...ever moved you to tears; or almost to tears?
It could be a real person or a photograph since one man's porn is another man's art.
But I'm not talking about the rise you get when you look at porn or a naked woman in your bed. What I'm talking about goes beyond horniness. It's when you see a beautiful woman in all her "glory" and are just awe struck by that beauty. You realize that you're not just looking at a naked body but at a wonderful work of art. You suddenly understand why Renaissance artists such as Rodin were preoccupied with doing nude statues and wish you had the skill of Rodin so as to capture and immortalize that beauty you are now looking at.
The feeling is one that goes deep inside and grips at your heart. If you should try to express this feeling to that woman by telling her she's beautiful, you might as well have handed her a bouquet of wilted, dusty flowers because the words don't come close to describing what you feel. Grand words such as were used in old chivalric poems, like "Goddess" and "Worship" come to mind, but they too lack the capacity to express. Nor would you dare to betray this feeling or flatter the object of your affection with the words of another.
You wish you could get her to understand what it is you are feeling for her at that moment, that it goes well beyond sexual arousal, transcends the stiffness in your groin and penetrates the depths of all that is female. You bask in the radiance of her sex knowing that you are beholding only one figure in a magnificent work of art. If only you could find the words to thank her. Thank her for the act of removing her clothes for you and thus unveiling a portion of this great work.
If it's a photograph of someone you have never met, then you know that in some strange way you are not just in love with a photograph, because, if you were to meet her you know you would be in love with her. She gazes into the photographer's lens but her eyes gaze at you from beyond the picture as if the photographer was simply the messenger used by her to remind you of the connection the two of you share. You gaze back, hoping that this woman, whoever and wherever she is, feels your gaze at that very moment and knows that you have connected.
And when she is no longer naked before you, her image remains radiant in your mind tearing at you with sweet longing....
It could be a real person or a photograph since one man's porn is another man's art.
But I'm not talking about the rise you get when you look at porn or a naked woman in your bed. What I'm talking about goes beyond horniness. It's when you see a beautiful woman in all her "glory" and are just awe struck by that beauty. You realize that you're not just looking at a naked body but at a wonderful work of art. You suddenly understand why Renaissance artists such as Rodin were preoccupied with doing nude statues and wish you had the skill of Rodin so as to capture and immortalize that beauty you are now looking at.
The feeling is one that goes deep inside and grips at your heart. If you should try to express this feeling to that woman by telling her she's beautiful, you might as well have handed her a bouquet of wilted, dusty flowers because the words don't come close to describing what you feel. Grand words such as were used in old chivalric poems, like "Goddess" and "Worship" come to mind, but they too lack the capacity to express. Nor would you dare to betray this feeling or flatter the object of your affection with the words of another.
You wish you could get her to understand what it is you are feeling for her at that moment, that it goes well beyond sexual arousal, transcends the stiffness in your groin and penetrates the depths of all that is female. You bask in the radiance of her sex knowing that you are beholding only one figure in a magnificent work of art. If only you could find the words to thank her. Thank her for the act of removing her clothes for you and thus unveiling a portion of this great work.
If it's a photograph of someone you have never met, then you know that in some strange way you are not just in love with a photograph, because, if you were to meet her you know you would be in love with her. She gazes into the photographer's lens but her eyes gaze at you from beyond the picture as if the photographer was simply the messenger used by her to remind you of the connection the two of you share. You gaze back, hoping that this woman, whoever and wherever she is, feels your gaze at that very moment and knows that you have connected.
And when she is no longer naked before you, her image remains radiant in your mind tearing at you with sweet longing....
