Lust

Lying before him, my head rises and I see his body of masculinity in all its glory.  I gaze into his eyes and maintain my sights and wit while bearing witness to his hands that press firmly upon me.  His hands are like no other in that they are sculptured like fine marble in pristine manner made possible by a master.  He lays grasp upon my thighs and pries me to his way.  Better and more beautiful hands could not be found on Adonis as his tone is human.  Aye, a bit of a struggle is given, yet in all sincerity, my longing does not want him to waver.  Steadfastly, he lays claim to what is justly his and pours forth his rod into my fever and feeds the very fire that he has ignited. - 11/21/06 at 7:03 p.m.