To the girl who Titty Flashed me in front of Walmart

 

It was night time and you were on the sidewalk with a gaggle of your friends and you were all rushing toward the entrance. I hit my brakes, waiting for you to cross, but then you stopped, turned towards me with my headlights illuminating you perfectly, you raised your shirt and flashed me. Then you started doing something…breathing I guess. Breathing is a fascinating thing to watch in a woman who’s flashing you.

Never before have I believed in love at first sight. They were shapely and round and oh-so-generously proportioned, with smooth creamy skin, and they were proudly standing up with the resilience of youth. I immediately began thinking of all the things I could do with your breasts -- we could go for long walks together on misty mornings, have dinner in romantic restaurants, go for bike rides on a bicycle built for two around the lake. I began to imagine a lifetime of waking up with your breasts in my face, continuing to love them as age and gravity inevitably take their toll.

I could write poems for your pom-poms, ditties for your titties. Who needs a Banana Split when I've got a pair of ice cream sundaes with cherries on top?

I'm almost certainly too old for you, but I think I could still have a meaningful relationship with your boobs.