There’s no sex in this because it’s just a short story about something we did on our “oneymoon” (the trip you take *one* year later because you had to cut your actual honeymoon short due to an impending hurricane).
We’d always wanted to see Europe, so we booked flights and hotel for ten days in London, England. I won’t bore you with our sightseeing itinerary, but we did all the regular tourist stuff like everyone else.
The one thing that we noticed right away (me slightly before her) was that in London a lot of women went braless. I wouldn’t say it was everyone, but it did seem like it was more common than it is back in the states. By the time we passed the 30th or so girl walking by with “the girls” swaying back and forth alluringly, the back of my head started to hurt.
I tore my eyes away from the lovely sight in front of me and said “ow! you’ve been slapping me haven’t you?”
She gave me her trademark icy stare and mentioned that perhaps I ought to take a few hundred pictures as they’d last longer and she could use them as evidence in my upcoming divorce.