Mount Titerest

The lengths American women will go to present a perfect bosom.

“Shoot, they’re out of stock,” Desiree told Prima as the pals cruised aisle 8 in CVS. “They told me the Hollywood Breast Lift Tape would be in today!”
Prima offered what comfort she could. “Desiree, Lawson will jump your bones regardless of flop sweat. You don’t need to climb Mount Titerest. Remember how it used to be when you were first hooking up.”
“Right,” Desiree countered smugly, “He loved my big mama foomfy teats.”

“Nipple rouge is a thing, isn’t it?” teenager Sally shyly asked Mother Goose, pulling her away from the other kids at St. Catherine’s Center for Youth. “’Cause Jayden and I have a date for the walk-in later and I just feel… too pale.”
“No worries, hon, we don’t have to scale Mount Titerest,” said Mother Goose. She prided herself on her ability to “relate.” “I have some frozen raspberries I’ve been saving for the right moment. You’ll taste good, too!”

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