I’d Rather Be the Mayfly

There is nothing better than feeling your cool skin against me. The friction of our bodies has yet to cover us in a thin layer of sweat. I have only just climbed on top of you and you have just wrapped your legs around me. Your breasts press into my chest as our lips meet, our tongues greet one another in the space between. This must be what it’s like to be a mayfly, whose life lasts less than twenty-four hours. With so little time, surely you’d try to fit everything into one moment. And to the planets and stars, maybe we look like the mayfly. Eighty years on a timeline that spans eons, and all that matters, all that will ever matter, is how I can smell the shape of your body and I can taste the sound of your voice. The room is pitch dark; my eyes are closed, and yet I see everything. You reach between us and grip my cock with both hands, slowly stroking up and down. I feel it growing as your grip tightens. You guide me to your warm wet lips and rub my head against your clit. Already, I feel your body shaking. I enter you, my long smooth shaft spreading you open. There are only two things I know for sure. Somewhere in the universe a star has gone supernova. And somewhere on earth a mayfly has died. And perhaps we don’t realize it yet, but there is one truth that can learned from both. There is no difference between the star and the mayfly. Twenty-four billion years, or twenty-four hours, they are both the same in the end.

Soon our bodies are covered in a thin layer of sweat. When we cum together, neither of us can be sure if we are dying or living. I know your nails are digging into my back, and my hand is wrapped around your throat. My cock throbs with cum surging up through my shaft, and your body squirms and jolts with each thrust. I guess the question is, does anything live forever? Lobsters seem to be immortal until they end up on someone’s plate. Tape worms and some kinds of jellyfish can regrow and regenerate indefinitely. I’d rather be the mayfly who is born, eats, spends half his life in search of you, makes love and dies as he watches you give birth. In that fragile existence, against all odds, I will find you. I trust that you will find me, too.