Sex is art

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"What did ye find?"

"I find out how I got here," he feels a spark on the end of his member, "an' some pink-haired lad who gave me dust."

"He gave you dust?"

Sad Boy nods and whispers back into her ear. "Magic dust. It made me have t' most incredibly terrifying dream ever."

"Oh?"

"I ripped t' fabric o' space an' time itself. Went flyin' through t' cosmos. Ended up in a tunnel, crawlin' toward t' light."

"That sounds class."

"Aye, I know," he adds, planting his lips onto her cheeks, "I need ta find him so I can get high again."

"If it's meant to be, ye'll find him again. If it's not, ye won't." She kisses him back. "Sometimes things happen for a reason, sometimes they stay and sometimes they don't."

"T' circle o' life."

"Aye."

"Some friends stay fer a season, some more, some less." He can feel a thumping pulse pass through his slowly-erecting penis.

She can sense the rush soaring through her veins. The chemicals are hitting them both harder than a freight train in mid-collision.

Reaching her hands down his happy trail, she teases him a little. He can hardly contain himself.

Loosening his shorts and boxers, he lets his bulge roam freely. Unbuttoning his shirt frees his exploding chest. Sticking in a pool of his own sweat, the motions are backflipping from him.

Synthetically pumped up like a stag in heat, he tears off her vest-top, along with her cute, pink bra. It's been a while since he's seen a set of breasts like hers.

Soft, firm and just the right size, he squeezes on one. She lets out a groan. Doesn't care who's watching.

"I think we should take this upstairs." He suggests. She nods. "Thanks."

Grabbing their clothes, the duo shove their way through the crowds and bolt up the stairs into an open bedroom.

Sad Boy moves the free-standing unit across the door to bolt it shut and plops himself onto the bed. Elle follows.

They both strip and fire their clothes onto the floor. Leaning in close once again, they warm each other's exposed flesh.

Electric touches create sparks in each others nerve endings as the excitement begins to reach a climax.

"We got a bit carried away there, didn't we?"

He nods with excitement. "We can do whatever we want here."

"The bed is our canvas."

"Sex is our art."

She sits on top of him, ready for the first round, tracing the letters of the tattoo on his right pec. "Yes it is, Lee."

"So now I'm Lee?"

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