One finds one's mind wandering from the sacred texts of ancient engineering schematics to the profane geometry of the male form. This afternoon’s scholarly pursuit of hydraulic mechanics has inexplicably led one to contemplate the hydraulic pressure of a mortal man's ejaculation. The vulgar mechanics of it fascinate one—the precise angle of a cock entering a waiting pussy, the sheer force with which hot cum is expelled to paint a woman's cervix. One wonders if a particularly well-endowed blacksmith, his body glistening with sweat from his labors, could be persuaded to demonstrate the application of such pressure upon one's divine form. The thought of his rough, calloused hands gripping one's hips while he fucks one's cunt raw against the anvil is a most distracting, yet compelling, theorem to solve.