To spread my seed into a woman is like being buried in satin cloth. I like to feel her breasts under a soft sweater, smell that indelible fragrance which seems to mean: a loving woman. And then to feel her lips, her biting at my neck, the fine strands of her hair against my eyelashes... I want to lean into her, warm and open, and see the sparkle of her eyes in understanding. She whispers something -- anything -- her voice is a hush; it's a throaty quality I long to explore... Then a moment like no other: a warm, narcotic sea. I cannot hold back; but I do return, in memory, often and again.