I'm sorry, are my breasts staring at you?
Alright, so I'm a bitch on wheels today.
That's right, no love for me; I was cheated. Bastard husband.
Alright so, it wasn't really his fault... and even though I went to bed pissed off, ultimately I had only myself to blame. Would you like to pull up a chair and join my pity party... fuck you then, you're hearing it anyway.
Late, late last night I attempted to provoke half-asleep husband to fufill his responsibility by being a provider... of an orgasm or two. As my post last night reflected I was in need of some extra special love and attention.
Mental Post-it: "Listen bitch, do your duty... felate me so I can sleep" is not an appropriate way to ask husband for late night oral sex. Although it should be, damn it.
So I told husband that I just wanted to kiss it goodnight...riiiiggghhhtt.
I put his dick in my mouth, it was only supposed to be for a minute in order to warm him up to satisy my needs... I didn't mean for him to come and for me to sit there...stunned...
"What the fuck did you do that for?" followed closely by "You were supposed to get me off."
"Well then why did you suck it?"
"Because I thought you could take a hint, stupid me. I was trying to get you ready!"
We both kind of looked at each other stupidly... long unintentional pause.
"Honey, I don't need any help in that department... Why didn't you stop then?"
What I wanted to say was: Well, you were holding my head down there... and I dunno, normally you're not so fucking selfish about it... you normally tell me when you're going to come so we can switch up!
I didn't... I just took the lame ass approach and said "I dunno..."
"What's eating you?"
"Not you... that's for sure... bitch."
Accession : deep down inside, I think he likes it when I call him bitch.
SO ... I went to bed pissed off, defeated and unfulfilled.
Husband was sedated... that pissed me off even more.
But like I said, ultimately it was all my fault.
Mental Post-it: Do not administer blow job until I get a little first.
Today, today is a little different. I feel agitated. I hope I am not PMSing... although my breasts are beginning to confirm my worst fear that I am. Yesterday afternoon they began expanding to an ungodly proportion. So much so I had to remove bra to improve mood.
I have two bra sizes thank you... I wear a C for 2 weeks, and a D for the other two.
Because this month seems to bring exceptional growth, I strapped my D on and wished for something larger. I am not a big woman by nature. Only 5'3", 115lbs... hence my wardrobe decision around this time seems to be a challenge since my clothes shrink, and I look incredibly dis-proportionate. Top heavy.
The C weeks I can comfortably wear something low cut, or tank tops without problem. On the D days I have to conceal a bit or I cause big distractions (unintentionally of course), or I bust my smaller-chested clothes. SO many cute tops I've trashed because I stretched them out by wearing them on a D day.
Today, I opted to wear a more conservative top, thought it was a safe bet.
Apparently not since just about everyone; man, woman, animal and mineral has made eye-contact with my tits first. I told my co-hort here at work that I would say something profound the next time somebody did that... considering the fucked up attitude I have today, and the constriction this stupid fucking bra is blessing me with... it is not a far stretch.
Last note to self: So what if you're nipples get hard when it's cold... just take the fucking boob-buster off already and let those babies fly. Do you think it would be any more of a distraction than they already are?
That's right, no love for me; I was cheated. Bastard husband.
Alright so, it wasn't really his fault... and even though I went to bed pissed off, ultimately I had only myself to blame. Would you like to pull up a chair and join my pity party... fuck you then, you're hearing it anyway.
Late, late last night I attempted to provoke half-asleep husband to fufill his responsibility by being a provider... of an orgasm or two. As my post last night reflected I was in need of some extra special love and attention.
Mental Post-it: "Listen bitch, do your duty... felate me so I can sleep" is not an appropriate way to ask husband for late night oral sex. Although it should be, damn it.
So I told husband that I just wanted to kiss it goodnight...riiiiggghhhtt.
I put his dick in my mouth, it was only supposed to be for a minute in order to warm him up to satisy my needs... I didn't mean for him to come and for me to sit there...stunned...
"What the fuck did you do that for?" followed closely by "You were supposed to get me off."
"Well then why did you suck it?"
"Because I thought you could take a hint, stupid me. I was trying to get you ready!"
We both kind of looked at each other stupidly... long unintentional pause.
"Honey, I don't need any help in that department... Why didn't you stop then?"
What I wanted to say was: Well, you were holding my head down there... and I dunno, normally you're not so fucking selfish about it... you normally tell me when you're going to come so we can switch up!
I didn't... I just took the lame ass approach and said "I dunno..."
"What's eating you?"
"Not you... that's for sure... bitch."
Accession : deep down inside, I think he likes it when I call him bitch.
SO ... I went to bed pissed off, defeated and unfulfilled.
Husband was sedated... that pissed me off even more.
But like I said, ultimately it was all my fault.
Mental Post-it: Do not administer blow job until I get a little first.
Today, today is a little different. I feel agitated. I hope I am not PMSing... although my breasts are beginning to confirm my worst fear that I am. Yesterday afternoon they began expanding to an ungodly proportion. So much so I had to remove bra to improve mood.
I have two bra sizes thank you... I wear a C for 2 weeks, and a D for the other two.
Because this month seems to bring exceptional growth, I strapped my D on and wished for something larger. I am not a big woman by nature. Only 5'3", 115lbs... hence my wardrobe decision around this time seems to be a challenge since my clothes shrink, and I look incredibly dis-proportionate. Top heavy.
The C weeks I can comfortably wear something low cut, or tank tops without problem. On the D days I have to conceal a bit or I cause big distractions (unintentionally of course), or I bust my smaller-chested clothes. SO many cute tops I've trashed because I stretched them out by wearing them on a D day.
Today, I opted to wear a more conservative top, thought it was a safe bet.
Apparently not since just about everyone; man, woman, animal and mineral has made eye-contact with my tits first. I told my co-hort here at work that I would say something profound the next time somebody did that... considering the fucked up attitude I have today, and the constriction this stupid fucking bra is blessing me with... it is not a far stretch.
Last note to self: So what if you're nipples get hard when it's cold... just take the fucking boob-buster off already and let those babies fly. Do you think it would be any more of a distraction than they already are?
posted by Everything Nice at 11:15 AM
2 Comments:
funny about blow job
gotta agree, the bj thing was funny. as for your tits, Cs or Ds on a woman your size would be incredibly distracting. hell, you can't blame anyone for staring, D's on a 115 pound frame would have their own fucking gravitational pull. trust me, it's physics. :)
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