At the Museum of Sex, you are allowed to enter heaven for just two minutes and three dollars.

Heaven, in this case, is an adults-only, X-rated bouncy house, decorated with a diverse collection of inflatable boobs. Named “Jump for Joy,” this uncensored attraction will most definitely leave you with a feeling of joy, from both the forced cardio and from, you know, the boobs.

The work of art was originally created for Bompas & Parr’s Museum of Sex installation entitled “Funland: Pleasures & Perils of the Erotic Fairground” in 2014, but it remains up and bouncing today. It combines reckless abandon (comparable to childhood memories at the fair) with the less-acknowledged sexuality and pleasure lying deep in the shadows of the fairgrounds. The Museum of Sex turns up the sexuality while still staying true to the playful nature of fairgrounds. “Jump for Joy,” the last piece of Bompas & Parr’s exhibit remaining, keeps the whimsical mentality of the fairground alive in both the Museum of Sex and the isle of Manhattan.

“Jump for Joy” channels the duality of adolescence and sexuality. It is both an innocent bouncy castle and something straight out of a strange wet dream. It is silly as well as sensual. A room full of giant tatas that you can literally bounce on? The Museum of Sex truly brought to life the dreams of every teenage boy and lesbian (yours truly) and for that, we are grateful. “Jump for Joy” captures all the imagination of a carnival within a modern highrise nestled just off of Fifth Avenue, giving all busy Manhattanites the chance to drop their briefcases and coffee cups and live a little. It is a place where adults can be children, wild and free. So, with my girlfriend in one hand and a disposable camera in the other, I stepped through the gates (really just a hole in the bouncy house) into heaven. Those glorious two minutes went like this:

Areolas everywhere. On the walls, on the floor, some big, some small — boobs of all shapes, sizes and colors spanned the bouncy castle of my dreams. I bounced into bosoms, on top of love apples and off massive mammaries as Kriss Kross’s “Jump” blasted in the background.

It was hard not to smile. Maybe it was from the utter silliness of it all. I was jumping like a little kid, screaming and laughing as I tumbled about amongst breasts bigger than my whole body. Maybe it was all the endorphins rushing in my brain; jumping for two minutes straight on inflatable gazongas, in my not-so-humble opinion, is a harder workout than any SoulCycle class.

Or maybe it was from the magical power of boobs. Hear me out. Boobs bring people together. Inside that nipple-filled bouncy house for those two short minutes, you are free. You are free to be weird, to be unfiltered. You are free to be the kid you once were, back at the carnival, without a care in the world. The Museum of Sex built a two-minute safe haven for the freaks of the world. Boob-themed bouncy houses have no sexuality, gender, race or religion — just pure, honest, unadulterated fun. Anyone can have tatas, and everyone can love them.

Be warned: in the bouncy house, you will get tired. As our two minutes in heaven came to a close, my legs were quaking from the sudden aerobics. If the presence of voluminous breasts wasn’t enough to entice you, let this be your weekly trip to the treadmill with a little more spice.

My brief time in heaven ended with my girlfriend and I, each flopped on our own bouncy breast, holding hands and smiling cheek to cheek. Our hearts were full and our hooters thoroughly bounced. It’s really fun, you breast believe me.