Maybe he’s an exotic dancer. He must be used to walking around with that monstrosity dangling like that. Stop looking at it.

He’s harmless. Well, he could do some serious harm with that thing between his legs. For the love of all that’s holy, what am I thinking? Gods, it’s big—

There's nothing like love or incumbent death to make you realize how many things you still want to do.

I told you what I want. You under me, on top of me, against the wall, on this table, against the sofa. Maybe even on the bed. Should I continue?

I’m sure I’d remember if we’d met. It doesn’t happen every day to witness perfection on Earth.