"I don't usually do this", she moaned.
"I know you don't", I lied.
There was a certain gravity to the situation. Her warmth pulled my hand into orbit. I always wondered what Newton meant by apple bobbing. It's all become ridiculously clear now. The world was his his own body, the apple was his forbidden fruit and the pull of the earth was his desire. I'd spank her with my 9th grade science textbook if I wasn't worried about scaring her off.
I ignored our awkward incompatibility and pushed forward with my predictable pursuit of pleasure. She may not be mine tomorrow, but tonight, I possess her. As my lips press into hers our connection becomes a caloric intake of each others scent. We meld, she becomes mine. I, hers. We are enveloped in a cloud of hazy smoke as the world melts away and our lives and legs intermingle in a delicious moment of insanity.