as cold air strikes bed-warm chest. Weary legs stagger to reach cot-side.

That tiny back is patted gently while fingers grope over smooth, sleep-warm face, locating sticky maw of mouth. He has that momentary parental glow as hard wet gums suckle eagerly on his finger. Soother is quickly found, offered, and keenly accepted. Silence.

He staggers hopefully back to bed. Cunning motherhood is still unmoving. He can’t resist sly, icy fingers on that bare wifely back. She heaves into a satisfying electric shock jerk as she turns, to dig an elbow to his ribs.

But, there exists that indefinable magic in their lives, and chances that must be grasped, if time and need are present. He is surprised, as her lips stroke his stubbled cheek, and so thankful when she offers beloved breasts to his welcoming mouth. Speed seems essential as her fingers fondle his male semi-softness from grateful, into lustful hardness. His finger, earlier sucked in sticky maw now finds her moister, more mature opening.

There is little delay, in his hardness entering her eager wetness. Their cries of mutual delight are so subdued, yet the whispered, “I love you,” that ricochets between them echoes what lies in two hearts sharing this climax.

And as they lie, this pair, clinging tightly, gratefully together, might they wonder if this gifted, this unexpected, unprotected, moment may have opened a door to an added sibling cry?