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Tit Monday


Gaz

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Been stuck in the office all day, but I'm planning on walking home to the West End instead of getting the tube today. I hope I'm not too late

If it gets cooler later on, think of all that nipple action.

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Ah, Tit Monday. That glorious day when, heading into work, school or Uni, you find yourself suddenly chirpier than you have been in months. You find yourself smiling at strangers again. There is a mild involuntary tumescence in your trousers that comes and goes throughout the morning with the comforting regularity of a heartbeat.

And then you get a text around lunchtime from a mate which says: "At last, Tit Monday!" And you instantly understand why you are so happy. For Tit Monday is that special day in the year when, for the first time, the temperature rises above that magical point which causes girls getting dressed in the morning to decide to show a bit of skin. After months of dull colours and chunky knit, the world's birds suddenly dive into last summer's wardrobe (they've not had chance to buy this season's stuff) and chuck it on without a thought. Your urban landscape is suddenly lightened with acres of naked arm and leg and, after many dark months of burrowing, breasts rising to the surface like moles at dusk.

Big breasts in white work shirts straining at the buttons. Small breasts braless in vest tops, the nipples frotted by ribby fabrics. Breasts in summer dresses bouncing in the distance so that they catch your eye before you even notice there is someone wearing them. Breasts nudging out from the crowd at traffic islands, quivering to cross the road... and you know it is nearly summer.

For previous generations, the arrival of spring was heralded by the sound of the first cuckoo. For us, it is Tit Monday. Some fall into the trap of declaring this glorious day prematurely - they can smell the fresh cut grass and seen a couple of early starters and felt compelled to declare Tit Monday. But more level-headed observers will tell you to hold your horses, keep your powder dry, don't fire until you see the whites of their bra straps

As the poet said: one bold slapper with her tits armed up to her chin doth not a summer make.

Happy Tit Monday!

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  • 1 year later...

I was going to bump this tomorrow as well!

With temperatures due to hit 20C in Falkirk (was 19C today in the afternoon) surely tomorrow's the day!

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There was an old bloke who used to sell the Evening Times in Glasgow City centre about 20 years ago. I think his pitch might have been on Buchannan Street (or possibly Renfield St). Anyway, my mate was convinced he was shouting TIIIIIIITS!. Given his vantage point, this seems quite feasible when you think about it.

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I was thinking about this yesterday, there was some magnificent tits on display but I wasn't sure if it was officially Tit Monday yet. Surely it would be some kind of record for the earliest?

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