Breasts. Teats. Cans. Ta-tas. Chi Chis. Bazookas. Funbags. The Twins. Racks. Boobs. We've got more names for female mammary glands than eskimos have for the word snow. Why is that? Because eskimos are stupid and boobs are supreme.
Add them to the list of Essential Life Items. Is there really a question why they shouldn't be on the list? Not really. But let's explore the wonderful world of lady lumps.
From the earliest days of our mammal life we are exposed to the soft tender nuances of the teat and are rewarded with mother's milk. There are psychiatric types that will argue it's this oral "tug and pull" that causes some individuals to manifest Oedipal complexes later in life or develop oral fixations like smoking or giving BJs. But I say to hell with them! I love smoking. I love boobs. And BJs... well I don't give them, but I wouldn't turn one down if offered.
For the male species, breasts are the Mount Everest of our machismo conquest of total world domination. The exception is there's no sherpa to guide us through the pitfalls of leaving base camp. So, we must go the adventure alone, traversing the bra to ascend atop the areolae where we can plant our flag. There is nothing like laying your head between two supple, soft breasts. It's the warmest and safest place on earth.
Ask any man what was the first pair of boobs he saw (in real life, not in a magazine or TV) and he can tell you the story. I was eleven and her name was Pearl. Yeah, the name conjures up some old granny knitting a sweater with her saggy boobs contoured by her mumu dress. But not my Pearl. She was the nice thirty-something Filipino that babysat my brother and I that Summer. Asian boobs! How about that for a first? I was sitting in her house eating my breakfast of pancakes while my brother watched He-Man cartoons. I was finishing up my pancakes when the pangs of having to urinate hit me. I jumped from the table and headed down the hallway to the bathroom.
I was passing Pearl's bedroom when I noticed the door wasn't fully closed. Temptation like searching for hidden Christmas gifts overtook me and I peered inside. What I got was the most glorious sight any man (or eleven boy) could ever wish for. Pearl, with her back to me, was clothed only on the bottom portion of her asian fit body. And it was in the mirror, as she was getting herself ready, that I caught sight of those magnificent boobs! Her filipino, bronze skin and her mounds of lovely lady flesh exposed in the reflection of the mirror. Like some sort of Freudian tic, I involuntary began to lick my lips like a cat lapping up milk. That's when she noticed me peeping at her from the mirror. Knowing she caught me spying on her I remained paralyzed with fear. Pearl then turned around giving me a frontal, live view of her lovely tatas. We stood there silently for an eternity. Her wondrous, firm asian breasts exposed to me like beautiful beckoning orbs. They spoke to me, but only in my head. "Come to us. Touch us. Love us." Oh and how I did love them (and to this day I still do, their image burned in my libido forever). My mouth salivated. And then she broke the silence with, "Can you close the door, please?" I obliged. And that was the first time I saw a pair of boobs.
Breasts are magic. Plain and simple. They make men do the strangest things. We go absolutely cuckoo over them. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Sure, guys will try to distinguish themselves as either an "ass man" or a "boob man". I don't believe there is such thing. There might be some guys that say they don't like a juicy butt on a woman. But offer a guy some boob and see if he turns it down.
And so we'll leave it at that.... and this gratuitous video of a water balloon and a pair of nice boobs via Ultraslo.
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