He never had a woman. She never had a real man.
They were gay and miserable, perpetually suicidal, living in sin, and shame, lost souls wandering this cruel world.
They liked each other; they liked to be close.
Then one night on a secluded field, against a backdrop of towering flames and horrific wails, they kissed for the first time.
It was magical.
Nothing could have torn them apart.
She took off his clothes rambunctiously, and he took off hers. The sight of her rolls of fat disturbed him but he didn’t let it show. He was a gentleman.
But he couldn’t get hard, though he wanted to. Futilely he jacked off his limp dick for minutes, until his cheeks turned red.
She threw herself on the ground, spread her legs and signaled to him to dive in.
He gulped; then stooped nervously.
Her cunt stank like a dead gorilla – he passed out from a single whiff!
When he regained consciousness three days later she was sitting next to him on the hospital bed. She brought him cookies and flowers.
He couldn’t remember a thing; for a moment he thought that he might have been poisoned.
He was in love. For the first time, he was truly in love – and so was she.
They found love in a hopeless place.