Fragmentary disclosures or semi-clothed framings of dick can be a "tease" or a proposal, as gestures, but often a picture will be accepted (or not) on the basis of how much pleasure of view it offers. The 2nd and 3rd portraits offer equal "pleasure of view" despite their fragmentation and diverse selectivity, because they are compatible with the overall projection of the figure. It's in the final frame, I think, where the statement is quite explicit - "Ask for my belovèd dick." But this is because of the posture and expression, not the fragmentation of disclosure; and so one leaps to the suggestion or not, subject to one's view of the figure and one's own disposition. Here, the shorn penis echoes the tints of the lips and the shimmering nipples with a strongly structuring explanation of their meaning, and invokes them in the evaluation of that offer. A pleasing articulation in the urethra, a pronounced linearity in the structure shunt the gaze ineluctably toward the hemispheric wedge which caps the dick in plush but unmistakeable resonance of intent. The gossamer membranes of nipple seem to swirl about the still points in their persistent protrusion, and the lips seem to gain a ripening of warmth despite their risk of parching in their aperture. These factors weigh warmly in the balance of the silken trail to the navel, the stairstep abdominal plateau devolving into the sternum's detent beneath the plated breast, the reciprocating arcs of clavicle bearing epaulettes of vasculated delt, beneath the jaw which poses this suggestion yet again, in case we missed it the first time. Yet always the forearm remains firm in its clasp of the cockroot, the second finger pressed intently to secure the pendant bag, as the tension in the fabric seems to fail more fatally than ever to impede the rise of cock. So this proposal finds internal reinforcement wherever the eye may migrate through the frame, and as the eye adjusts to the brilliance of the alabaster breast, the highlights of its knitting to the bone emerge as droplets echoed in the penetrating eyes. In short, a pillage of the senses has transpired without our notice, by the simplest of means.
Besazos...left
Fragmentary disclosures or semi-clothed framings of dick can be a "tease" or a proposal, as gestures, but often a picture will be accepted (or not) on the basis of how much pleasure of view it offers. The 2nd and 3rd portraits offer equal "pleasure of view" despite their fragmentation and diverse selectivity, because they are compatible with the overall projection of the figure. It's in the final frame, I think, where the statement is quite explicit - "Ask for my belovèd dick." But this is because of the posture and expression, not the fragmentation of disclosure; and so one leaps to the suggestion or not, subject to one's view of the figure and one's own disposition. Here, the shorn penis echoes the tints of the lips and the shimmering nipples with a strongly structuring explanation of their meaning, and invokes them in the evaluation of that offer. A pleasing articulation in the urethra, a pronounced linearity in the structure shunt the gaze ineluctably toward the hemispheric wedge which caps the dick in plush but unmistakeable resonance of intent. The gossamer membranes of nipple seem to swirl about the still points in their persistent protrusion, and the lips seem to gain a ripening of warmth despite their risk of parching in their aperture. These factors weigh warmly in the balance of the silken trail to the navel, the stairstep abdominal plateau devolving into the sternum's detent beneath the plated breast, the reciprocating arcs of clavicle bearing epaulettes of vasculated delt, beneath the jaw which poses this suggestion yet again, in case we missed it the first time. Yet always the forearm remains firm in its clasp of the cockroot, the second finger pressed intently to secure the pendant bag, as the tension in the fabric seems to fail more fatally than ever to impede the rise of cock. So this proposal finds internal reinforcement wherever the eye may migrate through the frame, and as the eye adjusts to the brilliance of the alabaster breast, the highlights of its knitting to the bone emerge as droplets echoed in the penetrating eyes. In short, a pillage of the senses has transpired without our notice, by the simplest of means.
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