Brass Rubbing

I’m no expert on breasts.  Naturally, I’ve seen one or two in my time.  Mostly twos, actually, but I’m not sure I’d be counted among the connoisseurs.  Not for lack of trying, mind.  Thing is, I’ve never had my own set, it’s always been second hand.  Still, I consider myself experienced enough to know when I have some rubbing against me.  Even in unexpected places.  Like on the Tube.  During Rush Hour.  Now, I defy you to say that you can’t tell the difference between an involuntary crush and a deliberate press.  One always knows.  Even stripping away the Wishful-Thinking factor, there was definitely some pressing going on.  Bold as brass.  All the way from Hyde Park Corner to Green Park.  But, what to do in such circumstances?  I could hardly strike up a conversation.  I couldn’t remonstrate.  There was nowhere to move.  I had no choice but to suffer in silence, like a true Englishman.  For six glorious minutes.

Comments

[The Boy Who Likes To]

Good man!

Dont think Ive ever (pardon my phrasing here, I couldnt think of any other way) come across pressing breasts.

[Carlton]

Or maybe, for you, it's so common, it just doesn't register?!

[buttons]

ahem boy who likes to... i ALWAYS do that to you :( you just don't notice