I occassionally receive questions regarding Miss Audrey’s Perfect Breasts. Some feel that they might be too amazing to be real. Having spent many hours buried in the Mounds of Audrey, I know them to be Natural Wonders.
But, it never hurts to check again.
So lying in bed with my own Buttercup, I pressed the tip of my nose into her nipple, tentatively at first, then burying the whole of my face in her chesticle. I rolled from cheek to cheek, and then repeated with her other one.
“What are you doing?” she asked, looking at me as if I had landed from Neptune. I get this question a lot, and yet the circumstances often differ so widely that no stock answer suffices.
“Testing.”
She smiled, bemused, and explained, “They’re still real.”
Yes, they are. Still real, and so perfect.
But, it never hurts to check again.
So lying in bed with my own Buttercup, I pressed the tip of my nose into her nipple, tentatively at first, then burying the whole of my face in her chesticle. I rolled from cheek to cheek, and then repeated with her other one.
“What are you doing?” she asked, looking at me as if I had landed from Neptune. I get this question a lot, and yet the circumstances often differ so widely that no stock answer suffices.
“Testing.”
She smiled, bemused, and explained, “They’re still real.”
Yes, they are. Still real, and so perfect.





