Donna and Nellie's Exposure

One evening, while waiting for Donna in the pub, I was chatting to Nellie at the bar. It was quiet and no other customers were there. Nellie was moaning about her chest again. She had, so she told me, been out to a posh family do the weekend before and one of her tits had made a bid for freedom while she was dancing. She explained that her frock had not been suitable for a bra to be worn under it, since it had no back and she is singularly proud of that piece of her anatomy. I felt it was unwise of her to buy a dress that did not accommodate a bra but didn’t say so. Apparently when the said mammary was released it caused something of a stir among her fellow celebrants.

‘It was this one,’ she said, hefting her left breast, as if it really mattered which had escaped. ‘At least they didn’t both get out.’ I wasn’t sure that particularly mattered but held my counsel. To be perfectly honest I was rather afraid one might pop out as we spoke, so barely contained did they seem to be but was relieved when she said she’d bought a new bra which did the job rather well. ‘Want to see it?’ Before I could refuse and rather to my horror she yanked her t shirt aside to reveal an extraordinarily diaphanous garment which held her boob in a sort of string bag.

‘May one enquire precisely what is occurring here?’ Donna’s voice was right behind my ear. I turned, hastily and started to frame an explanation but her eyes were cold and she appeared angry. ‘I move in and two days later here you are with Nellie’s tit in your face and you drooling all over the counter. It’s not good enough.’ She turned to Nellie. ‘Pop that away, Nell, and fetch me a glass of the same as College is having. Better get her one as well, she looks as though she needs one.’ To my huge relief, Donna kissed me and laughed. ‘Should have seen your face, College. Not surprising really, terrifying sight that.’

Nellie returned with two glasses of wine and poked her tongue out at Donna. ‘Just cos you’ve got bee stings for tits.’ She hefted hers again, both together this time. ‘That is what you call a bosom.’

‘Entre nous, College,’ said Donna later when we were in bed together, ‘this is what I call a bosom.’ She gently palpated mine as I kissed her ear. I had explained that Nellie had whipped it out before I could beseech her not to. I slid down and nestled between hers.

‘They’re not bee stings, they’re gorgeous.’

‘I couldn’t give a fig, because when you’re doing that and, oh yes, that too, they do the trick lovely.’ I persisted to make sure the trick was being done satisfactorily. She pushed me gently down further so I could lick over her tummy and follow the guiding strip of hair to that delectable treasure that lies, warm and moist for me between her thighs.

‘Are you sure you still trust me?’

‘Sometimes, College, you talk too much.’ Her fingers curled in my hair and pulled me towards her firmly. I stopped talking, there being far better ways to express my utter love for her.