“Shoot,” I say because I’m enjoying this conversation, or at least Harry’s approach to my asexuality. He’s not accusatory, dismissive, or demeaning, simply curious.
“You say you’ve wanked in the past . . .” He waits for me to nod before continuing, though I do it with squinted eyes and a furrowed brow. “What . . . gets you in the zone for that? I shouldn’t be asking this, but like . . . what makes Orlando’s juices flow?”
“Ooh! He went there!” I say.
Harry jumps to his feet and erupts into laughter. “Shit, I’m sorry. That was fucking forward. Don’t answer.”
“No, wait, I want to tell you.” Fuck, did I just say that? “Not everything because . . .”
Harry sits back on the bench, but this time he straddles it and faces me.
“You go first,” I say, like the absolute coward I am. “Tell me what you like, what thoughts you beat your meat to.”
He laughs once, and his face falls into a more serious expression. “Okay, but don’t judge me—”
“I mean, I will. Judging’s kinda my jam,” I say, interrupting him.
“Fair play.” A small smile ticks one corner of his mouth, and I mirror his bench-seated position, swinging my leg over and stretching it out under the table. “I hate to tell you this, but I’m really fucking vanilla.”
I feign shock. “I don’t believe it.”
“Fuck off.” Harry pushes my arm. “I have tried a few different kinks with old girlfriends, but . . . yeah, I don’t think any of them are for me. Not like the super kinky ones, you know? I don’t like pain, I don’t like being tied up, didn’t fucking know what to do when she was tied up.” He looks off to the play area again, but it’s deserted now. “I just like normal stuff . . . Fuck, why is this so embarrassing to say out loud? I really like . . .” He drops his voice to barely a whisper. “The thought of . . . coming inside someone.”
“Well, cream pies are pretty hot,” I say, hoping to ease his embarrassment.
“And . . . I don’t know. I guess I just like the idea of . . . No, I can’t say. It’s shameful.”
I place my hand on his. “Piss? Scat? Bukkake?”
“No, much worse. Okay, fine, I like the idea of making love.” He hides his face, and my insides do a weird little somersault. “Fuck, you cannot tell anyone that. It’s so cheesy.”
I’m not sure when sex with feelings became so taboo for our generation.
“I won’t tell anyone.”
Mostly because I crave the same thing too. Though it’s a little different when you can’t take much physical enjoyment from the activity.
It also explains why he’s overly preoccupied with this guy from his mum’s workplace. I wonder if he’s in love with him, or with the idea of an imagined relationship with him. Or even just what he represents to Harry’s sexual awakening.
“Your turn now. Tell me what depravity lurks in the depths of Orlando’s mind.”
I laugh. “Prepare yourself. What I’m about to tell you will make you question the integrity of humanity as a species.”
Harry rubs his hands together like a praying mantis.
“Basically, bedroom-wise, I enjoy expending as little energy as possible. You’re laughing, but I’m genuinely fond of activities that require me to just lie there.”
“Okay, but I already know that you don’t get off to that,” he says, and I shake my head. “So . . . why do it?”
“That, my friend, is a discussion for another day.”
Harry nods. I haven’t upset him with my dismissal. “Is there anything you do get off to?”
I’m smiling, and I have no idea why. Most guys couldn’t find a fuck to give about what I enjoy. I don’t know if Harry’s just different, if in the moment, he’d have the patience for me, but at least he’s asking the questions.
“It takes a lot for me to get to that point. That’s not to say I’ve never been at that point before, but it’s rare. A lot of guys will skip right past the stuff I want because all they care about is fucking. Or sucking.”
“So? What is it?”
