gold rush

This is his mouth on my breast. Like a nursing child, he won’t let go. This is him smiling peacefully like a child, and before returning to his dedicated task at hand, this is him asking if I ever thought about piercing them.

That’s what Danny used to ask me every time I took my clothes off for him. He would pinch my nipples, chuckle, and say, “why haven’t you pierced them yet?”

When I took my clothes off for Danny it was always in a rush. Vulnerable is letting someone watch you undress, not the actual state of nakedness. Vulnerable is letting someone see the order in which you remove your clothes.

My breasts fall out to the sides, heavy and dropping. I hate the way the skin around my areola looks in the light. Every man who has known my body has loved and coveted my breasts like they were buried treasure. As though my lace bra unlatching could be equated to the opening of a chest full of coins. My nipples are hunks of fools gold.

This is his teeth grating against my sore and sensitive skin, I can feel my heart breaking.  And this is me four years earlier, in the same room, beneath the same open window. This is me sucking off his brother as the sun rose, he calls me by someone else’s name. I ignore the battle between come and coke drip that happens at the back of my throat. I masturbate when the moon disappears.

I will know what it’s like to fuck two brothers, what it’s like to watch them both struggle to last. They will never know of one another’s exploration of my body, and they will never know how they both made me scream.

This is my aching cunt and the breaking sky. They are the greatest of lovers.