"There are some women fine-featured, a certain texture to their hair, a curve to the ears that sweeps like the turn of a shell. These women have fingers with the same sensitivities as their legs, the fingertips have the same feelings as their feet and when we touch their knukcles, it´s like passing your hands around their knees and this tender fleshy part of the fingers is the same as brushing your hands around their thigs, and finally...
Every woman is a mystery to be solved but a woman hides nothing forom a true lover. Her skin collor can tell us how to proceed. A hue like a blush of a rose, pink and pale and she must be coaxed to open her petals with a warmth like a sun. The pale and dappled skin of a redhead call for the lust of a wave crashing to the shore, so we may stirp up what lies beneath and bring the foamy delight of love to the surface. Althought there´s no metaphor that truly describes making love to a woman. The closest is playing a rare musical instrument. I wonder... does a Stradivarius violin feel the same rapture as the violinist when he coaxes a single perfect note from its heart?"

"Every true lover knows that the moment of the greatest satistaction comes when ecstasy is long over and he beholds before him th flower which has blossomed beneath his touch..."

Don Juan DeMarco, Movie.