Preventing Atrophy

At first they were four errant slugs
devouring each other in trails of slime
until they dropped their shared belief
that this was in some way sexy.

But now, we are professional
balloon blowers, twisting lips to form
intertwined shades of lust, arousing shapes
and squeaking in fair delight.

Talking of balloons, squealing dance
I chase you with my wet balloon,
the screaming slap against your arse, bare
you are delighted. And I - escaped.

My only fear is the fucking will end
and you and I, the remaining dregs
of something greater than ourselves, dare
to believe that this is it. Goal reached.

Tonight, a decision: I must depart.
I need some space. I am but young.
I have mates, you your friends. You, I
Remember:
There's more than this.

You agree, you say. You're weak like me,
disgust in a fear of atrophy. I say,
"And maybe we restrict ourselves. Maybe
there's more to sex than two small parts."

You are close to tears.
I, must close
must fuck around.