All the types of love // Poetry // Compilation #6

Stop

'Are you okay,' he asked, as he fondled my dick.

I'm silent, curled up almost foetal.

Am I okay?

I've tricked myself again

into thinking I'd be okay, that I'd be normal.

That my asexual brain would be okay with it

as he humps my legs and back and thighs,

rubs his hands over my ribs and stomach,

pawing at my dick once again.

Was this ever okay?

I don't move except when his fingers find a kink

in my ticklish armour, involuntary giggles, not

happiness...

I'm still silent.

Finally, I get the courage, I stutter for a long time

though

he stops. I wonder what it would have been like

with someone that wouldn't. How many hours I'd

have to lie there feeling like a doll dressed in Brillo

pads and played with?

I'm starting to feel sick.