Julia always had better breasts than me.
They were smoother, perkier, came to rest with ease.
She'd flick her hair. The boys would sit and stare.
She'd toy and coyly lick her lips with care,
never overt, but always spinning sinful dares.
We'd been friends for 12 years, since that day in recess
when we'd agreed that we both hated teachers.
Fated rejects, well, until the boys started to notice.
Soon she was flooded with invites to parties they hosted.
Julia brought me with her to the keggers and raves,
until soon I, too, had boys all begging for lays.
Popularity tints the libido. Pretty by association.
Sipping wine through broken makup.
Splitting time with Joe and Jacob.
We were seniors, handed over the right to party.
I found resentment washes clean with a Sprite-Baccardi.
Julia always had better taste than me.
She found a room so close you could practically taste the beach.
Senior week: waves and weed, shots and cock, beer and bikinis.
Trying to face the week as a straight release of stress,
I instead found myself chasing Steve's caress.
Steve sat behind Vicki in history last semester.
He'd transferred to our school this past September
for some sort of basketball deal. And he'd fast enamored
every girl who'd pass him and squeal over his massive member.
When Vicki introduced us, I knew the game was on,
but my confidence was up from Joe, Jake and Ron.
Steve had this great style, and you don't expect taste from jocks,
but all I wanted from his clothes was to take them off.
Julia always had my bests interests at heart.
She made sure our place and Steve's were inches apart.
Besides, she was banging Kyle, Steve's teammate and roomie,
so it was convenient to do me the favor of leaving us two be.
Steve was tough, though, so I borrowed Julia's sexiest skirt,
combed my hair out long, pouted lips, ready to flirt.
Kyle answered the knock on the door.
"Steve? He's in his room. It might be locked, but I'm sure
he wouldn't mind if you dropped by to give him a visit."
So I walked across the living room, grab the handle and twisted.
Julia always had to be the first in everything we did.
She was on top of Steve, tits out and swinging. BITCH!
I stormed out. Stormed down the stairs. Stormed through the lobby.
Ripping every shred of clothing she'd ever lent me off my body.
I stormed out past the boardwalk, past the staring bitches and bros.
At one point, saw Vicki. She tried to give me some clothes.
But I needed to be clean. I needed release. That's what this week was for.
Julia chasing after me, as though I'd ever forgive this cheating whore.
Julia never let me down.
Julia didn't mean to let me drown.
|