Living in a Two Ta-Ta World...

For those easily offended, skip this one…really. Last warning. Naughty stuff. Ok, you had your chance…

I’m sure it’s tough being a three ta-ta gal in a two ta-ta world.

That’s right, since so many have asked, it’s time to expose my aunt, her of the extra utter (do they even make bras for that? I’m thinkin’ nah…) Aunt McSlutty, we called her (and I’ll call her here since using her real name would probably make me a one-testicled guy). This aunt was an aunt by marriage, not really related to me, which, I mean, thank God because I had enough freaks in my family belfry as it was. This aunt married my Uncle Ed (no, not his real name), who while generally a nice guy was kind of the five-legged ant at the family picnic when it came to women. Aunt McSlutty, seven months pregnant, managed to convince dear Uncle Ed she was merely a little bloated, after which he married her anyway (wasn’t his). Point being, there were good reasons Aunt McSlutty earned her nickname. She was a very friendly sort of gal. With everybody. Maybe even barnyard animals, but I won’t go there.

Anyhoo…this aunt was proud, initially, of showing her third teat, which was actually just kind of a lump beneath her left ta-ta with an extra sorta-nipple on it. I don’t think it was functional, but with so many satisfied customers, who knows? Perhaps she was some sort of sexual alien from the planet Booberanus. I’m still not sure. Oh, how did we know she had three, I hear someone ask? Auntie wasn’t shy. Take my word for it.

She had it removed when she got into her 40s. I guess the novelty wore off. Or perhaps orders from the Mother Ship. Whatever…

For the record, I quite liked Aunt McSlutty. She was always nice to me. So were her daughters, who weren’t real particular when it came to that whole don’t-bang-your-first-cousin stigma…ask there three-headed, middle-eyed children. (yes, I am joking…mostly.) She was fond of hugging, tightly, though I am not real sure I still needed all that help with my bath once I turned 18…

I don’t know where she is now or whatever happened to her after she ran off on my uncle. But don’t think I’ll ever get the memory of that third fun-puff out of my nightmares. Maybe I should write Victoria’s Secret about a line of lingerie for that sort of thing. Then they’d really be able to lay claim to their name.