The King Is A Terrible Lay (or the summer my self-loathing took over my sex-drive)

A question posed itself in the black of your room “What do I do that gets you off?” The awful truth.. You don’t. I do. We've been together less than an hour and Behold, the venomous words already spreading over my tongue but bitten back Because I’m cruel, But that’s something I would never say to you

The next night, I decide to show you something special, a gift something new. I’m going to show you pleasure because for all the ten years of sex you’ve had I don’t think you know what it is so Stop Stand there Sit, if you must but don’t touch Just watch Listen and learn For once since I’ve met you Just pay attention For once since we’ve hooked up I need you to just listen No Hands to yourself By your sides On your knees Not on me No You’re not used to hearing that word I know I can see it in your face and the way you’re shuffling—and pouting Stop—I’m not asking for much I just need you to watch Watch my hands, my body See the way the muscles contract? Are you hearing the way breathing is coming a bit fast? For once, look at my face not the pillow underneath my head For someone so concerned about getting me off You need to learn something about pace, rough and fast isn't always my taste I don’t understand why you treat this as a race You’re using me to pass the time, right? So don’t waste mine. Oh my god I’m falling out of the plateau stage now and can you see the flush of blood under the skin? the lips? see how I can cum without moving my fingers in?

silence silence cut by breathing. mine. because yours hasn't changed. silence

a kiss to the thigh and

“You’re kinda pretty.”

….and do you know that’s the first and only compliment you ever gave me? I feel anger warm my heated skin and I’d leave you if my lover still wanted me because you enjoyed the show but took from it nothing

I hear clothes brush against skin and they hit the floor but I can’t hear anything save my blood rushing and I feel nothing when the touch of latex is pressed to my entrance It’s like the script of a play “HIS kisses are always short and HIS hands go to the pillow under HER head” not my skin, because you don’t touch me it’s the usual way and I kind of want to hit you because in truth I hate me when I am with you and I’d be lying if I said that didn’t get me off too