Dirty or not?

I hold her in my arms. One hand grasps lightly around her neck, while the other is resting on the curve of her mid section. When I have her in my arms, I feel relaxed. She is my way to extract myself from the world. I know every inch of her body. I slide my hands up and down her, listening to the noises that come from my fingers finding that perfect position. She is in tune. Each soft exertion sounds different from the first. The lower down my hands travel, the higher the sound that escapes from her “o” shaped opening. Both my hands become in synchronization, and I begin to work up my speed. With each stroke, I begin to cover more ground. I go from using only one finger to four, and my right hand begins following the lead of my left. I continue to strum harder and faster. The more energy I use, the louder she becomes. I know my hands have not missed a spot, because of the beautiful sounds she continues to make. My hands now reach their maximum speed, and the sound she expels shows for it. The sound produced is magnificent, and my arms become weak. I keep the pace for as long as I can, and as I begin to slow, the level of her noise begins to decrease. I finally stop, and begin fingering each string one by one, instead of playing the full chord. My guitar is my way of existence, and my key to nirvana.