The Night They Say Was Made For Love

This is a love story.

One night two lovers met at a predetermined time that fit into their schedules. They were both excited by the fact that they had several hours free and could spend time with each other before returning to the grueling task of completing a Master's Thesis (Him) and trying to finish an article by the next day (Her).

This night was going to be very special for, you see, He had agreed to participate in a study for Herbal Viagra and had received his sample that very day...(He would like it to be known that He didn't really need the Herbal Viagra, He is perfectly fine with getting it up and keeping it there, He was really just helping out the company, you know, by being a good citizen). That evening She and He took showers and shaved, She even went above her knees this time, that's how excited she was, and then they both went to the bedroom to begin a night filled with passion and extraordinary staying power (again, He wants you to know he has no problem in this department) .

He laid her gently on top of the futon, overcome with love for his beautiful and slightly padded girlfriend. The moonlight reflected off her raven hair streaked with a lovely shade of gray, He stared deeply into her eyes and thought, "You know, she really should dye her hair tomorrow".

She watched him as he walked over to the desk and opened up the bottle of Happy Pills. The idea that sex might take more than six minutes really perked Her up. The prospect that she might even finish tonight brought Her much joy. As He swallowed the pills She felt a familiar stirring in her nether region, it was the way she felt every time she smelled warm fudge. "Oh", She thought, " this is going to be good."

He came to her, filled with a ravenous appetite for love. He could feel the pills inch their way down to his stomach, his (Extremely Large) penis trembling in anticipation for insertion. He began caressing Her in the way He knew She liked. He wondered how long he would have to keep up the foreplay before ramming her...he was always unclear on the timing but figured thirty seconds would be enough. As he touched her large, round, supple breasts he began to feel light headed. Then, he saw spots. He even tried to ignore it when he could no longer see from the stabbing pain in his head, but when the stomach cramps started he could no longer feign arousal. As he fell off the futon and began crawling toward the bathroom he had one fleeting thought before his bowls released covering him in his own filth, "Is this supposed to happen?"

She watched him as he crawled away, worried that He would get shit all over the carpet. As he closed the bathroom door She began to tear up. She had shaved for nothing. She could hear his whimpering and the occasional flatulence coming from the bathroom and decided she should probably go and make sure he was okay. Walking toward the bathroom she wondered why this always happened to her, well, not this, exactly, but the whole sex-gone-wrong thing. For a second she wondered if she should become a lesbian.

His pain was exquisite. He had never known that he could simultaneously barf, crap his pants, and leak snot from his eyes all at the same time. "I will definitely be filling out my comment card." He thought before passing out on the bathroom floor.

Several hours had come and gone since their night of passion began. She finished her article for work and then surfed the web for shoes before stripping off her lingerie and going to bed. She heard the toilet flush and then the shower turn on. So, She thought, he must still be alive.

He was empty now. No fluid left. He now knew what it was like to be close to death. Even his hypochondria was sated by the experience. He let the hot water of the shower run over his body, cleaning him of filth and bile. As he picked up a bar of soap he felt a strange stirring coming from what was once a sad, flaccid, dong of shame. Looking down he watched his man meat become unstuck from his thigh and rise up mightily like the sword of God. It pulsed and vibrated, the veins thickening in the shaft like the well-muscled arm of a weight lifter (not that He ever thought of other men that way...no, seriously, he never did). "Now you're working!?" He thought before he became dizzy from the blood being pulled from his brain to his member.

She heard the bathroom door open and close. She heard the sound of her love walking over to the bed. She felt the weight of his body as he crawled in next to her. Then she felt a large probe stab into the small of her back. A sense of excitement filled her...then she heard him moan, and not in a good way.

He didn't understand what was going on. First he was hemorrhaging waste from his orifices for three hours and now, now that he was harder than he had ever been in his life, he was suffering from motion sickness. The pain from his engorged beef stick was becoming unbearable. He was going to have to have sex or his penis would blow up. But how could he since the thought of moving a millimeter made him want to puke.

"Could you maybe, blow me?" He asked Her meekly.

She turned toward him, loathing spilling from the dark pools of her eyes. She wanted to punch him in the nose but one look into his tortured face softened her resolve. "How about I get on top and just screw you instead." She said with compassion.

"Thank you...thank you", he muttered before dry heaving a bit.

And there, in the light of the moon, began the saddest episode of sex that anyone, at any time, had ever experienced.

After it was over and they lay side by side,they both pondered the evening and what it meant to their relationship. He thought he should probably buy her something nice to make up for the sex and she, well, she realized she was probably going to get a yeast infection from his Herbal spunk.

Then they both drifted off to sleep.

The End.