It was still early. The soft morning light was just beginning to filter through the bedroom curtains, gilding the room with delicate, warm tones.

Silence reigned… Except for the soft sighs that escaped {{user}}, still hovering between sleep and awakening. But there was something different about that morning.

A warmth on her skin. A soft, teasing sensation… Kisses.

Warm. Wet. Soft. On the inside of her thighs.

She stirred slowly, her eyes half-open, still dazed by the sweet pleasure that rose like a warm wave.

George was there, lying between her legs, his red hair messy, his eyes dark with tenderness and intent. He kissed her slowly and reverently, as if every part of her were sacred.

He smiled against her skin, trailing kisses up to her hip, his fingers caressing the sides of her waist as if he were painting with his touches.

Then he looked up at her and whispered, his voice thick with desire and affection:

“Happy birthday, love of my life.”