Few things in life are more frustrating than unwrapping a pair of basset hound titties. Especially after they've been expertly packaged and you're anticipating a something spectacular. I actually feel sorry for girls with droopy knockers - it must be a huge source of insecurity and rightly so. But being confronted by a set of buddha boobs is like receiving an ugly sweater from your grandparents on Christmas when you're a child - you try desperately hard to appear enthusiastic because you don't want to hurt their feelings, but it's impossible to completely hide your disappointment.
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