Tits

The young ones, new at the game
Yank upon me, their inexperience lending itself
to tight, rough grips that leave my smooth skin raw.
I let them, without saying anything.
This is what it is to be handled by most men –
Uncaring, without grace.
Every moment reminded you are secondary.
To their need, their greed, their desire
To milk you for everything.
Some of them are different.
Like the man who tugs at my tits now,
While running his hand along my back,
Taking care to be gentle as he takes
Until I’m not so daunted by knowing I’ll be devoured.
I enjoy him, without saying anything.
Not today. Today, he will know what pleasure his touch brings.
Today, when he sits by me with his hand squeezing me so tender,
I will moan it loud and without abandon. I am going to scream with my every bovine being.
I’m going to say, “Moo!”