When Boobs Attack!
I was at the mall today (after work) when someone grabbed me from behind. I could tell it was female from the (generous) bosom I could feel pressing against my back. Whoever it was covered my eyes and whispered into my ear.
“Guess who it is?”
I hesitated. It’s never a good thing to get this wrong, so silence is often a better policy.
My mysterious assailant forcefully turned me around, grabbed my head and forced my face into her boobs before I could even look at her own face.
I recognized “her” instantly.
“Bwookf?” I mumbled into the boob flesh that I knew so well.
She pulled me out of her chest and beamed at me. There she was, my old friend Brooke, standing before me in Mandy’s body. It was painful, but not as much as I thought it would be. She wasn’t dressed like Mandy. Mandy was more the tight-t-shirt-and-jeans type. This version had gotten a haiircut, and was wearing a skirt and a loose blouse.
“You two look good,” I said at her boobs, not knowing what else to say.
“Eyes up here, bud.” She punched me in the shoulder. “You’re an asshole for not returning my calls.”
I had to agree.
“That means you owe me a beer.
I had to agree there too.
So we went for a beer, and I filled her in on the latest events in my life. Kinda felt good to have someone to talk to.
Next update: SaturdayShare