Thanks for all the feedback with my "Bursting Out" Stories.
I worked on this one, my experiences at the ski resort for a year since the language should be in English.
Being a young girl with big tits is my story.
Even though I am not very old, my boobs are a bigger than any of the tits on my friends.
I guess you could say that I was an early developer. I noticed this at around 11 years old because in contrast to my friends, Winnie the Pooh's ears on my pyjamas stuck out in relief - like miniature pyramids. At the same time my nipples widened and for a while encompassed the entire tips of my ice cream cone-shaped tits. During this developmental stage, I thought I was going to behold those pointy nipple-covered bumps my entire life!
By the time I was 12 Β½, however, the ice cream cones had disappeared, or rather, underwent a metamorphosis towards the more rotund forms of fruits. First they turned into pears, then apples, then grapefruits, and finally, up-turned self-supporting gourds.
Now, at 18 years old, my measurements are a bra busting 38D, 22, 32.
Yup.
Not hugely over-developed for a woman with some fleshy curves, but plenty ripe enough for a long legged skinny teenager with a bubble butt, believe me.
Being an over-developed young girl is something everyone notices, not just men. Oh no. I have been propositioned by both sexes, older people, kids, members of the church, friends and neighbours, school teachers, waiters, train conductors, policemen, and even by members of my own family β including uncles, aunts, and cousins!
Last year someone took a picture of me at the beach and the photo ended up in one of our Norwegian tabloid magazines. It was of a picture of me with my little sister, Ann Synnove putting suntan lotion on my back. The heading was "Moving into Summer Safely" and the photo was a close up emphasizing lots of cleavage and an erect nipple.
But the story I want to tell is about two incidents that happened on the same day last Easter, (PΓ₯ske in Norwegian).
I had been working up in the ski resort about 40 kilometres from our village when the ski lift operator made a pass at me. Jon was a big 35 to 40 year old outdoorsy type of guy β all bravado and muscles but his brain was probably a leftover from the duller side of the planet (if you know what I mean). In other words, he was just about capable enough to work the ski lift without getting himself hypnotized by the passing chairs.
After I had worked there about a week, I noticed that every time he took a break, he would come into the cafeteria to buy some chocolate and flirt with either me or Karianne - the other girl who worked in the cafeteria. She was 19 years old, (1 year older than me), and had incredibly good looks with blond, nearly white, straight hair parted down the middle. Typical Norwegian. (Not like me, I have brown hair).
Our similarity also included our boobs. Karriane was also well endowed despite her thinness and had big pointy breasts that pushed through her t-shirt like a Barbie doll. I guess two young girls, one blond and one brunette with big tits working together made quite a contrasting pair.
Our uniforms consisted of tight white t-shirts and jeans and during Jon's visits his eyes were constantly lowering their gaze in order to check out our tits. He was such an obvious pig in a way but we'd tease him regardless by arching our backs a little when we talked with him so he that could really get a good look at our breasts and nipples to his heart's delight. He was obviously mesmerized by what he thought was the two best stretched t-shirts in southern Norway! Yep.
I don't know why, but I had this compulsion to drive him as crazy as possible. Maybe it was a combination of my immaturity, or exhibitionist nature, or the fact that Jon was just so downright obvious in the nature of his lust that one day Karianne and I bought sleeveless singlet t-shirts. Both tops were pretty flimsy and our nipples were fairly transparent. In other words our tits were just "bursting out", (my favorite expression and the name of my two other stories at Nifty!) Perhaps it was a strange thing to wear in a ski cafeteria, but believe me, no one complained!
Anyway, the first day we were at work in our sleeveless t-shirts Jon's eyes nearly popped out of his head and the first chance he had he invited me to keep him company in the ski lift during my break. It was a small wooden booth that was both heated and quite comfortable
As the skiers went by inserting their tickets, it was his job to see that the lift was running properly and that skiers got on without any problem.
After I was inside the booth with him for a while, Jon asked if me if I wanted to come over to where he was sitting to look out the window and watch the people β perhaps I might know someone. We were higher up than everyone outside so although we could see them pretty well, they couldn't really see us. There wasn't much space between his chair and the control console, so he suggested that I kind of sit on his lap.