Do you know how beautiful you are?

I wonder if you know how beautiful you are. If you know, or we tell you, I wonder if you believe it.

Many times when I have told you that your are beautiful or that you are very attractive you thank me but then tell me I'm wrong. I wonder if this is just modesty or whether you really don't believe me.

As I see you coming from nowhere walking across the small street where I am driving, I stop to let you cross. I notice your breasts stretching your tight striped top. You must be confident in your body to wear such a tight t-shirt. You must like how you look. I hope you do. But you probably don't know how for one second, the sight of your breasts completely overwhelmed me. I can't tell you why my response is so strong, so powerful and so deep, but it is. It is not that I want you. I don't know you. But the sight of your breasts strikes something very deep within me.

There you are again. It's dusk now. You are walking along the other side of the main street where I am driving. It's been a glorious spring day and you are wearing a summer frock with spaghetti straps — or perhaps it was a top and you were wearing jeans. I can't remember. I do remember your bouncing breasts. Were you wearing a bra? Is it any of my business? But again, for one moment, the sight of your breasts completely overwhelmed me. Just after I pass you going in the opposite direction, I glance in the rear vision mirror, but you are gone.