Tuesday, 4 April 2017

Bliss. Part of an Occasional Series of New Flash Fiction


There were plenty of names for them - boobs, tits, melons, knockers, bazooms, you name it, she’d had it shouted at her.  And they were big, even she had to admit that, and sometimes she could feel the very weight of them lying heavy, like sleeping puppies, in her bra, the nipples stiff and perky. catching the eyes of passing boys as she strutted the prom in the bouncy heat of a noonday summer sun.  And, sometimes, when she was alone in her room, she fantasised about unfastening her blouse in front of Mrs Kelly from next door and having the older woman suckle on her outsized breasts.  It was her idea of pure bliss.

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