There was a pathway beneath his boots made from what almost looked like white sand, sparkling in the sunlight. It wasn’t loose like sand, however. T...e texture was more like asphalt. He was surrounded by trees, their leaves swaying gently in the wind, and there were bushes with colorful flowers that lined the walkway to either side. He couldn’t see very far. Wherever he looked, his line of sight seemed to be obscured, either by the fat tree trunks or by the very landscape itself, carefully. He stands up straight, his hands still on my hips. ‘I love you my beautiful southern belle,’ he says. Then he leans in and kisses me softly. I take the bottom of his t-shirt in my hands and pull up. He raises his arms to help me get his shirt off him. I toss it to the floor. I lean into him. We both moan as we felt the skin on skin contact. He slowly guides me backwards to the bed, not once looking away from my eyes. He softly sings the lyrics to a Sloan song ‘You won’t forget, the beautiful. More

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