My hands are rough and coarse, but I touch you with the softest caress I can.

I know my hands against your soft skin cause sensations that shoot into your nerves. I can feel you shudder and nervously shake as my hands touch you.

Little bumps raise up under my hands as they pass over your flesh. You are hot and I feel your heat emanating up into my palms.

Slowly I explore your shoulders, gently wandering over them, pausing to knead your muscles and rub deeply, breaking away tensions and leaving warm relaxing tingles in their place.

My fingers work against your tissues and play as they dance and drag over you, pressure increasing as I force your tightness to give way under my insistant massages.

My hands surround your neck, moving constantly, thumbs rubbing and flexing against your neck, my fingers closing against your spine in deep caresses as I tenderly melt your body under my hands.

Pliable and warm, soft and given, trusting and needing, you willingly allow me this pleasure.

This is a pleasure so sweet that I feel the thrill throughout my body as I touch you.

My finger tips are alive and electric and they enhance my senses with every valley and muscle and change of flesh texture I meet.

Your body is a pleasureland for me. I couldn't bear all of it at once. You were created to enjoy little by little and without urgency.

Your shoulders are complex. Soft yet strong, fleshy and muscular, with necessary shape, like a structure designed to withstand much, but covered and softened by a heavy tapestry of warm and easy beauty.

Your neck is long and white, regal and aqualine, like those of goddesses and saints imagined by Renaissance masters, and found only in the world of idealic dreams.

I long to kiss your perfect neck and to cover it with wet devotion. I yearn to suck your flesh and taste you. I would feast on your shoulders and neck, happy and content if that was all I was allowed.

But I want much more of you.

I am hungry to taste your full lips, to feel their wet hotness against my own and to taste your sweetness.

I know they hide and protect the true essence of your being.

My mouth replaces my hands and I kiss your neck, small nibbles of wet kisses following the trails blazed by my hands. Every area kissed and sucked tenderly, slowly.

This is a joy that should not be hurried, but should be prolonged for as long as the mind can endure.

Such a stimulating and delicious journey around your neck and across and down your shoulders, lulling my mind with the calmness of the moment... no urgency... no haste.

But even in this tranquil state, I am excited beyond words.

I am where I want to be then, loving and kissing and caressing you... showing you my feelings without words, with only gentle touches and my hot breath covering you like a fog as my mouth passes over you.

My rough hands now move down you body and I brush your breasts, casually and innocently, almost accidentally, but assuredly on purpose and with an intent that you will soon realize.

And my mouth continues its happy work, seeking to cover and know all of you.

My mouth never tires of you, and aches to devour you, to eat you up and to savor you.

My lips are open and wet as I move across your neck and to your ears, carefully kissing them, gently sucking your lobes and my tongue flicking lightly at your ear. No sloppy wet probing, but soft hints of kisses, teasing and offering more.

And I breathe my hot breath on you and I tell you in whispers of my desire for you... How much I want you and need you.

My words fill your ears and I can feel you tremble to know the passion I feel for you, but my words pale beside my true feelings for you.

I could spend days searching through dictonaries, and I could never find the words adequate to even begin to make you know how I really feel.

And I am left to show you.

My heart races as I kiss your cheeks and then I face you for a moment. You can see my feelings in my eyes, with messages sent directly from my heart and soul.

You have to know and feel my energy directed at you, my desires focused on you, my emotions given to you.

I lean forward and kiss your lips. I can feel your face pressed against mine and I feel you flow into me.

My hands hold your face as we kiss. Still, lingering, meaningful kisses. Kisses that tell you all. Kisses that can never be misunderstood in their simplicity and purity. Kisses that tell you everything.

My arms wrap around you and I hold you tight, like I am afraid you will disappear or float away.

I have needed to hold you like this for all of my life to today. Now I want this to last for the rest of my life.

This is where I belong, holding you and feeling your body fully against mine, our lips melded together, as we exchange our breaths and wet tastes.

My arms hold you tighter and yours wrap around my neck. Kissing, we feel each other and hear our sighs and moans... messages without words.

Your breasts are full against my chest. Crushed under the force with which I hold you. Our kisses intensify and we hold tighter.

I want you so much. My mind is full of you. My eyes are blind to everything but yours. My ears hear only your breathing.

I feel only my passion reflected back with your own. I am overwhelmed by you... overpowered by you... captivated by you... fascinated by you...

Time ceases. The world stops.

My hands explore your back, moving slowly, again caressing and massaging, feeling your shape. Down to your waist... then further down to your buttocks... firm and tight and round.

My hands are full as they measure and touch you, kneading and needing, and cupping your ass... pulling you to me tighter. So exciting... so sensuous this feeling.

My mouth is hard against yours, open, wet, and sucking as our tongues probe and exchange pleasure.

Our bodies are tight against each others. My rough hands feel your smooth ass, lifting you slightly in my urgent need for you.

But even as I am desperate to make love to you, I want our play to last longer.

I raise back from you and take your hands and guide you to the bed. I place you near the side and I sit beside you. I slowly unfasten your blouse and you slip it off and set it aside.

You roll onto your stomach as my hands again touch your shoulders. Working my fingers into your muscles I move across your back, kneading, and pressing. My fingers are in synronous motion as they ply your back.

And when they have traveled across all of your shoulders and back, they return to the base of your neck.

I place one palm down on your back and I slam my other fist hard against it, causing muted impacts into your muscles and flesh.

I move my hands in steady repeating slamming and rubbing motions until I have covered your back again.

I begin a rapid chopping motion with the edges of my outstretched hands, alternating the impacts as I move across you, never slowing or stopping.

Chop, chop, chop, my hands work on and on and on.

I can feel your body relaxing beneath my hands. Your face is turned and your eyes are closed. I can hear soft contented sounds from your smiling mouth.

You are calm as I finish this first massage by gently rubbing in swirling patterns with my palms warming your skin and leaving a pale pink color.

I unsnap your bra as you roll onto your back. I pull it away from your breasts which spill out onto your chest.

They are beautiful, round, full, so inviting and exciting to me. Your nipples now stiffening in the air and from the excitement of me looking at them in the light.

Your eyes are open wide as you wait for me to move.

Many thoughts race through my mind. Hundreds of generations of patterning from my ancestors causes me to want to take your breasts and touch them, fondling, kissing and sucking in urgent and immediate need.

But I control myself yet and I gently feel your nipples, running my fingers around your pink areola, and then touching the tip of your bud-like nipples. I cup your breasts in my hands and lift and hold them.

Your breathing becomes deeper and your eyes watch my every move.

I release your breasts and move to your neck, up under your chin, slowly rubbing my thumbs up and over as my fingers massage your neck down to your shoulders.

My hands press and caress you with all of my devotion to your pleasure, carefully pushing and pressing, working and kneading, massaging and caressing, giving you my gift of my care.

And my hands move slowly, working their way down until I tenderly stroke your breasts and move them from side to side slightly.

Their firmness maintains their symetry and shape, but the mass causes them to sag a little as you lie there willing for me.

Your white skin is almost dazzling to me. It is as pure as hard alabaster, yet as soft as the richest silk. I am full of wonder as I look at you.

My heart wants to scream out loud, singing your praises and proclaiming your magnificence.

You possess me with my desire for you. You own me because of my need for you.

You bless me with your submission to my simple attempts to please you.

My hands work on your flesh, molding and forming your breasts to them. Your cherry-like nipples, hard from attention, stand up in beautiful contrast to your soft, pink, flat, aerola and creamy white breasts.