He woke up to a dream; He woke up in a dream, yet it wasn’t a dream at all. It was all real. . . him, her, and silence. Sleeping peacefully.
He looked at the painting they had hanging across the room of “The Kiss by Gustav Klimt” and he got this wonderful idea. He knew he was in the perfect spot for the perfect kiss. He looked over and eyed her sleeping so peacefully. Positioning himself over her, he pulled over the sheets and looked at the painting again. Then he looked at the girl, his love lying under him. He started by kissing her forehead, taking his time as he trailed his way down her face. He lingered over her cheek; his mouth pressed against her skin before he found her lips. He tasted them with his tongue as he kissed them again, realizing that he couldn’t stop there. Nuzzling her throat his mouth exploring south, he traced the veins in her neck with his lips. Following the path down into the chasm, the road that leads to the twin mountain territory, he kissed her neck down to her breast.