The last time I had an intimate experience with such wonderfully, large breasts was, I think, in the fifth grade. Mrs. Maderos was my teacher and she would hover above my desk and shade me from the flourescent lights. Yep, her boobs were that big. Big enough to eclipse things. And she wore them in a bra that made them desk-like. I used to laugh to myself thinking I could actually do my homework on her chest. Where's my number 2 pencil? Likely, on her chest. Her desk chest. Chest desk. I thought that if it poured during recess and I was umbrella-less, I could find shelter under the bosom of Mrs. Maderos. Her nickname was torpedo tits.
Okay, you can't do your algebra on Meesh's pregnant boobs - they're not THATTT big. But let's just say I am proud of them. Better than that, Meesh is proud of them. Wears 'em like a badge, errr, badges of honor. The boobs are just one of the things Meesh loves about being pregnant. She is cooking a quiche right now while talking on the phone with our friend. I am writing this and overhearing her say through a smile "I love being pregnant! I am so happy." Fuck...I found the Golden Tickkettttt! That was all I had to do. Get her pregnant? I warned her that if she keeps this up...this overwhelming bliss...I am going to have to keep her pregnant for years...nee...forever and ever.
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