I can't understand why."I smiled and reached over to gently stroke her arm. "We've discussed this before, that what we've been doing is 'making love'....There's a difference between making love and fucking. Farm animals fuck because there is no love between them. With humans, if both partners do things with love and consideration for the other partner, it's not fucking, it's making love." I paused and looked at her and saw that she'd understood what I'd just said."The first night, I did things. He fucks rapidly, in a disorganised way, slobbering, grunting piggishly. I am used as a masturbatory object rather than a woman. I am sobbing weakly with pain. Oh those throbbing weals! He is not concerned with that. His piggish grunts come faster, his hairy paunch pounds and pounds against my poor buttocks. Then, groaning as if in pain, he unleashes himself before collapsing down on me, half crushing me. It seems only a matter of moments before I hear him snoring. Oh how I detest this vile. More

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