OK, now I have to say it. I need to buy a camera.
Day started of bad at work, still felt bad through the last minutes of my break so I decide to take in the breast pride parade out front. Perfect weather always brings a flood of people to the strip I work on, and those crowds are always abundant with Philly girls who carry no shame in their overtaxed bras. As a preamble a , very brown, very tall, very stacked Italiana, ambled by, her 38DDs making a formidable hunch through the many layers she had on, my mood brightened somewhat and I almost retired to the store to finish the day when suddenly...
A red blob appeared in my peripheral vision and my Mercerwatch meter redlined when what I thought first was a circus clown with overfilled party balloons stuffed into her polo shirt disappeared into a store across the street. For an agonizing 2-3 minutes I craned my neck in that direction praying it wasnt a return of the tranny that caused the commotion in this forum last summer. My fears were relieved and my heart rate arcced when a woman (and what a woman) emerged from the store, her mammoth girth preceding her by like a minute! Red-skinned-freckled black woman, short black hair, a wig I think forties with two college age daughters. Aside from the sheer mass of them , an easy 36J-K cup, I was struck by the shape, unlike the Raineesha lookalike who is bigger but possesses two perfect sphere that cover her whole torso, these were more "breast" shaped y'know the French tear drop ideal full at the back , heavy at the bottom and tapering to the nipple at the fullest point, except these were 20 times bigger than. Best yet she made no attempt to conceal her blockbuster bosom, her fire engine red polo shirt consisited of thousands of tiny ribs that mapped every inch of the customized bra beneath , and was tucked neatly into the high waist of her black jeans that flattened her belly and pushed her tits out even further. Emerging from the store the trio (subject and daughters, though subject and breasts could apply) made a beeline for the Dairy Queen, as did I both for a better view and because I wanted a milkshake for some reason
Cup in hand I took a seat at the table near their booth, which she couldnt fit in without taking up half the table with sweatermeat. Even after they left I pondered how she copes.
Oh yeah as she exited...lets just say another two inches to the left and I'd be a goner!