The need...

So ...
this beautiful woman, with whom i have the distinct honor of being intimate, watches a romantic movie while I'm reading back issues of penny-arcade. Later, while I'm drifting softly throught that magical space between sleep and wakefulness where dreams are lucid and life is what I want it to be; my wife is, shall we say, looking to the naughty bits.

(dreams filled with gabe kissing spider man, tycho pondering horseys, pokemon phone-sex, and fruit-fucker ... well... ya know - fucking fruit ... as it turns out)

While I must admit I was a reluctant participant in the ensuing carnal gratification, I was not unwilling. I understand, therefore, that the word "rape" is inappropriate in this context. It would indeed be demeaning to the suffering of the true victims of this heanous crime to even hint at the word, which has been hallowed by the fear, pain, and ruin of it's sufferers.

I will simply say, therefore, that I have been done serious and lasting physcial harm by my wife's aggresive and intense ... need. To whit - I cannot walk. No, seriousely - she hurt me and I'm writing this from my bed of convalescence because I CAN'T FUCKING WALK ...

So...