I finally admitted defeat at 12:30am.
I just couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, I was starting to fidget on the sofa and I could see J was getting equally tired.
I walked over, took his hand and said ‘come to bed and give me a cuddle…..’
It was in my most sultry, soft voice.
Do you know what he said?
I just want to rub my head in your boobies!
And then he did.
Then he asked me if I felt sexy.
What? What the hell? Are you serious?
Let me think, do I feel sexy after you manhandled me and rubbed your head between my boobs?
No. I do not.
Not even a little bit.
What is it with men and their love of all thing breast? I just don’t get it?
I mean I don’t walk around staring at J’s crotch and thinking ‘God I’d love to get my head in there’ and I certainly don’t walk around randomly talking to ‘Little J’
The same can not be said for men and breasts.
I’ve actually lost count of the number of times I’ve been out and been chatting to a guy at a bar and had to stop him to tell him to make eye contact with me because he was talking to my boobs. One guy even told me he had names for them once!
Fuck. Off. Purlease.
Boobs are just boobs. I mean, they stick out the front, block the view of your feet, feed babies and generally get in the way some times.
Just boobs.
What is the fascination with them?
J says they’re his.
Well, he’s can have them.
Let’s see how well he fares with them for a few days.
Doubt very much he’ll be wanting to permanently rub his head in them then!
