Monday, 25 February 2008

I have breasts. They're awesome.

Breasts are pretty. All sorts. Even man-breasts, usually. The good-looking ones are usually called "pecs," but they've got fat and they've got milk glands.

Mine are exquisitely sensitive. Not just the nipple but the whole damn thing, from the corner up in my armpit down to the base. My nipples have been bitten so hard they bled and liked it; they've been barely brushed with a fingertip and liked it.

They're slightly scarred from being bitten and clamped and fingernailed too hard, but you'd have to look very closely to notice. Maybe breastfeeding will be easier for me, someday; there certainly won't be any "just wait til they toughen up" period because after having unpadded alligator clamps yanked straight off, my tits are pretty fucking tough.

I have average-size breasts, I think. They're not well matched; Righty's a B and Lefty's nearly a C, which probably doesn't meet anybody's beauty standards, but I've noticed that once men actually get them in their hands they don't tend to criticize. Maybe they're just being polite.

Because of his smallness, Brandon can suck my nipples while he's fucking me. Jon can only pinch them--but he does, and hard, and I love it. Having my nipples pinched really hard (nope, harder than you're thinking, seriously, hard, if you aren't a little worried they might come off it's not hard enough) just as I'm coming is one of the best feelings I know.

They sell ridiculously "enhancing" bras at the lingerie shop, enough gel and padding to make me a believable D, and to be honest they look great with a shirt on, but I don't quite see the point, because if the aim of the things is to get me laid... it would be pretty damn embarrassing to pick up a guy with my "enhancements" and then take them off in front of him.

Of course there's another way to enhance but I don't much like the idea of general-anesthesia prosthetic surgery as a cosmetic. I've felt fake breasts and they're not all soft and squooshy like mine; they feel like something swollen, like a giant pimple that you hope to God doesn't pop. And you're risking loss of sensation. I wouldn't give up the feeling of lips (or alligator clamps) on my tits for anything.

Also, fake boobs tend to look absolutely bizarre to me; to say that the ideal breast is a taut sphere is as unnatural as saying it should be shaped like a firetruck. I've read that there are natural teardrop-shaped implants on the market but they don't sell as well because women want people to know that they've had the surgery done. It seems sad that someone would have a sexual preference for a look that can only be created through major surgery.

Several women in my family, including my mother, have had breast cancer. I'm supposed to get tested for the gene but I keep putting it off. My breasts are so great I want to have them forever. I guess wanting it doesn't make it true though.

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