Taking What You Want

Taking What You Want

By Honey Moon

Molly Sinclair watched the sweet young thing jog by, just like she did every day for the past week. Who did that slender little sandy haired minx think she was? With that petite young body and those adorable little teacup breasts, did she think it was proper to flaunt herself like that?

Bra-less, she persisted in wearing tee-shirts obviously bought in some department store's children's department. They fit her like a second skin, riding up to reveal the luscious little divot of her navel. Her delectable little titties bounced and jiggled with each footfall. All male eyes were on those perfect nipples. The firm little nubs were like thumb tips, there for all to see and admire under the snug thin cotton.

She clearly had no manners. Just because you were an “A” cup, if that, was no reason to put yourself on display! Just look at that tiny little apple-cheeked ass! Could she wear her itty-bitty shorts any tighter? The girl was a shameless tease!

Molly snorted when she saw the diminutive doll turn at her usual spot and head back to her uptown apartment. That huge leather belly bag she habitually wore looked downright tacky. Why the hell did she wear such a monstrosity, while wearing color coordinated elbow length opera gloves? It was August, for God's sake! The slip of a girl wasn't even sweating!

She wore one of those new Sony Walkman cassette players on the strap of her large low riding belly bag. The headphones were almost lost in the deliberate shock of messy hair that no doubt cost a fortune to keep looking that gorgeous.

Why did the little whore persist in trying to pass for a child? Molly had almost been fooled into thinking she was ten or eleven years old, until just the other day. She saw the diminutive woman slip into a liquor store after her afternoon jog. The little thing became quite argumentative when the shop-keeper refused to sell her a rather nice bottle of white Zinfandel, and threatened to call the police.

The tiny woman became frantic! She begged the shop keeper to call detective Kelly McMahon if he had to call anyone.

Molly managed to hear the shop-keeper apologizing profusely when the female cop finally arrived. She had assured him that the ID was not a forgery, and the tiny woman was in fact, twenty-five! Too bad Molly had been too far away to hear the little slut's name as the rather pretty plain clothes cop scolded her for about twenty minutes and took away the wine she had finally been permitted to purchase. No matter. She knew the cock-tease's address now.

Something had to be done about this little tramp. Molly didn't care for men, but thought it shocking that the slender waif teased and taunted them everywhere she went. She always dressing like a child, while displaying her perfect little titties to the world!

Today was going to be the day! The nearly seven foot tall statuesque blonde left the park. She was oblivious to the amazed stares at her magnificent breasts. Molly wasn't quite sure of her size, since she relied on custom made brassieres to give her massive orbs the proper support they needed. No store or catalog service anywhere had anything around the “G” range in stock.

She cut through Central Park in order to get to the child-woman's apartment. As she hurried along, a young punk stepped directly into her path.

“Yo babe!” He shouted as he stared at her abundance. He sang in a fairly good Elmer Fudd impression. “Where's your spear and magic helmet?”

“What?” Molly asked, clearly puzzled.

“Come on, babe. Is the opera in town? You look like queen of all the vikings! Fuck the singing! Show me those massive fun-bags! I'd love to lay my cock between them and give you a pearl necklace!”

Molly grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. The young man struggled, but Molly's curves hid muscles a man would envy.

“Do not waste my time, little man!”

She gave the arm a little more pressure, and the punk started moaning.

“Babe, uh, lady! Miss! Ms? I, I was just fooling!”

She shoved him aside and went on her way.

“Oh shit.” The guy gasped while he rubbed his nearly dislocated shoulder. “What a waste! Tits like that on a damn bull-dyke!”

Molly felt anger rising within her. If she wasn't in a hurry, that horse's ass would have had a br

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