Dare I fuck you? Dare I reach out and, in the blatant audacity of my love, take my cock and press it into your body? You taunt me with your wetness, the ease at which you slide over me, the power with which you grasp me within you. And yet I dare to thrust and withdraw, filling you and then retreat, only to fill you again. My strength lifts you from the bed and yet when you finish with me it fails you, slipping limp from your depth as you wait for more, something more.

Imagine yourself Helen of Troy, a woman so beautiful that men will risk their lives, will risk entire nations just to look at you, to touch you, to feel the infinite soft wonder inside you. Imagine the reverent first touch of a man’s fingers to your face, fingers roughened in a single desperate search to find and capture you. Then his fingers weave through your hair as he trembles in his overwhelming desire for you, his urgent need to touch you, yes and take you and yet, he pauses, only touching your hair, enthralled in the simple blink of your eye.

He swallows, fighting his deepest yearning to watch your breasts rise and fall with each progressive breath. Studying their curves he lowers his hand to hold it just above you, as if absorbing the aura of your softness through the scant fabric. Every fiber of his being longs to tear the fabric away so he can see your naked beauty, but still he pauses in near desperation awaiting the faintest whisper.

Downward his hands move hovering just above your stomach, where his body aches to plant his seed, the a****l inside him straining to fill you with himself, the spawn of his pleasure, the echo of his need. His hand trembles but still does not touch you, he denies himself to drink in each moment of you.

Further down, he lowers his head, as each breath brings a hint of you, the slightest hint of your fragrance excites him and frightens him. He is a rock among men, hard, unyielding a weighty force and yet at the first whisper from your lips, the first breath of your scent, the first sight of your lithe body and he is liquid, forming his body to fill your needs. As you stand naked before him, you watch his body transform for you, his hands cup to hold your breast, his mouth opens to touch your lips, his arms curl to embrace you and his cock, his cock grows for your bidding.

A hand that could crush a man gently squeezes a breast, the fingertips lightly dance on the nipple, arms that could stop a horse lift you to a bed of feathers. His cock, enormous in your fingers will lead him to bend his will to you, to expend his strength for only your pleasure. He kneels at your feet as a thousand ships sail to avenge this moment, the moment his strength becomes entirely yours.