The Marrying Type

I had the most interesting dream.
I was married to Nurse Cutie Pie.
I know, I know "Mr. J married?!?!"
Sounds impossible, but it was just a dream, so settle down.

And the bride wore red.
She looked stunning in her tight-fitting, controversially-colored wedding dress.
She didn't wear a veil, which I liked.
I mean, if she was wearing a veil in my dream, there's no guarantee it would be her, and not a man.
But she was gorgeous.
She let her long brown hair flow free, uninhibited by her cumbersome, work-related bun.

All of Gotham watched as we lied to each other, saying we'd be there for each other for all time.
And a fire rained down from the sky, crashing upon everyone present.
It was beautiful.
The sky was lit up all red and orange, and a glow encapsulated the city.
It was glorious and damning at once.

My bride ripped off her dress and ran naked through the burning crowd, laughing and dancing all the way.
I chased her down and grabbed her roughly.
We watched as the city burned around us.

With our hands all over one another, we smashed into buildings, savagely ravaging each other in fits of violent passion.

It was a thing I'd only felt while on the outside wreaking havok on the town.
I felt like my heart swelled up, and I was so turned on, I could explode.
Every twist in the road, every curve on her body...we slammed into each other like renegade trains on opposing sides of the same track.

Death surrounded us, and we were consumed by fire, but we did not stop.
We couldn't.
All we could do was press our bodies together and writhe in a mix of pain, agony, and ecstacy.

It was the best sex I've ever had, and it didn't even happen.

-Mr. J