Suddenly I felt a little cerebral congestion. That face of his is so... So... Too much.
It was as if an ink painting was moving in front of my eyes. His muscles were as white as snow, his eyebrows were like a painting, his lips were like greased lips, and his cheeks were like peach petals, and his eyes were like eyes. These adjectives used on such a boy did not damage his masculinity at all, but made his handsome body and neat movements more pleasing to the eye.
Looking closer, I finally understood the mood of those nymphomaniacs.