We used to have these girls do battle. Now, I’ve evolved into pure peace mode where I simply want to smell the flowers, err, ogle the flowers of all of them, appreciative of British funbags in a more loving and uniting manner. Sure, the notion of girls pressing the chest flesh against one another in contest is beyond tingle inducing, and to be clear, I’m still imagining that right now, but why not a world where four amazing looking beauties with supreme racks can merely laugh and giggle and occasionally pillow fight when I ring the bell of extreme happiness? I’m not sure that’s even a real question
India Reynolds, Holly Peers, Sam Cooke, and Courtnie Quinlan were kind enough to bare their heavenly wares, two by two, eight by eight, for the pure power of passion. A more benevolent motive there never was, likely never will be. Sweet hot feel good peeks. No hidden agenda save for perhaps what lay beneath the belt. This is what I mean by an all-over smile. Enjoy.
Photo Credit: Page 3
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When four ta’s go to war. Well, actually totally wonderful things happen. If only all of the world’s problems could be solved with conflict limited to pitting perfect sets of funbags up against one another. Nobody gets hurt. Everybody gets happy peeks. The Battle of the Boobtastic
remains my dream.
And speaking of dreams, what about the outrageously hot Sam Cooke throwing down the perfect teats against brunette succulent Courtnie Quinlan who has men throwing flowers in her path as she travels the streets of London. As so they both deserve. Though, today, here and now and in this place, only one of these two luscious lasses may go home the winner, the other, treated to a bath of humble. It’s up to you to decide. In your ten thousand hours of experience examining boobtastic, in your opinion, whose ta-ta’s reign supreme?
Photo credit: Page 3 Magazine
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The time has come to put aside our peace pipes for a moment to celebrate the jousting of two jaunty lasses, lovely ladies engaged in the arena of the racktastic, going nipple to nipple in the feverishly hot contest we like to call The Battle of the Boobtastic. There are no losers, only various degrees of wanton lust and epic desire. Such as all conflict should be.
This week’s entries into the mammarial battle zone are the blondishly bodacious Sam Cooke, a veteran of such chest bumps, and Mellisa Clarke, no stranger to sweater puppy street battles of hero own. Two cagy veterans, four deliciously perfect engorged funbags. It’s time for you to decide. Between these two girls I could never ever have, whose ta-ta’s reign supreme?
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It’s Battle of the Boobtastic time. That once a week epic moment when we provide the entire world the premiere roadmap for solving it’s conflicts with soft billowing boobs as opposed to all that other nonsense. This week’s BoB features the rock solid but beachy soft Lissy Cunningham and her light locks of uncovered goodness and veteran brawler Sam Cooke who can and will hold her own. As would you if those amazing yams were in your possession constantly.
But the hard choices come by way of your votes. Unlike Congressional elections, these votes really can and do count for something. Funbag supremacy for a week of cheers. Or, in the case of the loser, a week of tears. Now, you must decided between the winner and the not-winner. In your blessedly expert opinion, between these two gem stones, whose ta-ta’s reign supreme?
If only all earthly conflicts could be settled by warring tribes putting forth their finest and most fantastic funbags to settle all scores. The world suddenly becomes far more interesting. Heck I might even start exercising for real just so I can stick around longer.
This week’s Battle of the Boobtastic features Sabine Jemeljanova and Sam Cooke, two beauties of the perfect bosom I couldn’t possibly decide between myself. Thankfully, this is your weekly obligation as Egotastic readers and gentlemen of expert chestal knowledge. So, in your humble opinion, whose ta-ta’s reign supreme?
I love it when the girls get together for a little flouncy funbag in your face time. It’s the world’s least violent and most arousing competition we like to call the Battle of the Boobtastic. Two lovely ladies, four faptastic chestal fineries. One will walk away with the prize package of my earnest appreciation and un-ending desire while the other will walk away with pretty much the same.
I don’t play favorites. But in the contest of summer melons betwixt Lacey Banghard and Sam Cooke, you must do that very thing. In your talented and experienced opinion, between these two ladies of my dreams, whose ta-ta’s reign supreme?
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Four funbags enter, only two leave. It’s the rule. It’s always been the rule. It shall forever more be the rule. Each week we line up two luscious and lovely ladies with heaven sent chest puppies to compete in the Thunderdome of the hot melons. We don’t do this for sport or sheer entertainment or even prurient passion, we do it for… no, wait, those last three were the reasons. My notes got mixed up.
This week’s Battle of the Boobtastic features two women I’d gladly shove any of you out of my car on the freeway just to be alone with. Rhian Sugden, my blonde natural betty, and Sam Cooke, whose body makes me almost want to get a real job. That’s powerful on both ends of the ring. But only one woman may walk home with the trophy made entirely of expired cheese. And you must decide. Whose ta-ta’s reign supreme?
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