- Thu Feb 20, 2014 6:40 pm
#37008
My wife often brings up the idea of wearing something that is so blatant that it gets people to ogle. Where what you are wearing is so obviously to show that people don't bother pretending to look at your face, they just ogle your chest, which is presented to its best advantage, which means you're standing up, shoulders back nipples pointed straight ahead. A black polka dotted chiffon top she had was selected for the purpose and we got on our cycles and went to a local sandwich shop that usually has a winding line out the door. The winding would ensure that people in line, including me, got to face her and check her out without having to make potentially embarrassing head turns.
It worked. I got in and line and she joined a few minutes later after locking both our bikes up around the corner. As soon as she rounded the building, all eyes went to her top, which was hiding nothing in the midday sun. She stood in line busy with her phone, from time to time raising her hand to scratch at her collarbone and covering one nipple and serving to accent the exposure of the other one. Her quarter-sized areolae and erect pencil-eraser nipples on perfect display on perky breasts under thin chiffon that did nothing to squash them out of shape. It was a saliva-inducing sight and I noticed several people sucking it in. I wondered if someone would take a picture with their phone, but no one did. For a moment, I wanted to do it myself so others would feel comfortable following suit, toying with the idea of a photo going viral, but I hadn't discussed it with her so I didn't.
She's done this before, but it never gets old. The show, the knowledge that whoever she smiles at can look directly at her nipples while talking to her, the confidence she has in being comfortable with that and the risk of meeting an acquaintance as an adrenaline bonus . . .
It worked. I got in and line and she joined a few minutes later after locking both our bikes up around the corner. As soon as she rounded the building, all eyes went to her top, which was hiding nothing in the midday sun. She stood in line busy with her phone, from time to time raising her hand to scratch at her collarbone and covering one nipple and serving to accent the exposure of the other one. Her quarter-sized areolae and erect pencil-eraser nipples on perfect display on perky breasts under thin chiffon that did nothing to squash them out of shape. It was a saliva-inducing sight and I noticed several people sucking it in. I wondered if someone would take a picture with their phone, but no one did. For a moment, I wanted to do it myself so others would feel comfortable following suit, toying with the idea of a photo going viral, but I hadn't discussed it with her so I didn't.
She's done this before, but it never gets old. The show, the knowledge that whoever she smiles at can look directly at her nipples while talking to her, the confidence she has in being comfortable with that and the risk of meeting an acquaintance as an adrenaline bonus . . .