IT WAS the best of chests, it was the worst of chests, it was the
age of love, it was the age of foolishness, it was a time of hope, it
was the epoch of big cities, it was the epoch of Big Tittys, and now I
was totally enthralled in a most magnificent way.
Her chest wasn’t meant to call attention to itself, but it certainly
did. I have never been the type of guy to go gaga over some lady’s
build, but I had taken the right amount of time to find out she was a
good woman. Now I was planning to
take the hill - both of them!
It was the best of chests to me for several reasons. The nicest lady
owned the lovely hills. I’m a big guy, so a well-stacked woman has
several enticing dimensions, if she might be willing. It was the worst
of chests because it was still her private property. I hadn’t been
invited in -
yet. This little cutie liked to laugh, though, so I liked my chances this time.
To describe the curves of her breasts is to define sublime infinity.
They were soft and sweet smelling, like a windy spring day. The tiptops
peeped at you like two tiny raisins. It seemed like a wonderful place
to lose yourself forever, or at least for a lazy, delicious afternoon.
I previously fantasized about my sharecropping there or homesteading
some, but for now I just needed to get closer to those luscious
darlings, really!
As any decent tactician will tell you, over and over: Terrain
dictates
strategy! With this in mind, I chose a quick size comparison and my
best smile. I was seated at our first encounter, which afforded an
eye-level view. Flashing my best grin, I stood to expose the fact she
was only eye-level to my chest. She smiled back and both our chests
heaved! Throwing any poorly placed timidity to the wicked wind, I
thought: Carpe Diem and requested her attendance for a beverage de jour
avec moi se soir.
She: “I like your Red Shoes!”
Moi: “Enchanted, Mademoiselle, Size 13!”
She: “
Oh My!” I thought: Finally all those French classes in high school are paying off.
I met her twice before, asking her back to my place. My place isn’t
much, but it’s homey. When she came by, she asked if I would mind if
she took off her coat and sweater. It was like getting a free ticket to
The Indy 500!
“Why sure,
make yourself at home!”
Soon, with some Beethoven playing softly in the background, and some
beverage de jour, we settled down to look tenderly at each other. I was
just about to climb Mount Surabachi!
The final payoff was a real treat. Size doesn’t matter to me, just as long as it fits in my hands. They did!
As Mr. Zappa said: “ More than a mouthful is wasted!” Supple here, hard
there. Nibble here, bite there. Moans were intermingled. After a
suitable amount of time had passed, each asked questions, each
requested approval, and each was sought and given and received a
rating. Later, I realized that her breasts hadn’t really been the best
of it; the best of it was her smile. I bet one of those lovely breasts
that I could get tickets to her favorite concert. Later, I became
co-owner of one of the lovely bosoms and have decided to homestead the
other. The lady and I share an ownership society now!
Long live beautiful breasts! It is the best of worlds. It was a tale of two nice tittys!
Tags:
humor titties comedy comedian funny 
