«Now, you have to understand the way she said that, because it’s the key to the whole project. The spirit of everything was formed within those nine words - and if she’d said them shyly, as though having her breasts touched by people was something to be endured or afraid of, the Open-Source Boob Project would have died aborning. But she didn’t. Her words were loud and clearly audible to anyone who walked by, an offer made to friends and acquaintances alike.

Yet it wasn’t a come-on, either. There wasn’t that undertow of desperation of come on, touch me, I need you to validate my self-esteem and maybe we’ll hook up later tonight. There was no promise of anything but a simple grope.

We all reached out in the hallway, hands and fingers extended, to get a handful. And lo, we touched her breasts - taking turns to put our hands on the creamy tops exposed through the sheer top she wore, cupping our palms to touch the clothed swell underneath, exploring thoroughly but briefly lest we cross the line from ‘touching” to “unwanted heavy petting.” They were awesome breasts, worthy of being touched.

And life seemed so much simpler. »

These fourteen-year-olds sure have a lot of moxie. I mean, going to a

convention, blogging, meeting girls and everything…




I tried to reply to Springheel Jack’s post about this, but he’s got aggressive comment filtering on. That’s a shame as that reduces the quality of the discussion. And as arguing on the Internet makes us all dumber, I’ll just note I had some dynamite stuff to add that’s now gone.

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