A winner in Desdmona's Titillating Tattoo contest, this powerful erotic
short story also appears in
Together: For the Cure, a critically-acclaimed collection of
erotica benefiting breast cancer research and prevention.
NOTE: Audiobook is, regrettably, not also free. We have no control
over the pricing of audiobooks.
M/F, CONTEMPORARY, INSPIRATIONAL, EXPLICIT ADULT FICTION
Once upon a time, I hated my tits. Loathed them
with a passion bordering on obsession. I envied girls with pert, perky breasts
even as I acknowledged that teeny tiny boobs would completely unbalance my
figure. My hips needed their substantial neighbors to the north. Without a full
set of knockers, my broad backside would overwhelm my frame. Even so, I hated
I wanted to go braless without causing automobile accidents, without drawing
stern glances from holier-than-thou church ladies, without having my chest
addressed as if it'd achieved sentience. I wanted to be able to jog without
pain. I wanted freedom from underwires.
I wanted these things before I even turned fourteen.
In the seventh grade, between Mrs. Platt's third period social studies class and
Mr. Wilson's fourth period math class, my tits erupted from the unbroken
landscape of my torso. Just like that. I swear it seemed that sudden. I don't
recall ever wearing a bra smaller than a C cup.
Billy Robinson was the first boy I allowed to touch them. What he lacked in
finesse, he made up for in height. As the only one of my classmates taller than
I, although barely so, he received the bulk of my nascent sexual attentions.
I didn't consider it a big deal, really. I simply considered it something to
endure. He, on the other hand, considered it so big a deal that he told Tommy
Crawford who told Keith Gallagher who told the entire locker room after gym
class on a fateful Friday afternoon in October.
By Monday morning, I was the biggest slut ever to attend Edgewood Middle School.
By Monday afternoon, I wanted to die.
My tits were nothing but trouble.