Avert: (v) turn away one’s eyes or thoughts.
I like breasts.
I’m not talking about those that are dipped in egg and fried in a skillet which come from the hen-house. They have their appeal.
I’m talking about the breasts on the female of our species.
I suppose sharing that out loud makes one seem a little perverted or at least overly vulnerable. I don’t care. To deny it would make me a moralistic liar.
I especially enjoyed breasts in my twenties.
Matter of fact, I was traveling with a young lady who had a pair which particularly piqued my intrigue.
I tried to take the normal path that might lead one to revelation. In other words, I expressed interest in her, hoping that such a courtesy would eventually lead to full disclosure. But it didn’t.
She cursedly liked me “as a friend.” Friends don’t usually share their bosoms. (Just something I’ve discovered.)
So if I was going to feed the lustful monster which habitated somewhere deep in the cellar of my thoughts, it became necessary for me to come up with an angle from which to view the breasts of this young girl without going through medical school and becoming her gynecologist.
We were staying at a motel. Motels have a very sneaky system. The mirror that is on the wall–usually directly behind the television set–just happens to give you an excellent viewing angle into the nearby bathroom.
Now, I’m not certain if my friend, who happened to be a girl, was just naive, or if she was a little vixen who knew how to quickly escape into her foxhole. But one night she took a shower and decided not to close the bathroom door all the way. So sitting on my bed and gazing into that magical mirror, I was able to catch a vision of her womanhood.
At first it was hazy from the shower steam. But I persisted–and gradually, there they were.
Her breasts. They were beautiful.
She lingered and I joined her.
I became so excited that I nearly felt the need to take the situation in hand. But I maintained my dignity just in case she would emerge and catch me.
It was amazing.
I did not avert my glance.
I do not know what I would have been, to be so responsible. But whoever that person was, I personally was not acquainted with him.
I still like breasts. I am no longer a Peeping Tom, nor do I look for magical ways to see them, but I’m sure there are other things that I should avoid seeing … but I fail to avert my eyes.
Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) — J.R. Practix
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