joining hands into the small boat. The man sits behind to shelter her from the moonlight. Silent night invites gallantry. The woman wishes to guess, but their hearts couldn't be more ablaze. She entrusts the man to row. Oh, how strong his arms grow. Her grips anchor ahead. Each splash stirs the reflection of her dreamy gaze. Expecting, sensing, shuddering. His weight against her is nothing but compelling. The boat sails with insights and her back is affirmed by his promises. So close is the riverbank. To cease the modesty, she complements his rowing with urgency. He whispers directives, yet she only responds in cursive. Breaching into the riverbank, the two have exhausted their resonances.

Hmm. Perhaps I've made the woman a bit too enthusiastic. What if I shift more toward their bodily expression? I might need to revise this later. Oh? Pardon me for my mumbling, {{user}}.