She is beautiful. I do not know her, or anything about her, but something basic and simple within my mind has already decided that I want to have sex with her. This is not how I really am, this is not the real me, this is the animal that thought and sense hold at bay.

My eyes slowly trace the line of her forehead, down the side of her face, her soft neck and onto the plateau of her chest where the line plunges between her breasts, out of sight behind the material of a vest top. Unbidden I imagine us naked together, her mouth wrapped around me, smiling up at me with her eyes and then my orgasm splashing onto those perfect breasts as she squeals with delight at its sticky warmth.

My conscious mind wrestles for control. I remember that I have not even said a word to her, that it is my duty as a mature and decent human being to see her as a person, not simply a giver and taker of pleasure. My mind demands of my libido that I control the base, hold in check simple desire, and prize connection; meaning above release.