Nancy ran her veiny hands over the chocolate expanse of Art's chest. They rasped across his nipples. Art felt himself harden. Nancy grabbed his erection suddenly, the warm and sour smell of Ensure and vodka on her breath. Art was a bar of iron in her hand, still hot from the foundry forge.
She dug her fingernails between his scrotum and penis, seeking the spermatic cords. Art groaned and groped blindly for her pendulous breasts. Nancy began masturbating furiously with her other hand, the rings and studs her labia clanking dully.
A spotlight swept over them both as the helicopter landed in the distance.
Yup, that's totally what I look like when I take my shirt off.
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