We step outside and even though you were only one option out of many, I chose you. You were perfect for a seven minute fling.
Your milky white skin burns instantly to my fiery touch. At first, you play rough. Your breath scalds my lungs with the promise of a shorter life. But as you ease into a pattern, you begin to mellow me out.
Now we are halfway through and your tan lips are starting to soften at the thought of this fling coming to an end. As the seconds whine forward, you send me one last shock of ecstasy, and then in a puff of smoke, you leave forever, with me wishing that you would come back.
They say a seven minute fling will take seven minutes off your life. I sit and ponder this but still I hunger for more. And although there are millions of you out there just waiting for their own chance at a seven minute fling, the time you have given me is as good as it ever will be.