boringvsfunny

Which side of me will win?

Jigglin’ titties! Who’d’a thunk of it?

This is going to seem really sordid and pervy and possibly quite sexist, but for the sake of full disclosure, honesty, journalistic integrity and the pursuit of truth, it’s necessary that I hereby describe a pair of breasts belonging to a girl called Katja at some length and in great detail.


Katja wouldn’t let Peter photograph her
tits, so here’s an inferior stand-in.

They were big, that’s for sure, but not really that big if I think about it, which I have been. A lot.

Very round though, and incredibly perky considering their considerable size. And I think what made them seem perhaps bigger than they actually were was that they were really packed in tight. Katja’s top, to be frank, wasn’t doing its job very well at all – it’d clearly given up keeping a lid on things hours previously – but her bra was performing admirably under very challenging conditions. Somehow, no matter how much Katja jiggled about – and she jiggled about a lot – her bra managed to keep things under control, ensuring that Katja’s breasts jiggled, but never wobbled. And there would be no nip slips. No, not this night.

God, they were round. And they looked smooth too. Like if you rubbed your face against them, you wouldn’t even feel their gossamer touch gliding across your cheek. There’d be no friction, just an almost dizzying feeling of calmness and contentment.

Big too. But not silly big.

What I’m trying to say is that Katja had the most impressive, beautiful, characterful, enticing, deliciously perfect pair of breasts I have ever seen in my entire life. And I know this to be true because I looked. I looked a lot and I didn’t even pretend I wasn’t looking. I couldn’t not look. It would have been a terrible act of self-betrayal to have looked elsewhere when Katja was so enthusiastically and knowingly jiggling them about right near where my eyes were.

Oh, by the way… Katja is 16 years old.

I suppose I’d better give this some context.

This weekend I went to Maribor again, this time for Peter’s birthday. Maribor’s Festival Lent was still in full swing, so we met up down by the river to take in some live entertainment and fireworks. We got an entirely different kind of live entertainment and fireworks than we expected.

Peter, myself and Gregor were sitting on a little grassy bank on the edge of the river, when these two pretty Slovene girls sat down next to Peter and started talking to him. They were very drunk.

Katja was so drunk she couldn’t stop talking at the top of her voice. Her friend, let’s call her Blondie, was so drunk she could barely talk at all. Upon learning that I was English, Katja became quite excited and very animated, leaning across Peter to tell me she loved me and to offer me an imaginary cup of tea and to tell me that she wanted me to call her Katy (I wanted her to call me ‘daddy’). Peter could not stop smiling.

Before long Peter asked Katja how old she was. She said she was 16.

Now, Peter is one of the dirtiest, filthiest perverts I know – or at least he professes to be – but I saw a change come over him at that moment. He just didn’t know what to do or what to think. Feelings of guilt and shame were evident on his face, although the same pervy grin was still there.

Thing is though, it wasn’t up to Peter what to do or what to think. Peter wasn’t in charge here – Katja’s tits were. So Peter just did what Katja’s tits told him to do, which was to stare at them and occasionally ask Katja to jiggle them (which she did, although she didn’t really need to be asked) and to think about what it would feel like to touch them with his hands, face and genitals.

And that’s what I did too (except, y’know, I wasn’t thinking about touching them with Peter’s genitals or whatever…). But not as much as Peter did. Because… I was sat a bit further away.

It wasn’t long before both Peter and Gregor had both asked Katja to marry them, partly because, in Peter’s case, she believes women belong in the kitchen, and in Gregor’s case, because she’s a huge fan of Diablo III. But mainly because of, in both cases, her incredible tits. She graciously ignored these proposals however, because she was too busy talking and jiggling.

Katja was mainly talking to us but she would occasionally chatter excitedly to Blondie in Slovene. Blondie didn’t really join in talking to us, but… I don’t know if it was just me… but she kept making very direct eye contact with me in what I think might have been supposed to be a sultry way. She just looked pissed as a fart though, really.

What none of us realised though, was that Blondie was about to upstage Katja’s utterly divine tits in a most spectacular fashion. Had Gregor realised, he certainly wouldn’t have chosen this particular five minute window to wander off for a piss. But he didn’t, so he did.

Soon after Gregor had gone, Blondie suddenly stood up (just about) and staggered gingerly down the grassy bank to the flat, narrow strip of grass right next to the river.

She stands there with her back to the river, facing a riverbank packed with hundreds of festival goers – regular folk, families, children – and starts undoing her shorts. At this point, I realised what was about to happen and I looked away. Right, right away. Like, off to the right, and into the sky for good measure. I think I hurt my neck a bit.


Again… not actual footage.

Peter didn’t look away at all. He looked on eagerly, telling me that, yes, Blondie had indeed pulled down her shorts and her knickers in front of everyone and squatted down to take a piss. Then he started shouting, “FREE PUSSY!” over and over again.

When I looked back to see whether or not it was all over, it was not. Having successfully adopted the squat ‘n’ squirt position, Blondie had immediately run into great difficulty maintaining it, and so had fallen backwards onto her bottom, her feet pointing outward just as sharply, awkwardly and asymmetrically as her thighs were pointing in. She was lucky not to have fallen into the river.

Katja was trying valiantly to help her friend to her feet by pulling hard on her left arm. It was sad, hilarious and nowhere near as erotic as Peter thought it was. I had to look away again.

When I looked back again to see if it was all over, Blondie was just pulling up her knickers and, I have to say, looking pretty bloody pleased with herself for some reason. Peter was still shouting “FREE PUSSY!”

The girls sat back down to continue chattering, jiggling and making drunken eyes at me exactly where they had left off. Then Gregor came back.

Soon, a degree of tension began to emerge between the girls. They would snap at each other as if about to fight, then suddenly get all BFF again and start hugging. It slowly escalated though, getting gradually snappier and more physical until eventually, a fairly violent but brief wrestling match broke out. Katja pinned Blondie, who was too hammered to offer any kind of effective resistance, to the floor, straddled her and held her arms down.

Then she leaned down and started passionately making out with her.

I actually started to get a bit of a semi. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but it’s entirely true.

Erm… anyway. They didn’t do that for very long, then after a while they wandered off somewhere else, but not before Katja had said goodbye to each of us by thrusting her tits into our faces. I think that’s what happened anyway. It’s not clear in my memory. I had a lot going through my mind by that point.

Then some bloke came and sat in Blondie’s piss.

The End.

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