I love the way my breasts look. They are large and full looking with big sticky-out nipples. What's more they are full of milk - too much milk!
I gave birth to a baby about six months ago and, since then, my body has become virtually everything I ever wished for. I've worked hard on getting my tummy flat, and have succeeded fairly well, and then there are my tits. I think they are simply amazing.
It was a warm Fall morning and we had slept in late during a rare day off together. We had absolutely nothing planned so we lounged in bed talking and enjoying being snuggled up close to each other.
"I miss being naked on the beach like we were during our trip to the resort," Sandra, my wife, said referring to the incredible week that we spent at the Mexican, adults-only, clothing-optional resort.
I was a freshman in college, a virgin, and as luck would have it sharing the dormitory floor with more females than males. In fact there were two beauties just across the hall from my room that I shared with Kevin Morris, a very religious kid who was penciled in as next year's starting quarterback.
I had not seen Linds in a while. She stopped by with her friend Joan. I had never seen Joan before. She was beautiful, long brown hair and long slender shapely legs to match. They both wore short skirts that hugged their figure. They stopped by to pay a visit and check up on me. I quickly found out the real reason for their visit.
The two women had not before met, but as travelers will, they had struck up a conversation while finding themselves in adjoining seats on the long flight to Honolulu. They discovered they had a bit in common; both going to have a bit of time with their husbands who were returning to Hawaii on leave, for a bit of rest and relaxation after duty tours in the Far East.
I glanced around nervously as Mya dug through her purse, searching for her keys.
"What time is your boyfriend coming home again?" I asked, waiting impatiently as she continued rummaging.
"Stop worrying about it?" she chided, pulling her keys from the purse, fumbling them in her drunken fingers. "He won't be back until the morning."
The room is dark around us, except for the few candles I'd lit before joining you in our big bed. A storm is in the distance, the low rumbles of occasional thunder signaling its approach. For now, only a light rain falls outside but the wind is gusty - rushing around the corners of the house with an eerie howl.
A year ago for Lent I encouraged my husband to adopt as his Lenten commitment a vow to compliment a woman at least once a day. I explained to him that this would make him a better and nicer person and that paying women compliments is a good way to demonstrate your appreciation and respect for them. My husband enjoys being submissive in our relationship and I told him that when he pays compliments to other women and shows his appreciation of them, it is a compliment to me as well.
Mandy's weekend had not been good at all; from the early start to the heavy traffic to the slowest bellman in the entire country to the flaky actresses, the Georgia peach was anything but sweet by the time she arrived home. A more apt description would be an ornery lioness, ready to claw the next person who had the audacity to simply look at her wrong.
"It was your job to get him here on time. You do know, I hope, that the Best Man tradition started as being the bride's Best Man because he got the groom to the altar. You should never have taken him drinking after the rehearsal dinner last night."
"I never expected to get so drunk that I'd lose him."
"Pathetic..." the last comment came from the corner of the tiny bridal waiting room at the old church. Kristy, Carol's maid of honour, "I bet you aren't even hung over because you're still drunk."