Little Girls

 

Last night I attended The Pageant of the Masters in Laguna Beach, California. It’s a fascinating show where performers and artists recreate works of art blending live performers with intricate set stage settings. When combined with a live orchestra and narration, the productions are thoroughly entertaining.

Before the performance, I was walking through the shopping and restaurant area of Laguna showing off a bit in a tiny, crocheted boho top. It’s soft, with a small shelf bra sewn in that makes my little boobies bounce in a rhythm of bounce-jiggle/bounce-jiggle with each step. The top usually garners a bit of attention and sly glances.

As I walked, casually dodging other oncoming pedestrians, I noticed a cute freckled redhead coming towards me wearing a similar top. I laughed because her boobs were small like mine and bounced as much or more in the same rhythm. She saw me too, in an instant of recognition, and began laughing too. As we approached each other, we both slowed, staring at each other's tits, grinning.

Close now, we stopped. She looked me in the eyes and popped her hand up for a high five, which I immediately returned. We stood there for a moment before she said, matter-of-factly, “nice tits.”

I didn’t think or even glance around as people strode past us, as I lifted my top briefly, flashing my girls for her to see. She didn’t hesitate. She returned the favor and flashed her little boobs. Much to my delight, her nipples were pierced with delicate gold rings.

We both stood there, for a mere second with wide smiles, before she continued on her way, strutting happily away.

My date looked at me, shook her head, took my hand, and walked with me to the theatre.