By Paulus Silentiarius, back in the sixth century. (If that translates to Paul Silent, I’m in trouble. . .)
Mouth to mouth joined we lie,
Her naked breasts curved to my fingers,
My fury grazing deep on the silver plain of her throat.
And then, no more.
She denies me her bed.
Half of her body to Love she has given,
Half to Prudence.
I die between.