I am the painter, and you – my blank canvas; made from the finest fibers- you’re so smooth in texture and so tightly stretched around my wooden frame. Naturally a masterpiece, you’re fit to bear nothing less than my greatest creation. As I look at you, naked and innocently begging to be touched, I’m losing my mind at the infinite possibilities of what I may to do you, how I may do it, how precious you will feel, and the story that, together we will tell. The world of opportunities you present me with is boundless, and my twisted mind takes my visions for you in all directions.
As your artist, you must know how much I cherish every element of your elegant structure. I need to use you, and in doing so make you my own. For you are the only means in which I can express myself and release the bursting bottle that contains my emotions— I am reaching my boiling point. My body feels warm inside and is buzzing. Excitement. Anger, Lust, Vice, Love, Rage; Chaos. I can only resolve these explosive emotions, through transferring them onto and into you. Only you. Only you can conjure them within me, and only you are fit to receive my gift.