The Girls.

The second most NWS part of my body.

They're different; the left one is bigger and the right one is pinker. They have areolae so white they're almost invisible. You can see a tiny mark on the left nipple from where Jon did something extremely mean and nasty to it. The first time a boy was mean to my breasts (at my request), they had little black scabs in all the cracks afterwards. It was terrible. That hasn't happened much since; I think I've toughened 'em up. It'll make breastfeeding easier someday.

I never know if they're pretty to other people or not. People sleeping with me say they are, but gosh, they would say that; people who aren't sleeping with me don't have social licence to comment.

And they're sensitive. I don't think you can make me come by playing with my breasts, but you can certainly make me enjoy life. Thrust your cock between them and I'll be moaning almost as good as you. Brush a fingertip across one and I'll shudder; grab one hard and rough and I'll gasp. I can show you how hard to squeeze the nipple to find that perfect edge between "ah, ow, ah" and "OW DAMMIT." And if you totally ignore me and go right past the dammit until you decide I've had enough, I might love you that much more.

If I'm on top during sex they're going to bounce everywhere. That embarasses me sometimes, because I'm stupid enough to think you wouldn't like that. They should stay perfectly fixed on my chest? That would be sexy? I think silly things sometimes.

Once I had to run down seven flights of stairs with no bra. That wasn't sexy at all.