Previously on Passions:
October 26, 2012
from: Filbert B. Kim (email@example.com)
Enough. This has to stop. You wanted to hurt me. You did. It’s over. You won. Please, have some compassion.
The phone was vibrating. It was his mother again. 13 missed calls. Astrid had done something. He couldn’t call his mother back until he had figured out what it was, and could get ahead of it. Maybe not even then. Maybe he would just let the relationship with his mother go.
His gun was in his lap. A Smith & Wesson 40 caliber. Of course it was a Smith & Wesson®. Of course it was A BMW® M™ series, of course he was lounging in the house in Nike® swimming sandals, Calvin Klein® Men’s Boxer Briefs, medium, black. He bought it because it was the same gun the LAPD used, and because he liked the two tone. Guys with guns are the biggest bunch of little girls in the world. The ammo box had a bald eagle rampant with flaming talons raised, ready to tear out the heart of your home invader.
He had spent the night fucking Astrid with the gun in her mouth. It cost him three hundred dollars. He made that before 10AM. She really needed the money. Everyone really needed the money, except him. He told her there wasn’t a bullet in the chamber but there was. He needed it to cum. Twenty years ago it barely took a stiff breeze.
Why the fuck did he have to say something. Why couldn’t he just let it go. You love somebody, they leave you, you pay them money to fuck you while eating your god damn handgun, you have won. There is no need to rub it in with a poorly thought out text message from a stoplight. If he had sent that text before ejaculating he would have forgiven himself, but if your balls are empty you have no excuse for anything. Continue reading