imagine you and gnomeo are walking down the street at sunset. he stops and looks you deeply in the eyes, grabbing both your hands.
"lift up your sleeves, sweaty," he said with a compassionate grin.
"no," i said with my head bowed down, "i don't want you to see my scars."
"sweaty, your imperfections are what make you perfect to me." he says. he pulls you in for an embracing kiss.
you feel his graceful ceramic fingers graze your cheek, and make their way down your body.
he pulls you close and whispers into your ear, "i think it's about time we go back to the hotel room," he says, pulling away from me.
"why do we have to go back?" you say with a mischievous grin. "we can find a place right now."
he grabs your hand and pulls you into the alley adjacent to the street you were just walking. he grabs both your hands and asks, "is this all right?"
you look around: it's a bit grimy, but it will do. "oh gnomeo," you say, "gnomeo, i need you so bad."
he grabs you and pulls you closer. you feel his ceramic hands graze your sweet spot. you let out a small gasp, letting him come closer. he pushes you against the wall of the alley, and you feel the cool brick of the wall through your shirt.
"gnomeo, i can't wait much longer," you say through gritted teeth.
"you'll just have to wait, sweaty," gnomeo whispers, sending chills down your neck with his gentle, but cold, breath. "i'll do what i want with you. is that okay, baby girl?"
you pull him closer, letting his lips meet yours. you're not sure, but for gnomeo, your only love, you'd do anything. you don't say anything, but you relax your arms as a sign of acceptance.
"that's the spirit, sweaty," he grins. he looks both ways to make sure no one's watching. you feel his cold, icy hands, that you know so well, make their way down your torso, and into your high-waisted american apparel shorts.
you moan as he inserts his two arctic fingers into your hot pocket; your body instantly tenses up. he whispers, "it's okay, baby, just tell me when you've had enough." you nod in response and try to relax your body.
he adds in another chilling finger, and you shiver. it's for gnomeo, you tell yourself. his ceramic fingers felt better than anything you'd ever experienced.
he started pumping his fingers inside you, keeping a steady beat. you moan in response, falling into him. at this response, he increases the speed of his strokes.
"oh, gnomeo," you moan, grabbing his neck. he keeps increasing his speed until a shiver shocks your whole body with pleasure. a moan louder than all the others escapes your lips. it seems to last for hours.
gnomeo puts his hand over your mouth. "shush, they'll hear you," he whispers.
"gnomeo, i can't keep quiet for much longer," you tell him. "can we go back to the hotel now?"
he nods in response. "anything for you, sweaty," he says, grabbing your hands and taking you out of the alley. you quickly button up your shorts and follow his sexy ceramic ass down to the cab he just hailed.
you sit in the dusty old cab, and the lust for gnomeo's manhood grows stronger by the minute. you discreetly put your hand on his thigh, teasing him. now it's my turn to take control.
you look at the cab driver nervously. he hasn't noticed; he is too busy with the new york traffic. you smile down at gnomeo, knowing you can do whatever you please.
you lean into gnomeo, just as the cab reaches its destination and comes to a stop. gnomeo pays like the gentleman he is, and you blush, knowing what will come next in the hotel room.
he leads you up the stairs, never breaking his gaze on you, into the privacy of your room. nothing can separate the two of you now.
he brings you to the large canopy bed. this is the moment, you think to yourself. he pushes you down, making his way on top of you. his chilly, ceramic hands pin yours to the bed.
he kisses you passionately, and guides his lips down your chest. you sit up, and he rips off your tank top, and smiles when he sees you aren't wearing a bra.
"you like that, gnome boy?" you playfully ask.
"i do, sweaty," he replies while pulling off your shorts, seductively biting his bearded lip. he moans at the new uncovered spot of skin he sees.
"flip over," he tells you. you obey immediately. he smacks your bare ass repeatedly, with no remorse.
"mommy, wake up!" he says. "the movie's over!"
you shoot up in confusion. what?
you suddenly wake up and find yourself in your living room, with your six-year-old daughter, as you see the credits of gnomeo and juliet playing.
the end.
