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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…

 

 

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11 Mar

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12 Feb

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Does Getting Motorboated in the Men’s Room Count as a Hook-up?

5 Feb

Grabbed your attention with that title, didn’t I?

Several years ago, I attended a friend’s wedding with Claude as my date.  After acting like fools in church, and taking advantage of the open bar at the reception, we all went to a local bar.  Shenanigans ensued. 

We had a girlfriend studying abroad during that time, and this was the email that I sent her summarizing the events at the wedding. 

  1. Claude and I were naughty in church and were laughing at hymn called “Lord, You Probed Me” while everyone was singing something else.
  2. I let CJ feel my boobs in the stall of the MEN’S ROOM at the bar (while his girlfriend was in the back room).
  3. J Ho drove me home, we hooked up, and I played his bag pipe in the car.

So very uber klassy.  I had forgotten about this whole entire affair (so to speak).

How’d we end up in the men’s room?

Like on most occasions with that specific group of friends, the subject turned to boobs.  CJ (short for Circle Jerk*) had managed to hook up with half of my friends.  He’s one of those guys that says he has no game…which is actually his game.  There we were sitting at the table while his girlfriend was at the bar ordering a drink.  Blah, blah, snore long story.  He asked if he could feel my boobs, I said yes, but he said he wanted them bare.  I said he could, he didn’t believe, I told him to lead the way, and we ended up in a stall in the men’s room with my strapless dress pulled down to my waist and his head buried in my chest.

Oh, but it gets better than that.

Claude was my ride for the evening and he had to go.  Not wanting to miss the fun, I wanted to stay.  CJ’s roommate offered to give me a ride home.  Let me tell you a little bit about his roommate, JHo.  He was a tall drink of water, and there were several of us that had always wanted to get on him.   He was 6’5″, lean, and charming as charming could be.  That boy could melt butter with his smile.  And he was a boy as he was 5 years younger than I.

Whatever, I thought nothing of it.  I just figured he was being nice and I would tell the free world that I got to flirt with him.  Was I in for a surprise.  Quite a BIG surprise.

We were halfway back to my house when his hand wound up on my thigh.  “SAH-WEET!” I thought to myself, “I know what this means”.  10 minutes later we were on the side street leading to my condo and were making out in the car.  Once again, the top of my dress wound up down around my waist.  While he was paying attention to my high beams, I noticed another set of high beams-in the rear view mirror.  A car had pulled up behind us and was trying to get around…guess they weren’t interested in the free show we were giving.  I adjusted my dress and was ready to say goodbye.

He wanted to go into my condo but I refused to let him in (no pun intended).  It wasn’t that I didn’t want to climb up on him, but my condo was an absolute disaster.  The solution?  We ended up parking behind the garage in the alley. 

Nothing like a bj in a freaking alley to show how classy and sophisticated a girl can be.

I’m so proud of myself.

 

 

*A girlfriend of mine who dated him shortly gave him that name.  One day, while he was exhibiting that he had no game, they were hanging out in the bar parking lot together during happy hour.  She was sure that this was going to be the moment of their big first kiss.  Instead, he proceeded to literally walk circles around her.  He didn’t make his move until 3 weeks later.  Hence the name “Circle Jerk”.   Silky smooth move.

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8 Jan

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Girl Power

1 Oct

I just got the most hilarious email:

—–Original Message—–
From: Friend, Dirty Male
Sent: Wednesday, October 01, 2008 12:33 PM
To: Singleton, Catherinette
Subject: Out to lunch

 

Disney and I were wondering if you needed a babysitter for your girls. Let us know. And thank you.

Hey, in case you couldn’t tell, he was referring to my cans.

An Open Letter to My Body

20 Sep

Dear Body,

Hey, how’s it going?  Been a long time since we talked.  Listen, I just wanted to send you a quick note about something.  It’s been on my mind a lot today.  Look, something has to change between the two of us, and it’s this: you need to learn how to handle your alcohol better.

We went out last night, had a good time.  There were young men in their early 20’s hitting on you.  Sure, one of them was so wasted that he could barely stand, as evidenced by his desire to stand so close to you that he was nearly sitting on your lap.  But the other one wasn’t so bad-except for his jacked up pinky.  He could string a sentence together, and managed to walk without falling all over the place.  Plus everyone was so happy to give your jubblies an ogle.  Especially, that one guy that blatantly stared at your tatas, then made eye contact with you and said, “Sorry.” 

Come on, that was fun, right?  So look, if you want to go out and do that again, then you need to not be hung over the next day.  Really.  It’s embarrassing.  It really is.  Do you really have to have a headache all god damned day?  And do you have to be so freaking tired that you want to nap like an old man at 6:00 pm on a Saturday?  That’s just pathetic.  So let’s man up and cut the the shit, okay?

Great.  I’m glad we had this talk.  Think about what I’ve said.

Always, Catherinette