I fuck like a hurricane! Which is to say nothing of its sudden onset or its volume, only that it takes an entire team of scientists to predict when it will happen.
I fuck like a tornado! In here, we will be safe; but, around us, things will be destroyed by our excess. And I promise, baby, we will not end up in the same place that we started.
There is a reason that I always turn my sex into a joke. It is so that when it does not happen I can pretend that it is not because I am too fat or too lonely or going to die alone. I can pretend it is because you are not ready for this earthquake— for these aftershocks.
—Jared Singer, Love