HOMELY BUT WELL-DEVELOPED, Geraldine was one of those girls who gets tits in the fourth grade, and by the time she's twelve every sixth-grade boy's eye was permanently glued to her generous torso. I copped my first feel off of Geraldine, bless her slow, bovine little heart. This memorable rite of passage took place on an end-of-term hayride (itchy, sneezy straw, really) the whole noisy load of adolescents slowly dragged on a flatbed trailer behind a tractor driven by some long-suffering parent. What really happened was that I accidentally brushed my hand over her breast, followed by the electric realization that I had touched a female knocker! She gave no sign of realizing that I had gotten to second base with her, and in retrospect, perhaps I hadn't. It didn't really feel much like solid flesh, rather airy and light-like a puffed-up bunch of dress, really. Well, I got a lot of fantasy mileage out of Geraldine's big boobs, and I felt like more of a man after that, no matter what actually went on. I'll always have a warm spot in my heart for big, plain Geraldine: thanks for the mammaries.
May 24, 1994
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