Fuck me. Please fuck me, take this body of mine right down into the deep with you, pull me under the earth, drag me under the sea; pinion my arms, put your mouth over mine and pull me under these heavy waves I’m feeling, drown me.
And also, as he watched the boxer on television, Boy began to think that there are two kinds of sex: the kind of sex where you say do this, do that, or you manoeuvre yourself into position for a particular kind of pleasure; and then there is the other kind of sex, where you want to say, do anything. Do anything you want to me, you can do anything you want, I give you entire permission over me. This feeling and especially these words cannot actually be spoken, because the words are too shaming; but for the men I know and for myself certainly I know it usually comes out as fuck me, please fuck me. . .
This is all so hard to tell someone, so you try to do it with your body. When you see a man bury his face in his pillow, he is doing it to avoid saying all this; to escape from the words he hears himself wanting to say, to silence himself, because he knows your face is just six inches away from his but still he cannot look at you or say what he means.
NEIL BARTLETT, Couple
