Page 59 of Hooking a Hottie

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My days of worrying about my boobs and bra and all that were far behind me.

Especially after having a child and gravity flirting with me in an inevitable way.

I touched my stomach and swallowed hard.

There were more curves to my body now than…

When, Sage? Huh? What timeframe are you exactly comparing yourself to right now?

I clenched my teeth together tight.

I had no clue what I was doing right then but I couldn’t stop myself.

Small, scar-like ripples of stretch marks tattooed my stomach.

Not really visible unless you were looking hard enough.

My belly button had been a proper O shape, but was more of a standing oval.

My hips were round.

That part I never figured out.

It just sort of happened and stayed like that.

My panties were black.

Boring

No frills. No lace. No sexy design.

Just boring, old mom panties.

I looked at the door and swallowed hard.

I shook my head.

The door was locked.

I was alone.

I needed to get dressed.

For a funeral.

For my grandfather’s funeral.

I reached back and twisted the clasp on my bra.

The hooks gave way too easily, proving that this was indeed my favorite one to wear.

As I tossed my bra to the bed I caught myself looking in the mirror again.

This time at my bare breasts.

While my nipples didn’t exactly point forward and up a little, I still thought everything looked great. I arched my back a little and took a deep breath. Staring at my body in the mirror.

Fighting my imagination from going too far…

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