Of all the reasons people end up fucking, pity sex is the unsung hero. Love gets romanticized, lust gets all the heat, and party-fueled hook-ups are legendary. But pity? That’s where the real filth and charity collide. There’s something deliciously dirty about sliding into someone just because you feel sorry for them. No strings — just a warm, wet favor for a poor soul who’s been aching for it. Imagine: the lonely widow, watching you with hungry eyes, bitter over your happiness — and you give her what she craves, grinding her frustrations into a moaning mess beneath you. Pity sex is pure anatomy-driven mercy, a raw fusion of sympathy and sin. It won’t earn you medals “God, I needed that” at the end? That’s better than any award. It’s not about love — it’s about ego, power, and getting someone off in the most generous way possible.

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