The face I see in the wooden board at the end of your bed (the knots in the wood?) is mine.

My eyes look up following your flowing figure, enjoying your silken skin, enchanted by your smiling pussy.  My eyes sparkle at the shimmer of your belly chain and, as they rest on your erect nipples, my body responds.

Now I am the man on your television.  You are the woman who is riding. He plays with your breasts.  Your golden hair rises and falls as you ride.  Entangled bodies suffused with a sensual golden bond.