Tits

Tits

(This post was first written in the Spring of 2008)

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I’ve changed my mind. I have decided to start a post tonight after all. It has been a long and somewhat frustrating day, very mundane and tedious. Grocery shopping, fighting with parking attendants and rude women tutting at me at the supermarket – goodness only knows why. So to ensure that I sleep soundly, for I am now convinced that there is a deep and meaningful correlation between my sexual satisfaction and sleep, I will write. And yes, bizarre as it sounds, I do get sexual satisfaction when Zenpuss puts fingers to keyboard and let’s her imagination flow, to the best of her limited ability.

Today, the subject is tits; big, juicy, boobs, knockers, jugs, whatever you like to call them. I am going to talk about tits, about my own, other peoples and the fascination that the world seems to have with tits.

I was in a shop today, looking at some chocolates. A huge variety, all carefully manufactured to entice and lure the customer into choosing more than they intended. There were some interesting plump, spherical chocolates with a pink icing at the centre. I passed them by. A family stood next to me and the bloke said, “Blimey, they look like boobs!” His two teenage daughters and his wife were horrified at his proclamation, and sternly criticised him for airing his opinion. I, on the other hand, decided to help the poor bloke out, and told the family in a jocular way that I too had thought they looked like boobs. The mother then looked at me, in slight awkwardness but still jokingly, stating that she could understand a bloke coming out with a comment like that but was surprised a woman had thought a similar thing.
Oh dear! Found out! Alert, alert! Sexual weirdo in the shop! Woman who mentions tits! A woman who sees something sexual in a poor innocent ball of chocolate! Whoops!
Well, now you come to mention it, I can think of something very sexual indeed to do with little balls of chocolate!

Seriously though, this woman – the mother, epitomises the sort of pent up inability to think let alone speak out about something sexual in public. She looked a modern, trendy type of 40 something woman and I honestly didn’t think she would be remotely shocked by my comment. Surely she must have looked at the sweets, and seen a certain resemblance to a pert pair of tits with a protruding nipple discreetly blobbed on the top? I think she did see what her husband saw, but as a woman, she couldn’t say it. Wouldn’t be right. Wouldn’t be proper or appropriate. Leave it to the loony. I bet she thought I was coming on to her husband too for that matter.
And I think this links with previous blogs about women just not been sexually liberated, not being in touch with their own sexuality and the obvious sexuality that is screaming out of various subliminal places if you choose so to interpret. Alternatively, of course, I am a raving nymphomaniac who sees sex in everything. Not so, I am afraid.

So let us consider tits. Let us think about how this woman who I met today might think about tits. Let us see whether I have a point to all of this.

Girls, at an early age, are quite interested in the changes and developments to their own body and those of their counterparts. The first girl in the class to have the chest growth spurt is considered to be the most mature, irrespective of her emotional or intellectual maturity. Others are in awe and somewhat envious of this onset of womanhood. She gains a status in the group, and others wait in eager anticipation to join her. Yes, boobs are a serious status symbol at this point in life. In the shower at school, in changing for PE lessons, girls do look at one another and discover how their bodies are developing in comparison to their peers. I would go as far as saying that there is an instinctual directive that tells us, allows us to look at other people’s bodies at this point in life, and it is perfectly normal. So when does it change from a healthy interest in puberty to something more intimate, more unnatural, less socially acceptable? When, as women, do we learn that looking at boobs is not appropriate behaviour? Because this does happen. Over a short period of time, we go from looking and wondering to shying away at the first opportunity. In the case of PE lessons, we clasp that towel to our bodies, as we try and manoeuvre the 30 inch double A bra around the circumference of our bodies, still clutching to the towel which is strategically placed to conceal our upper bodies. And the angst if mother has packed a towel that is handkerchief sized so you have to almost double up into the foetal position to simultaneously hide your fanny with its little glimmering of pubic growth. This change happens subliminally, but somewhere young women are already picking up a sign that a) you should not reveal your tits to the world and b) if someone accidentally drops their towel before the bra is secured in place, you certainly shouldn’t be looking.
And what does this start to tell us about how women perceive their bodies, and what does this tell us about tits?

Well, I guess it tells us the following.
Tits are a sign of development. They are a sign of womanhood. They are a sign that we are moving from one stage of life to another. And as that stage moves forward, we learn to conceal our boobs because that is the socially acceptable thing to do. By concealing them, they become something private, something possibly sexual, something that suddenly becomes a taboo. The unspoken.
And young women are already in a learning curve that tells them to not think about tits, not look at them, and certainly don’t reveal them. Yet, there is an interesting paradox taking place at exactly the same time. The fashion industry then manufactures clothes that are revealing, that require bra removal to wear the products that sexualises our bodies at, quite frankly, too young an age. On the one hand, you have so –called ‘normal’ society directing young women to just pretend that boobs are not there and on the other hand, persuading them to be as sexually precocious as possible in the manner of their attire. Is it any wonder that we have such mixed up views about sexuality, about what is appropriate and acceptable, about what is allowed and what is unmentionable?

Same as periods, same as fannies. Our societal taboos are really detrimental to a woman’s understanding and appreciation of their own sexuality. No wonder, we cannot talk about sex. Maybe the whole thing is a misogynist directive, ensuring that all women are subservient to the men folk of their society, but that is probably a little over the top. Who knows? It is just a thought.

So here we have it. Women, who are a developing an unhealthy disinterest in boobs. You start with a serious interest in having a look, and gradually, through various societal messages, you are reminded that women do not look at other women, unless of course, they are raving dykes.

Well, I am here to say that I do not have lesbian tendencies. I have stated before that I am a fond ‘consumer’ of the cock. It fills me, satisfies me, stimulates me. I want cock deep inside me, penetrating the sensual parts of my body that respond so effectively to its touches. Yet, I think, retrospectively, I have always had an interest in the shape of other women’s bodies, maybe not in a sexual way, but I have always had the ability to look at a woman and appreciate the aesthetics of a rounded, sexual body. And whilst looking at a beautiful woman, your eyes are naturally drawn to the shape of their body, the curvature of their breasts. This genuinely doesn’t have to be a sexual thing, merely an appreciation of the female form. But surely, I hear you say, that if you are looking at a woman like that then there has to be a sexual entity to it? Well possibly that is so. Maybe, I have always looked at women’s bodies and seen it sexually, wishing that I felt that sexual about myself. Maybe I have always looked at women’s bodies and contemplated touching them, feeling around the outer edges of the boobs, thought about tracing my finger in a circular motion around the side of the breasts, spiralling them in towards the nipples. In truth, I just don’t know. I do not know whether this is what has been happening to me all of my life. What I do know is that in my blossoming epoch of current sexual growth, I can see a very clear and definite sexual pleasure in viewing other women’s tits. And I have thought about this. Maybe, through learning and appreciating my own sexuality, I have discovered a love of the beauty in other people’s sexuality. Maybe, I have learned to enjoy looking at tits as a means of understanding a sexual partner’s interest in boobs. Maybe I have been suppressing a desire all of this time. Maybe I have suddenly remembered the times in the past, when I have felt a stirring within my pussy at a picture of a naked woman. It doesn’t really matter how I came to this understanding. The fact is this – I do like looking at women’s tits. I like the vast differences in their shape, their voluptuousness, their position in relation to the rest of the torso. I like seeing women holding their tits, proudly showing that they are sexual beings with wonderful, powerful assets that delight so many. I like to see good, strong, protruding nipples that stick out eager to be touched, licked, fondled. I like the beauty of a woman’s form and I like to see what it is about this that is so appealing to a heterosexual man.

Furthermore, there are times when I want to touch tits. I want to feel the fullness of them in my hands, just in the same way that a partner feels mine. I can appreciate my own tits and their significance to my partners if I have experience of another woman’s tits in my hand. And that is good. Tits are good. Tits are incredibly beautiful. They epitomise womanhood. Sexuality. Lust.
Confession time here. I used to hate people touching my tits. I loathed a sexual partner touching them sensitively. I was happy for them to grab them but not to gently stimulate the nipple.
But this has changed. I want my partners to feel the weight of them in their hands. I want them to suck hard on the side of the boob. I want them to lick my entire boob, moving their tongue around and around as they progress towards the centre, taking my ample nipple in the mouth and pulling it into an erect state. I want them to blow on it, to sensualise it. I want them to take photographs of them. I want them to gain the greatest excitement of undoing my bra and revealing these big, buxom breasts. I want to feel cock between by boobs. I want him to slap his cock in my cleavage, pushing either breast towards the middle, so that his cock is stimulated by the mass of boob either side, and he can slide in and out, revealing a head of luscious cock as he moves.
I want to taste tits. I want to lick all around and move towards the nipple, I want to push the nipple around in my mouth, circling and sucking, creating climax for a partner. I want to push myself down on a woman so that our boobs are compressed together, so that our nipples clash against one another, so that they kiss together in a height of sexual stirrings. I want to hold tits and caress them whilst the rest of my body is in close proximity to pussy. I want to have my tits held and kissed by a woman. I want to offer my tits to be sucked with a vigour and urgency by two people simultaneously. I want to have someone touching my tits whilst I am being carefully fucked by a huge and horny cock. I want someone to watch my tits bouncing up and down as I am fucked from behind, watching them sway in time to the thrusting motion of that cock sliding in and out of my body. And I want cum all over my tits. Cum that splashes and sensationalises the nipples that can be smothered and spread across my tits.
I want you to read this and desperately want my tits in your face right now. I want you to think about touching them, holding them, wishing for them to be near you right now.
You can just imagine how wet my cunt is as I write. Very, very juicy.

Tits. Good, wholesome tits.

Tits are incredibly important. I haven’t even mentioned their absolute significance biologically, possibly because I wasn’t too good at it. However, there is a huge significance in that as soon as a baby is born, it is the boob that is required before all else. The boob is the first point of contact for all of us, man or woman as we arrive in this world, ready, lactating, eager to serve. Maybe this is why instinctively, we have a love of boobs whether we choose to suppress it or not.

And now for my boobs. They have been through various stages of progression. They have been small and useless sized and they have been enormous, useless sized too! We joked at school and took the pencil test. I failed, unable to hold the aforementioned writing implement underneath my tit. There wasn’t enough of it to retain it in position. And then they grew, possibly with the weight gain and development of the rest of my body. And they began to blossom. I actually needed to wear a bra then. And I liked their growing voluptuousness.
After giving birth, they obviously grew. They were like footballs rather than discusses. They had a strength in their size. And now they have settled to be a basic, average size – comfortably shaped in the context of the rest of my body. I’m not happy with them. I cannot yet see their beauty. I can feel their fullness but in all honesty, they are nothing special. They would not necessarily have appeal on a porn site. They are just basic forty year old boobs with rather flat nipples. Yet, I am very aware that other people appreciate them, possibly because they are mine rather than for their generic aesthetical beauty. And that is positive. I am honoured and delighted that other people look at my boobs and get a satisfaction from them. And that has an extremely positive effect on my psyche.
And everything that I mentioned before about sucking, licking, sharing boobs, well, I am glad that others get off on my tits. I love the fact that what I wrote previously about what I wanted has actually taken place. I have had my tits caressed and fondled by man and woman. I have enjoyed the kisses that start on the mouth, work their way down my neck towards my tits. I have felt the eternal joy of having two people sitting in front of me, each having one of my tits in their mouths, me straddling them and leaning back in the sheer, unadulterated joy of being sucked and fondled by two simultaneously. I have had someone grab my tits with utter urgency as he feels the warmth of my gushing cum soak his cock and balls as he slides in and out of my juicy cunt.
They are here, ready and waiting for a return visit.

So to end. Finally back to the start of this epic piece of writing. The wife in the shop. I wonder whether she has experienced some of the things I have discussed. Does this notion of tits resonate with her? Surely she remembers what it was like as a teenager with flourishing developments in herself and her peers? Did she actually stop seeing beauty and sexuality in boobs? I somehow doubt it.
Come on girls. Let’s be positive about our bodies. Let us celebrate that we have sensational bodies that need to be seen as wonderful entities by all. Let us liberate ourselves and be proud of our sexuality and let us now allow it to be exploited by others. Let us take control of women’s sexuality once and for all, and girls, that means being a little more honest about what turns us on, including tits.

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