It shouldn't be vile but beautiful. Magical even. A spell of poetry where even the gods gather with admiration. Not just of the visual but the emotional. They should envy the butterflies swarming at your core. The heat stirring in your loins. The spark of desire in your eyes.

It shouldn't be hesitant and shy but passionate almost with a twist of desperation. Shaking and pleading as I slowly remove every garment of fabric from your body. I don't want to be introduced to your naked body, because I wish to unwrap you myself.

From there we are the art. My touch releases your reaction. Your reaction becomes music that inspires my next touch. A conductor, director and artist all in one. You deserve to feel things that you've never felt before, to say and do things that only surprise and excite.

Then when we are finally together, it should start as desire once again dancing on despair. As I massage it between your lips generating liquid and energy you should be squirming. Your walls should be completely down as your true emotions shine forth. I want to hear your needs as you feel yourself stretch for me. That eruption beginning to form from your core.

We both let go at this point. I give you everything I have and you in turn turn your satisfaction into inspiration. The filter is gone, when I'm with you I see you at your purest self.

When the fireworks play and the world returns I want you already wondering how you can get round 2.