Fire in My Loins (A humorous love note)
Hidden in the rolling green hills of Kentucky is a small house, fenced in on all sides by the grazing pastures and room for horses. The door to this house stands ajar, standing open a few inches. This opening allowed a curious fly to enter the premise and survey the scene. While obvious to any human who has been apart from the love of their life for a significant period of time, the trail of clothes leading up to a shut door provided no implications to the fly. It perched upon a custom-made brassiere, 26HHH. It was satisfied for a time but quickly became distracted with a scent from behind the door.
Now, a wise human would hesitate to open the door and bear witness to the vigorous passions for fear of bringing them to a halt. The human voyeur would merely open it a crack whilst gazing inside. A fly has not such qualms and simply flew under the door to investigate a potential source of food. If it had the capacity for emotions, the fly may have been disappointed that there were no dead things to eat here. In fact, the opposite of death was occurring in place, the mating ritual of life.
"Oh Bertram," She cried out betwixt gasps of pleasure, "You mustn't stop, please do not stop!"
"Charlotte, you are the fire in my loins! I couldn't stop now even if your father's guards found us." Bertram replied while gripping her glistening breast, feet firmly planted despite the sweat drops that fell from each thrust. The fly was interested in the small pool that had formed beneath Bertram and was occupied for a time.
