Wednesday's Three Word Wednesday
The words over at Three Word Wednesday are fondle, kick and sumptuous.
Breasts
I wake from a strange and unsettling dream to discover I have breasts.
Sumptuous, womanly breasts. It’s my pale skin alright, but rising from my narrow chest are two perfectly round, perfectly beautiful titties. Firm, perky with dark aureoles and nipples like pencil erasers.
Slowly, I run a tentative hand across the nipples, then employ both hands to cup my new jahoobies. The curve of the flesh is a revelation. These knockers have heft and their warmth feels wonderful in my hands.
And thus I find no self-control; I can’t stop fondling myself.
Mother calls up the stairs and breaks my concentration.
I pull on a bulky hoody to hide my new boobs, squeezing my fleshly funbags a few more times for good measure, and rumble down the stairs.
At the breakfast table, mother wears a horrified mask of disgust. Dad has been blessed with endowments of his own, and he’s got his hooters sticking out of his unbuttoned work shirt.
“Ain’t this a kick?” dad says, running his calloused hands over the creamy white skin of his own wondrous rack.
Breasts
I wake from a strange and unsettling dream to discover I have breasts.
Sumptuous, womanly breasts. It’s my pale skin alright, but rising from my narrow chest are two perfectly round, perfectly beautiful titties. Firm, perky with dark aureoles and nipples like pencil erasers.
Slowly, I run a tentative hand across the nipples, then employ both hands to cup my new jahoobies. The curve of the flesh is a revelation. These knockers have heft and their warmth feels wonderful in my hands.
And thus I find no self-control; I can’t stop fondling myself.
Mother calls up the stairs and breaks my concentration.
I pull on a bulky hoody to hide my new boobs, squeezing my fleshly funbags a few more times for good measure, and rumble down the stairs.
At the breakfast table, mother wears a horrified mask of disgust. Dad has been blessed with endowments of his own, and he’s got his hooters sticking out of his unbuttoned work shirt.
“Ain’t this a kick?” dad says, running his calloused hands over the creamy white skin of his own wondrous rack.
Comments
I like how imaginative this is...and all the different words you used to label boobs...
Too funny. Men accuse women of penis envy... your story makes women wonder if rack envy rules a man's world....
Great job!
stop by and check out my 3ww!
I admit I wasn't so sure at the beginning, and, for once, I knew exactly where this was going once Mother called up the stairs... and I still really enjoyed this.
Your micro-tales are so engaging.
Sometimes you remind of a Polish writer named Stanislaw Lem. He wrote a book of reviews of non-existent books, for example.
Anyway, I still think that you need to package these babies. You've got it so flaunt it. (Which I guess you do, but I'd love to see you get paid, too!)
Tschuess,
Chris