breast fu

Here’s why I love those quirky little creatures we call women so much. I walk into the Hurricane after work and soon I’m joined by a buddy of mine and his girlfriend who sit next to me. This cat’s not only one of my oldest friends but a double cancer survivor to boot and every time I see him I can’t help grinning because I’m just so happy to see him still around. And we’re always joking about all the time I spent visiting him during his various stays in the hospital. So we’re not quite at the Brokeback Mountain level but pretty close in a tough guy kind of way.

The minute they sit down he starts screaming at me to stop looking at his girlfriend’s tits due to the fact she’s sporting a low cut blouse. And I’m of course shocked at his accusations and I’m in full denial. But just betwixt you and me I’m actually staring at her legs trying to work out the math of how a week earlier this hot little chica no bigger then that was able to kick the windshield out of his Jeep Cherokee. Yeah, that’ll teach em not to start an argument on the way home from a bar.

Anyway after a few minutes she whispers to him and suddenly he goes, “oh if you want too, it’s Greg”. She turns to me and the next thing I know I’m sharing space with a very nice pair of uncorked thirty-six B’s. Of course I’m duly impressed and once again I’m amazed at how soothing the sight of a female breast can be. In all the years I’ve worked in bars and hung out and lived with strippers, I’ve seen mine and your share of breasts. But I never seem to tire of looking at em.


"and the monkey flipped the switch"