from head to toe your beauty shines.
Your horns, like pillars of Jasper.
Your eyes, like lamps of brightest topaz.
Your lips, curved into a snakelike wisp of smug confidence, would surely be at home around my masculine rod.
I would grasp you by the hips and wrestle you for control, each of us fighting to be the one on top as I thrust ever deeper into your womanly sheathe, driving it not unlike the mighty Emrys Myriddin drove the blade of Caliburn into the stone. How I would savor the many fleeting times where I would lose control to you, watching that delightful smile curl up in rarely revealed joy. As I hear your lovely contralto order me to go deeper, despite my exhaustion, I would revel in my opportunity to bring you such pleasure. As I finally, joyously, fill your womb with my seed, I lust for the feeling of despair and arousal I would feel as your duplicates surrounded my exhausted form and demanded satisfaction.
Ok, gotta go eat.