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Hayley stood before the mirror, working her brush through yet more tangles in her hair. As the brush pulled free, several drops of water fell from the ends of her hair, dripping onto her shoulder and down her breast. She looked at herself in the mirror. Age 40. Assessment. She wasn't 30 anymore, or even 35. Her breasts sagged a bit, but then, 38C was a mature size. Her skin wasn't quite... well, it was just looking aged. Not old, just older. Not clouded with spots, but not blemish-free either. A stretch line here and there. It didn't bother her. If she repeated that long enough, she would believe it, surely.
Her breasts retained their roundness, however. They hadn't gone flat like some of her friends. Steven would think it an ultimate irony, she supposed... his utter fascination with her boobs compared with what she felt was her own disinterest. They were boobs. Stuff them in a bra and you're done for the day... no need to dwell on them. But still, she did so now, and although she looked fine, she didn't really want to contemplate how her body would change over the next 10 years.
The feel of Steven's hands as he grasped under her breasts caught her by surprise. His touch was familiar, weighing he breasts and kneading them softly. She hadn't heard Steven come up from behind her. But he always seemed to show up for a look and a grab whenever she was naked. That was definitely a good thing. She wouldn't want him looking elsewhere. He now looked at her nude form over her shoulder, as they both shared in her reflection in the mirror. While she didn't receive any satisfaction from being groped, his fixed interest confirmed that 15 years of marriage had done nothing to lessen his interest in her breasts.
Her thoughts were interrupted as he offered, "I think they're heavier."
She wasn't at all embarrassed at being nude in front of him, but sometimes he certainly made her feel... She wasn't sure, maybe she felt like a specimen, subject to periodic tests. She recalled a few weeks earlier when she had gotten out of the bath, dried, and stood on the scale, putting her exercise and diet to the test. He had entered the bathroom, looked briefly at the scale reading, and issued a "hmmmmm." As now, his hands cupped both her breasts, and he had raised them slightly. "Ahh, three lbs!" He then tested the measurement by releasing one breast, watching the scale adjust, switching breasts, weighing again, and confirming the total. "Nice." Whatever that meant. Was there a certain breast weight that was now in vogue? Did he hear it on the 6:00 news? Did the New England Journal of Medicine publish a study? Ok, Cosmo then? Was this the kind of thing that guys talked about when they went bowling or played golf? In which case...
"I am NOT getting on the scale." This was just plain awkward. She pulled his hands away and returned to brushing her hair. He admired her breasts a little longer as she kept her arms, and therefore, breasts, raised, while working through her last of tangles of hair.
"Sorry, I just really like holding your breasts."
"Well, Steven, it's not like I haven't told you this before. Little girls don't grow up imagining about boys groping their breasts and squeezing them like they're those foam stress relief balls. And it's not like we grow into the idea. I put up with it because I know you like it, but it doesn't do anything for me."
"Ahhh, well maybe that's it. It calms me. I'm still stressed. Can I squeeze them some more?"
She gave him a playful sneer, effectively communicating her response. "Well, at least your groping feels better than what's coming in a few weeks."
Steven immediately looked interested. "What's that?"
"My annual mammogram."
"You've never really said much about them before. Is it awkward to show your breasts to a physician?"
She considered her answer. "Well, yes, it is, and it seems like doctor's offices are always cold." She regretted giving him the mental picture he was now surely forming... Wife, half-naked, hard nipples, distinguished doctor fondling her breasts. It was time to turn him away that particular thought.
"I've done it often enough. I suppose I'm used to it, but what the test involves..."
Steven interjected, "Ah, great! So you don't mind when others see your breasts. Topless beach, here we come!"
"No, we don't. I don't think you understand what a mammogram is. So look at it this way. You're having your penis examined. A doctor, and you can choose male or female, but let's make it a female just to fit the scene, puts on a latex glove and then not just fondles your privates, but forcibly presses her fingers into your flesh, looking for anything that doesn't feel like it belongs."
"OK. Well, that would be a little different, I admit, but it sounds like something some guys would pay for."
Hayley continued. "And then, after probing firmly into your flesh, you get an x-ray. The doctor or nurse has you place your penis on, let's say a vise, and then closes the vise on you, tightening, and tightening, and tightening, and... oh dear, your balls are blue. But now that you're penis is nice and flat, hold still while they take the picture. Get the picture?"
"Ya. Sounds painful." He looked thoughtful for a minute. And how in the hell had he managed to get his hands on her tits again? She saw him looking at her in the mirror again, and he added, "But, well, see, at least exposing your breasts to others can be beneficial! You should do that more often."
He was hopeless. She vaguely recalled several times when he had asked her to flash her tits in public places, where only he could see them. She squashed the thought. "Dear, no one wants to see my breasts, and there's more practical ways of helping humanity." She released his hands and turned to get dressed. Steven remained where he had been, looking thoughtful.
She was just cutting into her filet at Ferrell's, their favorite steakhouse, when Steven asked her, "So, only one more week until your workout?" She had no idea what he was talking about. He smiled at her, "Your... ," he lowered his voice, "breast workout."
Huh? Oh! "I hope somebody sits in that booth behind us quickly, so we can drop this subject. Steven, I'm 40. I know you love my breasts, but, what happens as I move closer to 50? My skin is changing. They're going to sag more. I'm fighting stretch marks already. For fifteen years, I've been putting up with your groping. Still, I'm afraid of that day when you stop, because then I'm going to feel very unattractive. I just worry. I'm getting older. I..." Her thoughts trailed, her breasts not such a distant thought as she might of guessed in mid-life assessments. He probably touched them every day they hadn't been separated by his business travel. She looked at Steven, who suddenly looked worried, but his face quickly cleared as his eyes lowered to her breasts. She didn't even want to consider the number of men she had talked to that couldn't maintain eye contact because of her breasts. It irritated her that Steven, at times, was one of them.
"Hayley, I love you. I can't say that I don't love your breasts, because I do. But that's the point. I do love YOUR breasts, not somebody else's. For 15 years, yes, I've enjoyed you and them. They've changed from the girl of 25 to the mom at 40, but they're still wonderful. In fact, if you wanted to show them to me now..."
He inflected the "now" to a point where she couldn't tell if he was serious or joking. She chewed on a bite of steak, savoring the flavor and appearing as if she was considering the idea. She put her silverware on the table, put both hands on her lap, and looked around the booth seat down the aisle as if she was... She fixed on his eyes and gave a stern "No." Men! No, that wasn't quite it. Kids... He was a grown up kid...
Steven joined her in bed, and they cuddled. "Good luck tomorrow."
Huh? Ohhh. "Thanks, it'll be fine."
"I'm sure it will be. You've never complained about them before. I know it's just an evaluation... clinical, and all that. It's just a turn on that you're showing someone else your breasts."
Well, that wasn't quite the way she felt about it. "It's not 'showing' my breasts. It's just... necessary."
"'Necessary, ' huh?" He changed his voice to a professorial tone. "'Necessary exposure of your breasts' doesn't sound like any fun."
That got a short laugh from her. She thought for a moment. "I think you've finally gotten the point. Well, it's more fun than visiting the gynecologist." Let him chew on that.
Hayley awoke late, hazily remembering Steven's earlier departure for work. She stretched, shifted slightly, and stared upwards, her eyes trailing the slow moving blades of the ceiling fan.
She couldn't help but think about the love play that they had shared the previous night. Steven had managed to push most of the right buttons, and it had been years since he had whispered in her ear as they enjoyed, for a while, anyway, a slow pace.
.... There is more of this story ...