Boobies on the beach

I am not a prude.

I like a good pair of knockers as much as the next hot bloodied, sex obsessed, virile middle aged perv.

However a line needs to be drawn somewhere.

Topless bathing is not permitted on Malta, in fact I think I am correct in saying that it is an offence punishable by law. Some may argue that this is too draconian and that in a more liberal age laws should be tolerant. The dirty old man in me quite agrees and indeed applauds such a notion until, that is I take my wife and 9 year old daughter to the beach. Suddenly it becomes a whole different debate.

Now at this point I would like to interject to comment that under normal circumstances the presence of topless women isn’t a problem. After all most of them are either grossly overweight Germans or old, skinny Germans whose breasts have gone the way of the dried prune long ago. While I have nothing against Germans (with the exception of those years between 1914-1918 and 1939-1945); the women really need to learn how much more appealing it is if they shave their armpits, legs and bikini regions… nuff said.

Recently I took the family to Golden Bay. The sun was shining, the weather hot and the beach full of happy people. There was the odd kraut sitting about with their hairy bits out but as stated above I could cope with that.

The situation became critical however when the lady to our right suddenly decided to take off her top and shorts. Let me tell you… hairy German she was not. Shapely figure, thong, breasts the size of melons and nipples like dockworkers thumbs. ‘Holy crap’ thought I… ‘quick look the other way and pretend you didn’t notice’. Damn… sitting to my left was an even hotter specimen in a white topless-thong ensemble. Bigger funbags too. ‘Look straight ahead… look straight ahead… maybe the wife won’t notice… oh crap…’ Right in front of me a girl with an ass the size of Brazil stood up and yes you guessed it… topless with a red thong. Worse still, because of the size of her posterior, what little bit of thong there was had been swallowed up by her ample flesh. I may be wrong but I believe the term is camel toe?

It didn’t end there but fortunately for me my wife has a sense of humour and secondly I had a rather large book on tax and financial planning in which to bury my head. What a relief. In the end it was better than a cold shower.

As mentioned in ‘About’ I have a love of cartooning and so here is a quick doodle of my day at the beach. I’m out of practise so please be kind.

Freddy