I was on a bus today when some nearby cleavage caught my gaze. Proper bloke that I am, I paused to have a butchers at it before glancing at the owner's face (I guess she was about mid-forties), and it was at this point I relaised something just wasn't adding up. The cleavage was deep and split a pair of perfectly good, fresh looking tits, however, the woman's mug left a lot to be desired - wrinkly, troubled, uncared for.
I repeated the observation process a few times - cleavage, face, cleavage, face - and each time it felt like I was looking at two different people. What was her story? Had she intended to have everything renovated only to run out of funds before getting started on the roof, or had the hardships of life only affected her boat and left the chest area unscathed?
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