Archive | 10:40 am

Saving first base

2 Mar

Warning for my sister, stop reading.  I think there’s something on the stove that needs your attention.  Or maybe you left the water upstairs running, you should probably go check it out.  By the way, are you going to mom’s house for dinner tomorrow night?  What do you think she’ll make?

Stop reading now, you can go away.

At a party last Saturday, surrounded by friends, one of them announced, “Catherinette has great tits.”

Having boobs is a glorious thing.  At a d cup mine fit my frame.  Yes there are times when my button down shirts start to gape.  Or when I suddenly get uniboob at the gym and I go from having 2 to just one giant one in the middle.  They’re heavy sometimes, and they can be uncomfortable during the summer.   But for the most part they are a glorious sight to behold.  If they’re out on display, people will look.  Sometimes it’s subtle, sometimes not so much.

This afternoon I get the joy and pleasure of having my boobs smashed like tiny pancakes.  It’s mammogram time.  I’m excited about it.  No I’m not.  As a female with boobs, though, it’s my duty to go and get them checked out.  Gotta save first base and keep motorboating alive.  This time around, however, it’s gonna get real awkward with the technician.  You see, they’re not in their typical state.

Tuesday night, #4 couldn’t get enough of them.  On our first date I had worn a pretty conservative top which accentuated them, but didn’t show any cleavage.  I caught him sneaking some glances, and called him out on text messages later on.  Over the course of our text exchanges he mentioned how excited he was to get a hold of them – so to speak.  Obviously we were both aware of what was gonna go down on Tuesday, so I wore something low cut so he could see what he was going to get himself into later that night.  Once we were back at my house he manhandled them like no one’s business.  For 3 plus hours.  After he left they were so sore it hurt to wear a shirt, and laying on my stomach was close to impossible.  The next day as I was inspecting them in the mirror I noticed there were marks all over them.  A hicky here.  A welt there.  A hole lot of redness.  Was that a bite mark?  3 days later and they’re still sore and some of the marks he left are still visible.

I’m super stoked to take my top off and then have to explain to the technician that, no, they typically don’t have those marks.  And that, no, that welt on the bottom of the left one isn’t usually there.  And also, no, they’re not usually bruised it’s just a hicky on my god damned right one.

In hindsight perhaps I should have scheduled the appointment out a bit further…