Passion, Love, & Crime

auntie Ethel, my beloved 💜

"so your uncle wants me to spank your ass until you cum like every few months or so?"

"yeah. he was really insistent about the cum thing too you have to do it hard enough that i cum"

And then there's a bit right at the end of the story as the wife and the husband are walking out of court:

Jill turned abruptly. "What is your name? Your real name."

The man's gray eyes flickered. He smiled a little, kind, gentle smile. "I'm afraid you would not be able to pronounce it. The sounds cannot be formed..."

Jill was silent as they walked along, deep in thought. The city lights were coming on all around them. Bright yellow spots in the gloom. "What are you thinking?" the man asked.

"I was thinking perhaps I will still call you Lester," Jill said. "If you don't mind."

"I don't mind," the man said. He put his arm around her, drawing her close to him. He gazed down tenderly as they walked through the thickening darkness, between the yellow candles of light that marked the way. "Anything you wish. Whatever will make you happy."

And I. God. There's something there. A soupcon of monsterfuckery. To tell your partner in a moment of intimacy that yes, you're something so inhuman that the lips you're stealing can't speak your actual name. You're a parasite that not only had the ability to burrow under this man's skin and take over his life, but you were so desperate to escape a dead, dry, blasted planet that you did.

Well, I guess if he's got you this upset he must be on to something, right? Isn't that what they say? Regardless, I'm curious: would you be holding this same energy if Charlie were a woman? Even one you disagree with? Or is there a permissibility to (often brutal) violence against men that you simultaneously refuse to acknowledge while also cheekily playing into?

Just some food for though, "pal".

why this a bop LMAO