Simon stared into the plaster. He tried to read the shapes. He tried to make meaning out of the nonsense overhead. But it proved a task to challenging for a mere mortal intellect. The secrets of the universe most likely did not exist in the crags and cliffs of the ceiling.

Not that he had much else to do.

There he lay, betwixt two rolling hills of femininity, sprawled out on the sides and laying lazily against the bedspread. They were far too massive to keep upright. To support themselves under their sheer bulk. Indeed, Lilith’s twin globes were quantum anomalies. For as massive as the two matronly mountains appeared to be, they were, in fact, oh so much heavier. They stretched her tank top to it’s absolute limits, the two spheres of rolling flesh contorting the ink-printed pattern and wearing thin in the middle.

If Simon crawled between them, under the tiny canopy they made from pulled cotton, he might have found a shady pocket of heat to nap in. Warmed by the friction of Lilith’s endowments as they slammed and ground against each other in a display that both defied and defined gravity.

But that would give her grounds to then unite them. To bring the two wrecking balls back to their terrifying whole. The quaking mas of femininity that she held proudly aloft, announcing herself to the world. She was Lilith. She was here. And she wouldn’t care how many glasses she accidentally swept off shelves with a sharp turn.

Of course, in that moment she didn’t care about much at all.

A lazy Sunday. With Simon sitting feebly against her body, which exploded out on all sides of him like a living landmass. Her breasts soared high above him. Her shoulders encompassed the borders of his horizons. In the distance he could see the mile-long expanse of her legs, the ivory flesh bare and shining.

Even the breeze was at her command. Her cool breaths brushed gently against his sides, accompanied by the gradual rise and fall of her chest. As if he were adrift at sea on a warm summer’s day, gently lulled to complacency by the gentle-but-powerful motion of the ocean.

Didn’t matter much what he did. He couldn’t fight the ocean.

“...and so it goes.” He muttered.

“What?” She cracked an eyelid, gazing down over her nose to find the tiny boy still pressed against her collarbone. She loved seeing him here. Watching her breasts absolutely dwarf him.

“...just, y’know. The summ’rs.” He drummed his fingers idly on his chest. “Then the autumn again. And then...then the…”

“Since when did you become a poet?”

“Is’jus’...we do it ahl again.”

“Right.” Lilith laid back against her pillow. It cooled the back of her neck. She let out a long, contented sigh. Simon slowly sank.

“And...then it’ll be the summ’r again.”

“And the autumn. And the winter. And the spring.” She smiled wide and stretched her arms. Simon watched as the two pale structures, equal parts vampiric muscle and sugar-borne fat, rose skyward. “I fail to see your point.”

“...I fail t’find it, if I’m….bein’ truthful wit’ m’self.” He furrowed his brow. “If...it’s al gonna...loop around. And then...one day…”

Simon took a long swallow.

“One day it won’t.”

“Y’know ice cream?”

“...what?”

Lilith peered down once again, letting out another gust of wind as she spoke. “Are you aware of the concept of ice cream?”

“...I...eh.” Simon sat up and cocked his head. “I know...of ice cream. I don’t-”

“So when you get ice cream, you know you won’t have it forever, right?”

Simon blinked.

“You know at the end you won’t have any. So what’s the point of even going?” Lilith gazed into the ceiling.

“....because you get to eat ice cream?” Simon perked a brow.

“Do you like ice cream?”

“I do.”

“Then there you go. Let’s go get some ice cream.”

Simon hardly had time to contemplate the metaphor before she sat up and spilled him into her cleavage.