It’s Valentine’s Day. A day for a nice dinner, maybe some flowers and chocolate, and, yes, the sweet activity your parents called “wrestling” when you walked into their bedroom as a child. And look, folks — everyone knows the birthrate in America is plummeting. To help remedy that, and get our readers in the mood on this day of love, here’s some erotic nonfiction from Bryan Johnson, the entrepreneur and venture capitalist conquering death, originally on X. Enjoy, be fruitful, and multiply.

My hand slides under her shirt, tracing the contours of her spine. The slow, deliberate movement ignites her mechanoreceptors, generating a current that speaks safety and pleasure. Microbursts lift the skin into goosebumps. Her hair stands perpendicular, increasing the drag of my fingertips. She asks for more.

My left hand anchors the curve of her waist, pulling her close. My arms establish a perimeter of safety, holding back the world’s chaos. The warmth soothes and excites. Her vagus nerve activates, pulling her breath down deep and slow. For days, we’ve architected this moment in messages. Our imaginations have already lived this. The pent-up energy radiates.