I’d fuck
Albert Einstein for his mind. I imagine we’d be sitting on the
sofa, when he’d get an idea and his eyes would light up. He’d whisper sweet formulas in my ear, making me wet, and then he’d chase me down the hall and into the
kitchen, both of us laughing and horny. With a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he’d grab the
eggbeater and some
olive oil and motion me to follow him. He wouldn’t be
dragging me kicking and screaming – I’d be passionately curious to see what he was up to! We’d head to the
bedroom, where I’d grab
eight towels out of the
closet to cover the bed. I’d marvel at his creativity and his tongue’s dexterity before we fucked each other silly, our bodies covered with oil, while the
rain fell heavily outside. Lightning would light up our lovemaking, and the rolling thunder would sound like applause. As we came together, I’d finally understand how our mass and energy was related, and as I screamed he’d yell out “E = mc
2!!” before we’d collapse in each other’s arms.
Relativity, indeed.
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