Jonathan Miller...
"You want to leave me a carcass of a man, broken, hollowed of brain and soul, left with merely a throbbing prick like a mindless goat? Have mercy, I plead, to you baby girl. Let my famished mouth feast upon your sweet, sweet flesh. I am awash in longing mettle.”
She stared up at me as I pulled her to the chair and she sat there in her conservative nightgown and would have laughed except for the fact that I did look half-maddened, my eyes glaring, my brow gleaming, my fine nostrils flared, my mouth in a stern line. Gone were the flippant smiles, the indolent gestures, and the graceful laziness.
I knelt before her, still in my boxer shorts and that of a white shirt, my muscles taut, my every nerve seemingly on edge. Dangerous. Was this what I was like? Underneath it all
