"It's
like her body is written in cursive, her elegant curvation cursing at
me in the language of love, talking dirty with each sultry move. Lust is
a list of simple commands, designed by the mind to meet
physio-emotional demands, and it's as if her body is transcribing my
desire, swirling letters in the burning fire that is my passion. The
symmetry of her breasts are like rhymes; there is irony between
the width of her waist and size of her behind. Her skin glows with the
bristling shine of an anticipatory nervous system, a breathtaking
metaphor to behold--she is poetry in motion, a silent commotion heard
only by the eyes. As with all prose, she is a matter of complex
simplicity; simply wanting to pleased, but wanting it done in the ways
that her body suggests implicitly...so as I admire the penmanship of her
sexuality, all the details of her body, I listen and read intently. Her
literature tempts me..."
-A. Lewis
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