Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Inspired


“What should I write about today”, I asked.
“Boobs”, she texted back.

I thought about it for a moment and responded that her wish was my command.

“I was joking”, she responded.
“I know”, I said, “but it’s happening now”.

So boobs, breasts, mammary glands, fun bags, tits, tatas, a rack, melons, gazongas, boobies, titties, pillows and of course, knockers.

I like the female form; I’m a fan of breasts. I’ve always been a leg man for sure but it’s always complimented by a pair of fine breasts. The shape of a woman is important to me in the most superficial way possible. It seems shallow to say that, however, evolution has designed me to select mates that will best carry my seed and have the best likelihood of survival based on physical features. So I’m engineered to find certain aspects of the female form appealing. That includes a nice pair of breasts.

I remember the first breasts I saw as a very young man at the barber shop. I had accidentally grabbed a Penthouse magazine off the magazine shelf. I was probably five or six years old and my father and my barber watched with hilarious fascination as my expression turned from mild curiosity to complete and utter shock. I can still see them laughing their asses off as I fumbled with the excessive sexuality of this magazine.  Those S.O.B.’s.

It did however put me on the path to enjoying the beauty of the female form. It may seem funny to sexualize breasts so very much. I mean they perform such a necessary function for child rearing but seem to have an aura of mystery about them as well. When women show just the right amount of cleavage the world suddenly becomes their oyster and men their playthings. Free drinks, sure! Appetizer? Sure! Hail you a cab? Absolutely! Love me forever? Where are you going baby?

Helen of Troy may have had a face that launched a thousand ships, but it was her likely beautiful rack that thousands of men died for. Men are funny when if comes to the admiration of the breast. We try very hard not to look when the situation requires us not to and I will admit that at times it’s incredibly difficult. Especially with some of the fine business attire some women wear. I do my best to show women the proper respect, however, we men are cads and we will look at your breasts. We’ll curiously wonder what they look like unrestrained by the various support garments they hide beneath, what they feel like and if touching them would actually be pleasurable for her.

It seems so crazy that one sex’s body part (parts I suppose) has such incredible power over another sex. I never see woman checking out a guys reproductive organs during a conversation. I don’t think I’ve ever said to a woman, “My eyes are up here”, mid-conversation.  (I have no expectation that I ever will really).

I don’t want this to be construed as anything perverted. I’m merely stating that the female form is beautiful and deserves appreciation. It’s really no wonder some of the greatest works of art feature the female body prominently. The female body is a marvel and deserving of the admiration us men laud over wonderful, wonderful boobs. 

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