Love -

Is a massive cock.

A pornographic thing. Stretched, pulsing, bouncing at your eye level (or maybe mouth). Supposedly natural.

But why must it be endured in the public garden? Like a detailed carving of once humble Priapus adorning the fountain.

Such sights catch the eye. Inciting curious envy or wild imagining...

To the voyeur.

But what of the wielder?

No weapon can be greater. No tempered steel compares to the scalding, branding heat between those legs.

Those struck die and rise. Creating worshipers who kiss the means of their rebirth. Tasting the salt. Bathing the shaft.

And for the receiver, the victim, the toy?

Please be kind.

She is so small, and a body cannot help but struggle...

To allow in such girth. No matter how far she spreads, the sensations expand within. Stretching and gasping and leaving only fiery tension, the aching pleasure, and delightful pain.

Then, Love pushes deeper. Nothing can stop the explosions that follow in this wake. A body instinctively bucks and trembles because it no longer has control.

Remember, to be kind.

Tease her first. Use your lips, tongue, and breath.

For Love can ravage.

But whether furious or gentle, I beg you, please, remember.

Once spent and withdrawn. Love leaves only hollowness behind. Sensation formed from absence, where once was fire, here ash remains.

And only some greater mythic love can possibly satisfy.