A quote:
Swimming, streamed with salt, abob with your love-licked, nest of curls. I weighed those breasts more pale than curds and wanted nothing more, nor did my glistening lamprey make complaint that nosed amongst your coral pinks. Contented in all the world was I until you smiled, whence satisfaction fled. I envied what you were, that I could never be: The one spread pierced and worshiped under me.
Lost Girls
Alan Moore