Yes, You Can Bury Your Face in My "Sweet Titties"
There I was, standing outside a Harvard Ave bar, saying goodnight to my girlfriend. I’d regretted this neighborhood choice for bar hopping even before the evening began because 1) its oozing with undergrad Boston University kids, and 2) I am 27 after all, and though as a BU alum I have love for the school, I am just too old for this shit.
It was summertime, last July to be exact. I was wearing shorts and a black form fitting top that came up to my neckline, and I had my hair up. I saw you out of the corner of my eye approaching but I ignored you. You were the typical college kid with the requisite purposely wrinkled white button down shirt and those same low hung faded out jeans and sandals. You had ‘your boys’ with you. They of course, were wearing the same uniform, and together you all looked like Abercrombie & Fitch exploded or something.
Though I was still chatting with my girlfriend with the assumption you would just pass by on the street like a normal person, I caught a glimpse of a sickening smirk on your face. The next thing I knew, I blinked and you were standing nose to nose with me on the sidewalk, with your boys crowding around us(guess you must do this sort of thing pretty often and they knew the entertainment was about to begin).
You looked down at my boobs leering, as you licked your lips and said loud enough for all of Harvard Ave to hear “hey baby, I wanna bury my face in those sweet titties!”
And so with a single sentence, you had me at a loss of words, which hasn’t happened at least since I got my second law degree. I was seething just then, but I all could come up with was an angry, shaky voiced “fuck off” while I shot you a murderous look. You, of course, responded by making loud suckling noises while you grabbed a handful of the air with both hands (representing my “titties”, I am assuming) and at the same time you shook your head in it making licking motions.
So, since I never got to tell you at the time, I would like to tell you that while my cleavage is quite ample enough to have buried your head with its pea sized brain therein, that space happened to have been reserved at the time. It was reserved for my now ex- boyfriend, who was quite obsessed with burying his own face deep in my “sweet titties” himself. However, since that bastard happened to break things off right before the Sox won the Series, I am writing to inform you that my “titties” have room for your face now afterall.
I now realize as a single professional woman in boston that “romantic gestures” are few and far between, and I should have been more appreciative. And besides, now its winter and without a face buried in them, my “titties” are getting cold.
So, in conclusion, my answer is now yes. I’ll bring the titties, you bring your face, and lets gets the ball(s) rolling…..
this is in or around My Cleavage and Harvard Ave