I cannot deny

his whispering, words; I cannot deny
my loathing of his voice, of his too persistent
fingers, drumming, dum-ditty-dum

strip, he says, and - scowling - I ask why
I should tolerate his sick, perverted lust
his whispering, words; I cannot deny

the way my exposed flesh seems to hum
with anticipation of unsought pleasure
fingers, drumming, dum-ditty-dum

stop, I say, but his kisses make me sigh
my breasts are in my hands, my breath echoes
his whispering, words; I cannot deny

the delicious heat provoked, his questing thumb
possessive, between, within, against my clit
fingers, drumming, dum-ditty-dum

I hate you, I cry, lost in invitation
no matter how I fight, my thoughts become
his whispering, words; I cannot deny
fingers, drumming, dum-ditty-dum