What About My Boobs

It was a weekly tradition. Every Friday, Dylan and I would visit the local bar trying to pick up girls to bring back to our apartment. Usually, we had a good amount of success but tonight there was no such luck. I’d been getting edgier and edgier(as well as drunker and drunker) the longer this went on until finally I’d tried to pick up this one chick sitting by herself in the corner. When she’d said no I’d been pretty pissed, muttering under my breath as I walked away. Little did I know that she’d snapped her fingers and pointed out me, muttering under her own breath. I remembered feeling light headed as I walked over to meet up with Dylan.

“Dude! You……you have boobs!” Dylan exclaimed once he saw me, glancing southward. I looked down as well and giggled. “Of course, silly! What girl doesn’t?” “Who…are you?” Dylan asked, seeming to turn paler. “Oh my gawd! And you call me a ditz! I’m your girlfriend Katie!” I squealed. It sounds totes ridiculous, but then I saw this, like, flash and Dylan was still looking at my boobs but he wasn’t as pale, you know, and then he, like, starting grinning….


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