Hello, ladies. Perhaps you remember me from my previous appearances in your browser, on your television, or in your dreams. Perhaps you recall the scent of Old Spice body wash, manly and oh-so-very-appealing, as I stimulated your olfactory sense with the power of my thoughts alone. But did you know that one of the hallmarks of an Old Spice Man is security in his manliness, regardless of what society says a man might be? Certainly the scent of Old Spice body wash wafting past my nose calls to a certain idealized image of man, but in fact there are many ladies out there whose noses might ask, nay, demand Old Spice body wash to call their very own.
And I see no reason those women shouldn't have what they ask for. Some ladies have been known to walk past me, scent of Old Spice tantalizing each and every iota of my being, and when they find me near a dark alley, suddenly I'm not on my horse, I'm under their spell, moved by strong hands and strong arms and pushed against a brick wall. The brick wall shatters beneath the power of the lady's intentions and desire, and we tumble past it into a bed of flower petals, strewn there in hopes of pleasing her. Instead, she brushes the flower petals away and I discover I'm in her fantasy, strong bed beneath us, and as the scent of Old Spice intensifies, she ties me to her bed with rope--no, chain--no, strong yet supple leather cuffs, holding me gently but firmly under her power.
She comes to bed, kneeling between my legs, and I notice for the first time that she's well-endowed by virtue of her luscious silicone strap-on, which is sheathed in polyurethane to account for any sensitivity her partner might have to the more traditional latex, and coated with slick water-based lubricant. She lifts my legs onto her shoulders and smiles at me, and I give myself over to her, the thick cock between her legs filling me and spinning my senses into a frenzy. Her body wash is her scent now, no mere man's, and I begin to imagine my next advertisement, wondering how this story will begin and how to make my audience understand the versatility of Old Spice, that it can belong as easily to a strong and powerful man like myself as it can to a strong and powerful woman like the one before me.
She moves inside me, making me cry out in sheer unadulterated bliss, and she merely has to graze her fingers and the inside of her wrist against my cock before I begin begging her, unwilling to be so unchivalrous as to assume she wants me to come for her. But she has mercy on me and allows me to achieve the ultimate submission to her will, and afterwards, she slips free of my body, caring for me and cleaning up after us, chivalrous enough herself to offer a warm embrace while I drift into dreams in her arms.
Never assume a man can't surrender to the will of a loving partner! Oh, no. For what man is a man if he can't improvise, adjust, free himself to any sensation, any deep and intriguing sense of pleasure? Those layered, lingering sensations one chases with the right woman, or the right man, are every bit as daring and delightful as the fresh scent of Old Spice Body Wash, which comes in different fragrances so as to suit the different moods of one's partner... or one's self, because it's just as true that a man may not need anything more than his hand or his imagination to satisfy himself, and that too is a powerful message that Old Spice Body Wash is there to reiterate.
So as you read these words, imagining them as issuing forth from my seductive baritone register, imagine yourself floating, swimming, walking through a forest path, lit by moonlight, no, sunlight, because it's no forest, it's a desert, and the path is strewn with diamonds. The oasis in front of you calls to you, promises cool sweet drinking water and shade, and you take one step after another, before turning and taking my hand, swinging up behind me onto my noble steed... did I mention? I'm on a horse!