She had the most perfect pair of breasts I had ever seen: boing, boing, boing they went as she strode briskly along the platform. I tried not to look, but was absolutely fascinated by the slow, languorous oscillations they caused beneath her cashmere top.

My wife saw the object of my gaze and kicked me sharply on the shins.

“Ow!” I cried. “What was that for?”

She glared at me. “Like you don't know. Have respect!”

“But I couldn't help it. Large objects draw one's attention.”

“You mean large, female objects.”

She had a point, and there was no denying my nature. I returned to my book.

Boing, boing, boing they went in my mind's eye – two large lumps of curiously shaped flesh, bouncing in glorious synchronicity.


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