Last Tuesday, again. I suppose Wednesday morning.

I can name a dozen people who told me not to. I did anyways, vainly hoping to gain some power from the experience.

Fuck.
It's 5 am. I've slept in his bed that's missing a sheet, just a fitted sheet and a comforter. This is how I usually sleep at home, but it makes me uncomfortable here. The fabric is thicker, like upholstery, with thick leaves embossed in the mustard fabric. It's hideous.

I start rubbing his shoulders. He's awake. I never know if I'm good at this. In choir, I can rate any of the half-dozen singers that stand by me. The shy freshman has huge hands but never goes below my shoulders. The boyish tenor is probably my favorite. The most charming boy digs his thumbs in between my joints. Sometimes I can feel his knuckles pop apart my spine. Sometimes I feel giant when he grabs the flesh between my underwear and tights. The girls are never that good, too soft and focused on one area. My hands easily dwarf theirs. I wonder if I feel the same.

Regardless, I'm getting quite a different response than in choir, for I never end up naked in choir. Couch-comforter is off, and I remember these are the leggings with the holes in the crotch.

I'm trying what's comfortable for me, but he moves me aside. Doggy style.
Ok. I hate this. Last time's problem, not an issue 30 seconds ago, is back. I have absolutely no interest in this anymore. He lubes up and pushes me down. I pretend to like this. Power play has turned, it always has. I don't know why I expect anything else of this. We're both frustrated. He thrusts. Misses his intended target, but the arrow hits his neighbor's bullseye. Or in this case-

He takes my cry to mean pleasure. It's anything but.
Get off. Please.
He pulls out. I'm suddenly embarassed, making excuses. It's just, the only other times, I mean, he had a tiny dick-
I was trying for vaginal.
Yea, well.

We continue, with no success. He wants nothing to do with me, despite some half-assed efforts. I give up, dress in a hurry, nudge his shoulder goodbye, leave my bra on the floor. I realize this as I step outside, but don't want to go back in there. This is the first time I've left, protesting for change of any kind, knowing it's going to happen.