Once upon a time, in a land not so very far away, there was a magical garden tended by Sire. Sire’s expertise in the garden was such that people used to say his green thumb extended right to his shoulder. The garden belonged to the king of the land who, much to his misfortune, married Googleless, the wicked, but buxom, witch.
Like all wicked witches Googleless was vain and her particular vanity extended to her well endowed breasts, which she maintained firm and sag free with her wicked magic. Every night as she sat topless combing her long jet black hair, she would croon to her magic mirror;
Magic Mirror on the wall
Who has the best titties of the all?
And the magic mirror would reply;
Oh Googleles, Queen so fair
Your titties are the best, beyond compare.
To which the witch queen would cackle with delight.
Now, Sire, once a royal knight of old, never liked the king’s choice of a bride, but what could he do for he was a king after all and wanton to have his way. The queen didn’t much like Sire either, most likely because of his closeness to the king, and so she made things difficult for him. Sire however, put up with her crap as he figured that the 4 weeks holiday with the 17.5% loading was well worth the irritation. Besides, he much rather tend the magical garden that joust or fight fire breathing dragons.
One day it got so bad that Sire thought it was time for payback. Knowing of her boob fixation he used all his skills to shape one of the bushes in the garden into the most luscious, titillating breasts that he could ever have imagined.
That night as the wicked witch queen sat brushing her hair, her full breasts staring at her in the mirror;
Mirror Mirror on the wall
Who has the best titties of them all?
To which the mirror replied;
Oh Googleless, Queen so fair
There are better titties than your luscious pair.
Googleless stopped mid stroke, her jaw dropped and the blood drained from her face, but only for a moment, for before you could say Google Slap, her face went red with rage and she let out a tirade of abuse that scorched the gold flakes from the mirror’s frame.
Once she calmed down she compelled the mirror to reveal whose breasts could possible be better than her own. So it was that she learned of Sire’s magical bush. “A bush,” she screams. How can a bush be better than these tits of mine, which are real and silicon free. (Reckon she must have forgotten about the magic she’s been using the vain bitch)
It was then that the mirror showed her Sire’s marvelous creation, and when she saw that they were truly better than her own she had a heart attack and died.
Upon her death a dark veil was lifted from that not so far off land, yet none but Sire knew the part that the boob bush had to play. All that people knew of the bush was that it was truly beautiful and that anyone who rubbed the leafy nipple would find good fortune. No doubt a myth that was started by the mischievous Sire.
Well, I sure hope you liked that short story, but you know it wasn’t completely fictitious. The boob bush did actually exist in my garden and I did actually tell my neighbors that I rubbed it everyday for luck. They loved it and thought the bush was a scream. Not so much the wife though. She wasn’t too impressed about having a boob with a huge nipple in her front garden. After constant nagging I decided, for the sake of some peace and quiet, that I would change the shape of the bush until it looked like the photo below.
You don’t see the boob? Use your imagination guys to remove the wart on the nipple.
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