More than a handful
I'm quite a busty wench. When I get older I'm going to be abit like Nurse Gladys from Open All Hours - I suspect young shop boys will get caught in my cleavage and need oxygen to keep them going. My dad has always said I could keep a family of ethnic minorities in there. Stray objects, if not nailed down, have been known to gravitate towards my norks due to the mass of said globes, and form an orbit around them. That is, if they can escape the orbit of my arse, which is the sort that Freddie Mercury alluded to in "Fat Bottomed Girls". I genuinely have back problems due to the weight of my tits, because the rest of me isn't built the same way - except my arse of course. So - you get the idea, there's a whole lot of woman in all the right directions here. As a result, buying bras is abit of a trauma at the best of times, and garments that fit on the top half are far far too big on the waist for me. And clothes that fit on the waist need to be lycra based - and can cause fear of busting out all over, so to speak. To add to this, I am virtually blind, so the possibility for accidental pop outs without me knowing them is pretty high.

So picture the scene (wavy lines......)
Boyfriend-of-the-time and I go out one evening to some nasty cheap fun pub and get fecking munted. We have been drinking all sorts of shite off the back row of the bar in this place just to see what it tastes like, then go back to his and drink some rough as fuck homemade sloe gin. I mean, (shudder) this stuff was fucking evil and it turns my stomach to even recall it. I hate gin at the best of times, but as is often with these things, it seemed like a good idea at the time (it wasn't - and thereby hangs two sad tales, but one isn't relevant to the qotw so is for another time.)
Eventually we get back to mine - we don't stop over at his because I've got two big German Shepherd dogs at home who need letting out and caring for. We stagger in, let dogs out in the garden for a wee wee, decide against taking them for a last-thing-at-night (now early morning) walk as we can barely manage to walk ourselves, and stagger off to bed.
The house I lived in at the time didn't have a big back garden - what it did have was often muddy as fuck, except for the concrete bit just outside the kitchen door. The house was in a terrace and this bit of concrete was overlooked by the bathroom in my house and that of the house next door. This is where my beastly dogs liked to piss last thing at night if they didn't get walked, so often first thing in the morning before they went out there I had to get the hosepipe out and wash it down, else they'd be walking around in their own night old piss as they circled for the morning doggy dump (somehow fresh piss they managed to avoid !) They didn't care a toss about walking in their own last night's wee - but when a dirty great pair of GSDs track dog piss into my kitchen and through the house, I certainly did !

On this particular morning I am still dressed in last night's bed attire, which is a see through red thing from La Senza that has only a passing aquaintance with the top of my thighs and can't even hope to cover my capacious arse, which barely covers my badger and is just not up to the job of restraining my lady lumps, plus the smallest see through g string known to woman.
On this particularly morning, I am also still pissed from the night before, can see less than usual because I'm still bladdered and can't be bothered to put on a dressing gown because it'll only get wet and wrapped round my legs as I prat around with the hosepipe like a spastic learning semaphore. And the dogs want a wee NOW, as I can tell by the doggy whining and panting.

So I peep out of the kitchen door at about half six, then thinking that my luck is in because I suddenly remember that Next Door are on holiday. So I scurry out there in last night's stupid fuck-me heels as they're the only shoes I can find (playing "tip toe through the dog piss" as I go).
I am sleepily washing down the concrete with the hose in one hand, whilst trying to keep my tits inside baby doll nightie cups that seem to be at least three sizes too small with the other, when the seal on the hose attachment gives way and I get the spray back - freezing cold water right at my chest. I am immediately fucking sodden, like a drowned rat. Instantly the red thing from La Senza becomes utterly window transparent and I'm there looking like a wet and wild amateur porn effort, with my puppies out of the top of the thing, glistening with water, and my vadge now utterly visible, and gasping in shock. I swear and squeal like a demented animal.
It is then when - well, I just get This Feeling.
It's the feeling you get when you're being watched. I get this alot, being blind as a bat and apt to walk into things, and often can't tell whether it's based in reality or not, but this time I was fairly sure it was. I squint myopically upwards and realise I am right under next doors bathroom window. Squashed up together liked sardines in a tin, barely able to contain themselves as they gape out of the little open window - they musta stood on chairs for this as it was the top pane they were looking out of - are three delighted builders who are looking straight down at my unfettered tits and sodden scanties. In my pissed state I had forgotten Next Door were having work done whilst away on holiday.
On being discovered, two of them slink away, chuckling, but the middle one says, cheerily, "Nice morning for it, love !"
Totally fucking mortified with embarrassment I decide to brazen it out rather than run off, and I say, "Thankyou - now on yer way, sonny jim !"
I could hear them laughing through the walls all day.

The even worse thing was when they came knocking on the door the next day when I got up and they heard sounds of life from my house. A courier had left a parcel for me with them, and when I answered the door, they chorused, "Didn't recognise you with yer clothes on !"

The work went on for another six weeks. I remained red as a beetroot for at least eight.
(womanwhocanonlylivewithdogs, Fri 29 May 2009, 18:52, 6 replies)

*snigger*
Have a click for the brazen :]
(Scritty Bakerman., Fri 29 May 2009, 19:26, closed)

I didn't click this by accident...
...it was because I liked it.
( TheMattInAHat has a particular... odour..., Fri 29 May 2009, 20:00, closed)

Let me be the first to say
Pics or it didn't happen!
( idonthaveafunnynickname Drink-Aware? Sure. I'm aware I want another drink., Fri 29 May 2009, 23:16, closed)

triumph doreen.
best bra ever made. they do small back sizes and huge cups, they're really supportive and they're the world's best selling bra. i've got 6 of them, they're all i'll ever wear. trust me, they're fantastic.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Sat 30 May 2009, 2:21, closed)