Twin Towers

She was tall, but he had her covered. This was the first time in a long time that she had a relationship with a man taller than her and she was delighted. So was he. He didn’t want to be one of those guys whose girlfriend towered over him. He wasn’t as secure as Tom Cruise.

To say her face was that of an angel would be cliché’, more so of a seductive temptress, Cleopatra if you will. To describe her breasts would be to witness a miracle within a natural disaster. A hurricane, an earthquake and fire from the sky destroy California while a virgin gives birth to quintuplets under the Hollywood sign while every radio station on the west coast plays Slayer’s “Raining Blood” simultaneously.

Her legs were long, but what was more peculiar was the length of her torso. It went on forever. It seemed like he was going down a slide backwards on his stomach at recess, except he wasn’t going to land on some foam pad at the bottom. The bottom was bliss. It was uncharted territory, his own personal Louisiana Purchase.

"Hi-yo Silver, away!”