Making Love with an Open Tumor in my Breast

Making love with the man I am attracted to and enjoy living with can be complicated with an open, festering wound on my chest. Some anxiety arises before he enters the room. Will he be able to smell what I can smell? If so, will he be brave enough to tell me?I make sure I'm straight out of the shower, scrubbed and clean. Wife beater over a bra over the bandage with raw coconut cream to keep the wound moist.I can easily feel it's just not worth it. How much more relaxing it would be to simply live alone, not have to worry about the odors and sight of this breast mess. To be able to wander around the house naked without making sure I am covered up and fine about it, to be un selfconscious of the physical deformity that is so visible when I am naked.And the bandage and bra and the wife beater...they press against the tumor and at times, pain shoots back up from within the breast. It would be so much better to release the area from all the cover up.But then, we start kissing, and his thick healthy head of hair falls into his blue eyes, and his smile dimples his cheek, and we kiss. He lies back so relaxed. He lies back as though he's giving himself to me. I stare at his face, so restful, his lids closed, his sweet brows arched over them.I run my hand up underneath his tee shirt and feel his smooth satin skin. His bellybutton hides under a charming fold of fat, I caress it and softly let him know how sweet he is to me.He keeps his shorts and shirt on because he feels vulnerable without them. He even sleeps in them. Do you realize, does he realize, I have only slept with his naked body twice in the past year? It was hard at first, because the most beautiful aspect of sleeping with a lover is feeling their skin, the hair on his legs, his wide shoulders, the spinal link.Something bad happened a long time ago, when he was a kid. I can't fix it and he says he's fine with it.So then, we move on and we're interlocked and I feel him and give myself over, and he takes some time to feel us and feel his torso throbbing, until he liquidates into me and when we are finished we're breathing hard and laying back and the candle light comes into full focus, the coyotes are howling beyond the window, it's Arizona, and the soul music continues on the portable stereo.I'm smiling, the tears of an hour earlier have disappeared, our fingertips brush against each other, and I'm done with the merging. I'm into Vanity Fair now, this month they've recorded all the dead celebrities and I read it crazily, wanting to know them, their lives, and why it all ended the way they particularly ended.