I would kiss her breasts and run my tongue around her nipples, enjoying them hardening and responding. Now would be the time that I would encourage her to lie back on the bed and kiss her mouth, enjoying the play of our tongues and gently stroking her face, hair and breasts. I would loosen the buttons and zipper on her jeans, ever sensitive to any slight sign of reluctance to continue and I would encourage her to lift her hips so that I could ease the pants down and off. Now I would start undoing my shirt and throw it off and enjoy the skin-to-skin sensation of my chest against her breasts and hope that she was enjoying that also. I would not care how long this lasted…it would be until she moved so that my hand could access her thighs with her compliance. All the time kissing and licking I would slide my hand inside her panties and gently rub over her mound, hoping that she would invite me further by parting her thighs. When this happened I would loosen my trousers and slide them. His hand shot up, grappling with the bedclothes in a frantic rush to cover the malformed side of his face. Once he achieved this goal, he sat frozen in place as his ragged breathing calmed and the heaving of his chest subsided. Lowering his hand, he drew in a long deep breath through his nose and then slowly blew it out through pursed lips. He tried it again, but his usual salvation of performing his breathing exercise had not helped. Crumpling forward, he leaned his elbows on his thighs and placed his face into his hands. A wave of despair swept through the man, his shoulders wracked as he began to weep in earnest."Why? Why will this dream not leave me alone? The life I dream about is not mine, so why do I weep? Why does this dream both haunt and horrify me? I hoped meeting Christine would banish the dream, but no. The dream came tonight clearer than ever before and I can remember everything that happened in it. I never could do that before tonight. Meeting the angel of my dream did.
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