Diary of a Glitter Splashed Britney Lovin' Lesbo

I am a 25 year old butcheyfemme queer with rubbish on my mind and sparkles everywhere else

Name:Miss Fee


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Currently Reading:

The Outsider - A Camus

Choke - C Palahnuik


Friday, September 20

The other day I found myself strangely attracted to a ridiculously older woman. Now, I aint talking grey pubes and blue rinse old but I am talking older than I ever thought I'd look at while still under the age of 40. I know that many a person is fond of a MILF ('mother i'd like to fuck') but old age and the talc and tapered jeans and varicose veins that goes along with it isn't really something I am overly fond of. So, you can imagine my shock when, as I was pondering my life (or rather, lack of it) over a cheese scone, that I realised I wasn't looking at Sheila in a 'make my tea, mum' kind of way but more in a 'hmmm, good boobs' kind of way. Gravity had clearly not affected Sheila and the years had been kind, as had 'Wigs R Us' so I didn't feel too creeped out by the fact that I was more interested in the contents of her blouse than I was with her ability to make tea and serve cake. I think she may have been a bit freaked however as everytime I managed to life my gaze from her hefty bussom I found her staring directly at me and not in a 'aw bless, the little lesbo fancies me' way but more in a 'quit looking at my tits you little dyke' kinda way. She'd have called me queer had it not have still meant 'happy' to her. It was the longest cup of tea I ever did drink, not because Shelia kept refilling but because she'd put in scalding hot water in order to burn my taste for fish right outta my mouth. Boy did it hurt but as it meant drooling over her pert yet large breasts for even longer, I was happy. I didn;t tell anyone about Sheila, not because I'm embarrassed by my adoration of an older (NB that's OLDER not ELDERLY) woman's chest but because I didn;t want to spoil my image of Sheila and her high hair, higher boobs and even higher waisted skirts by sharing her with anyone. Apart from her boobs I can't really put my finger on what I like about her. I tried putting my finger in places I liked as she bent over to retrieve a stray tea spoon but she didn;t like it too much. Maybe it was a uniform thing. Although you'd have thought I could have choosen a uniform much cooler, like the customary policewoman or nurse uniform instead of a cream blouse, green skirt and dodgy flat shoes and not to mention the pop socks that are sure to go with such an esemble. Or maybe sometimes someone with immaculate taste like myself has to have a relapse. That's more like it. It doesn't mean that I myself am getting older and therefore must adore ancient figures and by no means does it make me sick. Really, I am no grabby grabber although sometimes I do wanna take ahold of them saggy jowls and floppy boobs and push them back to where god intended them to be. And no, that's not in my mouth.

Off I go to try not to think about never getting to see Sheila and her droopy cheeks and wrinkled hoisery ever again. And also to convince myself that it's perfectly normal to want to squeze the boobs of someone old enough to be your mother's mother.