Nudity - What's Not to Like?

I’ve woken. I’m lying in my bed in my night clothes and I move towards to window to draw the curtains and let in the natural light, however dull it may be. I return to bed to complete my morning meditations.

It’s a longer session than normal as I have many conversations from the weekend spiraling round my mind which need to be released before I start my work for the day.

My plastic friend is there to help me relax.

It’s time to get up. I move to the wardrobe and choose my attire and then I stand still, questioning, thinking.

Should I close the curtains before I undress? Should I protect the world from my body? Should I thrill the passer-by with my fairly hefty and still relatively admirable boobs, even if the rest of my body is past its sell-by date?

Should I give a toss or simply do what I feel comfortable with? Do I really care if the old geezer over the road gets an eyeful of my buxomness?

He crawls into his bathroom and looks towards the neighbouring house that backs onto his garden. Through the veil of the blind, he sees the outline of activity in the room opposite. A woman is sitting in the window, brushing her hair, fully exposed as he watches the fullness of her breasts when she raises her arm to do its work. Stroking and stroking, she methodically pushes the brush through her locks, unknowingly in time with his own rhythms as the voyeur rises to life.

Nudity. What’s not to like?

Why are we constantly ashamed of our bodies when we ought to be celebrating their liveliness?

The moments in my life when I have felt total freedom, total oneness with myself let alone with another person, have been when I’ve been naked – naked in body, yes, but also naked of thought, naked in my mind, naked and transparent in my soul.

These moments will always be the best moments, the favoured moments.

They open the book. They careful fold the pages over.

A woman crouching, eyes down, facing the floor. One leg extended out to the side of her torso. The other is holding her weight. Her fuck-me shoes accentuate the length of those stunning pins. Her arms effortlessly fall forward, either side of her pussy.

Her bodice is open and her breasts are partially exposed – one corner of a nipple out, another outlined through the antique lace that pulls her waist into an inviting clasp. Her vaginal hairs invitingly parted by her positioning to show her labia, subtly juicing with a dribble of moisture on the parquet floor.

Erotic art or pornography? Does it matter if the result is arousing?

Close your eyes and imagine that scene – that woman, that body, that floor, that sexuality. Do it slowly. Give yourself time to allow the image to become embellished through your imagination, your memories, your feelings.

Where would be without images on nudity?

Sometimes, some people need this beauty to inspire and to arouse. Sometimes, some people simply want to look at the wonderment of the female form to relax and appreciate the pleasures of life.

Sometimes, images such as these are far more enticing than a formulated fuck on a pornography site.

So Mr Hefner and Mr Cory Jones - editor at Playboy – I think you’re wrong. I think there will always be a place for nudity in your magazine and others. Pornographic sites do something different. They can’t be held in motionless admiration. They can’t be zoomed into. They don’t always leave space for your own interpretation and imagination – your own creativity.

http://www.nytimes.com/2015/10/13/business/media/nudes-are-old-news-at-playboy.html?_r=0

A still photo of sexuality can do all of this.

Helen Mirren – a beautiful woman. Nothing needs to be said about her age. She’s just beautiful. Her sexuality radiates from her face as much as her body but she’s decided that she really shouldn’t do nudity any longer.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/helen-mirren-onscreen-nudity_560a7e8be4b0af3706ddc417

Naturally, that’s her choice but it concerns me that she might be saying so because she feels it’s inappropriate.

It’s not.

Nudity isn’t age-appropriate. Nudity is in the moment, in the mind of the voyeur, in the movement or stillness of the model.

The feminists scream of exploitation and rightly so when so many women have been subjugated – against their will, to expose themselves without thoroughly considering what they’re doing. But not all. Some women have chosen to pose for photographs because it makes them feel empowered, invigorated, free – just as I did when I was naked and accepted for my bodily flaws and fascinations.

Other feminists applaud because we should be proud of our form. We should celebrate, and if those amongst us who have seemingly flawless bodies want to share their beauty with men and women who choose to be aroused by their nudity, then so be it.

I embrace nudity and even as I am right now, with my far from perfect body, I won’t close the curtains.

Celebrity Clothing

Last night I was mostly looking at Paris Hilton’s bottom. Quite a pert bottom it is too. Shame about the face but then if I had the money that Paris Hilton has, my bottom would look that pert too!

Synchronicity strikes once more for I happened upon her bottom a mere 24 hours after my lover and I had been discussing celebrity dressing and the fact that quite a few people had recently been photographed with their derrieres or tits on display.

I hadn’t been searching for Paris Hilton and her arse. It just came up on the front page of one of the more famous webs searchers. There it was, proud and exaggerated as she bent over to get something out of her car. She was wearing black leggings that became transparent as the paparazzi man’s shadow imprinted itself on her backside. You could see every line, crack and roundness.

It did make me wonder whether Paris knew what she was doing. I suspect that she did.

She had no knickers on, or if she did, she was wearing a very invisible G-String. So when she bent down to pick up the thing that had fallen out of her boot, she must have known that the cameras would take her photo and that it would reveal plenty of her toned arse.

And quite frankly, why shouldn’t she show off the best parts of her body? If she is going to be photographed wherever she goes, then she really ought to flaunt the bits of her that she thinks are most appealing.

Mylie Cyrus has just been celebrating her eighteenth birthday. She was photographed in a very uncompromising position, clearly half cut with her legs entangled in another’s. Her top was completely transparent and her bra was totally exposed.

She had chosen to go out dressed in this way because this was the look that suited her. She has a decent pair of tits for an eighteen year old and wearing a see-through top made her feel sexy.

Judging by the photos of what looked like simulated sex, her little outfit clearly got the result that she had anticipated; a good looking would-be lover between her thighs.

The beautiful and sexy Katy Perry/Brand does nothing to hide her voluptuous figure. She deliberately flaunts her wonderful figure to a world of awaiting flashing. She knows she looks bloody gorgeous and she quite rightly allows it all to be seen by the awaiting fans.

So all this flaunting is acceptable is it? Women in tights, revealing their panties is the fashion of the moment? It seems to be so.

Why are people so shocked then? Why is this more unacceptable than a woman flashing cleavage for instance?

I was thinking about this as I went for my evening swim.

There you are in the pool with complete strangers, happily and contentedly swimming around in a shared space with moreorless nothing on. An associate of mine, who I know vaguely, swims in the same place. He fashions a speedo look which hides nothing. As we climb out of the pool, me with my cleavage, him with his speedos, we talk about work totally unembarrassed by our near nudity. We wouldn’t dream of sitting at work together in our bra, panties and knickers. It would be most unseemly.

On holiday, you sit with friends and family in next to nothing and do not consider it to be weird or outlandish, and yet when you are all back in a house together with the constraints of bricks and mortar, you tightly wrap a towel around yourself as you come out of the shower, fearful that it will untie itself and reveal a body that you have already revealed to the awaiting eye on the beach only minutes before.

Boy, we are strange folk.

I mean, you wouldn’t dream of walking down to cook breakfast in your undies and yet you sit quite happily munching on a sarnie in your bikini and having a perfectly non-sexual conversation with friends as you are doing so.

We do have a very odd relationship with clothes and nudity. The juxtaposition and, quite frankly, complete hypocrisy is astounding. Why is a black bra more of a problem than a black bikini top?

What is wrong with a famous person or even a none-famous person revealing their lovely thighs in transparent trousers if they happen to have an arse worth looking at? Why is that more unacceptable than them walking around with a transparent top on revealing their bra to the world? And yet it is.

Perhaps it is something to do with, you know, what goes on down there!

Tits are functional for the milk that they produce and people can just about accept that. But showing the other bits, where man and woman jigsaw together? Hell no because then we would have to admit that we rather like cocks and cunts and our eyes would be drawn to the most precious parts of our body. And we should not look at other people’s bits, not those bits anyway.

But we are human beings. We are instinctive animals if only we would allow ourselves to be.

When I see a voluptuous woman with a good body, I am naturally drawn to inspect her cleavage. When I am walking down the street, I like to see the many beautiful forms I come across, both male and female. When I am in the swimming pool, I am naturally curious as to see what people are hiding in their trunks or their bathers. It does not mean that I am sexually attracted to every person that I see. Far from it. But I do admit to looking because that is a natural thing to do.

And if a person has the desire and confidence to draw attention to the best parts of their anatomy, then why should they not do that? Why are we so hopeless at admitting that we want to be voyeurs?

When I get dressed, I want to look good. I do not have the body of Paris Hilton, or the money sadly. I do not have the best tits or the most desirable arse in the world but what I do want to do is make myself look as presentable as possible, and in some situations I want to look as sexy as possible, and in others I just want to feel confident about how I look, sexy or not. I dress for me, and if other people take pleasure in my appearance then that is all for the good. If I can bring a smile to a face or a hard on to a cock, then that is all well and good.

If I had a body worth flaunting, I think I would flaunt it; not to attract attention but because it made ME feel good about myself (partly because of the attracted attention, let us not deny).

If I had parts of me that are sexually exciting, like good tits, and a toned tummy, I would wear the transparent tops for the world to see, not at work maybe, but elsewhere. If I had an arse to die for, I’d wear what Paris Hilton was wearing. Good on her!

Clothes can be incredibly sexy. Slightly clad people can be incredibly exciting, sometimes even more tantalising than complete nakedness – it feeds the imagination in a way that a full frontal cannot.

But we really do have an odd and contradictory relationship with clothes that in an enlightened society would not exist. A bra would be the same as a bikini top. Getting out of the pool in the altogether would be no different from sitting in a hot office in your bra.

Dream on Zenpuss. Our enlightenment is a long way off!

Tits are Getting Bigger

Good news for all men and women who are fond of the voluptuous. Boobs are getting bigger. Yes, a 34B is no longer the mainstay of the British boob. In fact the cup size has increased dramatically over the last few years and it cannot simply be explained away by the obesity epidemic.

This is indeed good news and for me is an interesting piece of synchronicity. Yesterday, I was writing about cocks as a response to the Zeitgeist section on the Guardian website. I mentioned that there was a piece about boobs on there.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/science/2010/may/14/breast-size-evolution
More from Carole later but lo and behold, as I was trawling through the paper yesterday there was a complementary article from Alice Fisher explaining why women’s breasts were getting bigger.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2010/may/16/womens-breasts-are-getting-bigger

So what was going to be a scientific discussion about the purpose of the human breast is now going to be broadened into a celebration of the healthy, “more than a handful” great British tit.

Carole Jahme, incidentally, is the woman who has responded so informatively to the questions posed in the science section of the newspaper. She has a master’s degree in evolutionary psychology and has appeared on the comedy circuit with a show called “Carole Jahme is Sexually Selected” where she answers some seriously interesting questions about sexuality, attraction, alpha people and our link with our primate cousins. Isn’t it annoying when you see a show on the internet like this that you missed and have no immediate prospect of seeing?

Along with the cock question, this week Carole was asked why the human female breasts were so big in comparison with other primates. The questioner was an animal science student who was clearly interested in why apes developed a full breast during lactation but disappeared completely once the milking days were over. Clearly this is not so with human females as breasts develop before child birth and remain long after the functionary purpose of feeding the young.

Carole explained that indeed human breasts are anomalies. They grow and remain irrespective of the purpose of breast feeding. Carole also goes on to state that the size of the boob is not necessarily proportionate to the amount of milk produced. Essentially she offers no evolutionary purpose for such an anomaly. However, Zenpuss would argue that boobs clearly have another purpose i.e. that of attraction and it is this that has maintained their position in a similar way to the size of a cock as explained and commented on in the previous blog.

Carole mentions in her responses that not only are continual female boobs unique to humans but the traditional hour-glass figure of voluptuousness is also something that is known only to humans. She explains that the female rump is not found on other primates. Neither is the smaller waist. In fact, like human males, primates store fat on the abdomen rather than the derriere. Hey, maybe I have more connection with the apes than I thought! But no, I have a healthy amount of boob and bum that fits in with this notion of the female form.
Carole continues to say that if man had not preferred this “mutation” then we would all be flat-chested.

So it looks as though I am correct. Our ancestors liked the big boobed, wide hipped, heartily bummed (!) women and so we evolved to ensure that their descendents got a healthy handful. Likewise, women like decent sized cocks and so it has emerged that the biggest cock with the greatest likelihood of fertilising a woman is the preferred option. It’s a simple case of survival of the fittest.

Therefore we have semi-established why females have boobs; either it is a completely inexplicable anomaly or it is an evolvement to pleasure the male onlookers but how come women’s boobs are getting bigger? Is this a direct evolutionary response to men wanting more of a good thing? Are the poor women of the 22nd century going to be able to stand up with the weight of their mighty ones?

According to the article hyperlinked above, the average British bra size has recently gone from a 34B to a 36D. Shops across the nation have stocked up on the larger bra and only a couple of years ago, Marks and Spencer made the ever so sensible and equitable decision to stop charging more for a larger bra, which was a blessing to those of us who bitterly resented paying more for a fulsome boob.
But this is not the whole story. Apparently, there is a massive increase in the cup size even of those who manage to retain their 34 circumference measurement or back measurement as it is known. This implies that the cup size seems to have increased even if you take away the excuse of larger figures through increased obesity. John Lewis, for instance, suggests that they used to sell more 34B bras but now their best seller is a tiny and large 32D.

So why has this happened? There is, quite frankly, very little evidence and lots of assumptions as to why bra sizes have increased. Some do put it down to the fact that we are healthy, have a higher protein diet and are therefore bigger all over than our ancestors, even a couple of generations away. Others are concerned about the levels of xenoestrogens that slip into our lives unnaturally through food preservatives and make-up. Anecdotal information on this is aplenty but conclusive research is incomplete. Others suggest that our boobs are bigger these days because we menstruate earlier and remain fertile for longer but that argument doesn’t really fit with Carole Jahme’s comment about the link evolutionarily with other primates.

The proper response is that nobody really knows why bigger boobs have occurred but throughout this second article, nobody has suggested that it could be because men and women like bigger boobs, although there is acknowledgement that this is the case.

I think this sentence from the piece says it all: “But breasts are sexy and thrilling – most of us want to have or hold a perfect pair of boobs”.
Some of us want to have AND hold a perfect pair of boobs!

Breasts are sexy and thrilling. Breasts are the greatest sign of womanhood and it is a joy to me that the larger breast is highly fashionable these days. I like to see women feeling comfortable with and proud of their cleavage. I love the confidence that this gives them. Their flaunting of it is far more to do with their comfort than to attract men, though of course, this could always be a subliminal purpose too.
I love to look at really wonderful and beautiful boobs. Personally, I don’t like unnaturally large but perfectly structured, full boobs are extremely attractive. I get an immense pleasure from looking at really good tits.

I love having tits that are slightly bigger than average. I love the fact that they are malleable, inviting a tactile response. I adore having my boobs felt and jiggled around. I like the fact that my tits can be handled and fondled whenever I am feeling frisky, or indeed when my lover is.

The article continues to give almost a full history of the making of bras. It once more states that women do not know the size of their boobs. If this is the case there is a strong possibility that the average boob size is significantly bigger than the average size of the best-selling bra.

As women become more aware of their own bodies and as individualism increases, then hopefully people will be less intimidated by the fact that they have a significantly larger cup size than they assumed. Each individual should feel confident in shopping in the DD-K section of their local bra shop rather than hiding and slouching in a desperate attempt to hide their size.
Personally, I think the loss of the word brassiere is a big step in the right direction!

All the evidence from a range of studies suggests that men frequently choose photographs of women that are larger than the ones that women suggest are the most attractive. A man chooses a size 14 model whereas women still think there is something in the “Perfect 10”.
Let’s hope that this awakening and acceptance of bigger boobs is the start of a more rational approach to the female form by women themselves.
I’d suggest giving our men something that they want which in the main means a satisfying handful of tit, a curvy figure, voluptuous thighs that appear as though they can anchor a man in position between your legs and a lovely juicy cunt.

And on that note, I am going to the gym to tone my bits and ensure that I do not lose my big boobs when I lose the fatty deposits that need shifting because what I really want seems to be very much in line with what men want. I want to be a sexy, shapely woman who celebrates their sexuality through a voluptuous and exciting body that needs handling on a daily basis. I want to “give” my body in the form that it should be. I want big tits, a reasonably sized waist and a pussy that is attractive to those I want to attract. And in return, I want that big cock! All seems perfectly equitable to me.

Bras and boobs and best fits

Bras and boobs
Last night Miranda Hart was on Frank Skinner’s new show describing her visit to Rigby and Peller.
For those who have not heard about this store, it is a good old fashioned lingerie shop.
http://www.rigbyandpeller.com/
Take a look at the website. If you are anything like me, you get a small thrill from looking at such a site.

I have always had a distinct pleasure in looking at lingerie, preferably on a beautiful model but decent knickers will stand up on their own (!) as the glorious piece of clothing that they are. There are some divine panties and beautiful bras on this site as well as other tasteful lingerie.
I like to imagine myself both in and out of these products. I like to imagine someone looking at me as I undress to reveal this exceptionally good lingerie and how eager fingers would like to search out the intimate parts of my body that are enhanced by the quality of the craftsmanship of perfectly designed bras and panties.
I’m already turned on by the thought. I really do love fingers reaching into my pussy whilst eyes are feasting on sexy panties. Wonderful.

What sets Rigby and Peller aside from other shops is the way that they fit bras. Apparently, on visiting one of their shops, you are guided into a room and asked to remove your bra. The assistant then gawps at your boobs, their size, your posture, the intricate details of every woman’s voluptuousness and then dashes out to grab a selection of bras for you.

They usually return with a range of bras that appear to be far bigger than the one that you are wearing. This does not surprise me at all. Most women have no idea of their bra size. They reached a certain size at the end of their growth and they stick with that particular measurement, irrespective of whether they are bulging out the side of their containers.

Not only do women not know the size of their lovely ones, they don’t know how to put a bra on.
I don’t put a bra on properly. I do what most women do; clip the bra in front of the boobs, twist it round and then put the arm straps on, finally manoeuvring my tits into the cups. Not very sexy.
Apparently on should put the arm straps on first, lever your big ones into the cups, mould them in and then take the strap fastens around to the back and place them together. Once done, you can readjust at the front.
At Rigby and Peller, they tell you all about this.

I can’t afford Rigby and Peller lingerie. Well, I might be able to but I am not sure that I can justify spending £50 on a pair of panties or £70 on a bra but in saying this, isn’t this yet more proof of a topsy turvy world?
I frequently pay £40 for a skirt or a pair of jeans and the same amount for a decent top. I do this because that is the price of clothes and I do try and look decent. If you apply the same rule to underwear, I also want to look good in my lingerie. The only difference is that these clothes are potentially seen by far fewer people. The reward for dressing seductively and tastefully in expensive, well-made lingerie should be worth the cost and twofold. Therefore, what is wrong in splashing out on something that makes you feel energised, sexual and downright horny?

So, I now am stuck with a vivid fantasy in my mind. I am walking through Knightsbridge or Mayfair and I come across the front window of this lingerie shop, which from the front is indistinguishable from other posh shops; no overt displays of what is promised inside. (This wouldn’t happen in France – the gorgeous seductive garments would be out on the window display, enticing people in. What a weird place this country is!).
I enter into the shop with my lover. He has to be there because he is going to choose the right fit, the right colour, the panties that he wants to trickle his fingers through.

We ask the assistant for some support, obviously choosing the most attractive person to serve us. We also ask if my lover can come into the changing room with me. She hasn’t had such a request before which strikes me as rather odd. Surely the partners of customers are going to get as much gratification out of the sale as the person who is going to wear the garments?

She asks the manager who agrees.
My lover takes a seat in the corner of the room. I have passed my cardigan to him to have on his lap, just in case he needs to cover himself up. I then unbutton my shirt, remove my camisole and then reach behind to unbuckle my bra. I gently remove the garment, not too slowly in case the assistant thinks I am trying to seduce her (which I probably am), not too quickly so that my lover can get a small thrill from me unveiling myself to another woman.
I then look directly into the eyes of the assistant who is concentrating fully on her analysis of my boobs. My lover, meanwhile, is making use of my cardigan as he looks at the arse of the assistant, and gets marginally aroused as she sweeps her eyes over my E sized tits.

Once she has analysed the size and proportions of my tits, she wanders off and I remain standing there in silence as my lover pushes aside the cardigan to show me his erection. I, in turn, place my hands down towards my pussy and press hard to remind him that I am as turned on as he is.

The assistant returns and guides me into the first bra. My lover remains seated as he watches this young woman carefully touching my tits as she smoothes the bra over my boobs. I ask naive questions as to whether it is fitting properly around the cleavage so that the assistant has to return to my body to readjust the shapely lace around me. My lover is sniggering silently at my blatancy, knowing that I have only asked for this adjustment for my own sexual pleasure.

This pattern of query and readjustment happens with each of the bras that the assistant has chosen to try on me. At one point, I ask my lover to come and look around my back to see what the bra looks like from the back. He comes straight up to me and cheekily jiggles my right boob, just checking the fit, of course. The assistant averts her eyes as we flirt in this familiar way.

We finally agree on a bra – possibly this one http://www.rigbyandpeller.com/Sexy_Lingerie/sc1282/p11161.aspx
And my lover asks if there are some panties that match.

The assistant goes off and brings back a selection of styles; G strings, briefs, lacy thongs and shorts.
My lover chooses the pair he wants me to have, possibly these http://www.rigbyandpeller.com/Sexy_Lingerie/sc1282/p11438.aspx

Once the sale is agreed, my lover asks if I can keep the bra and panties on, making it quite clear that he intends to whip them both off at the earliest opportunity. What he doesn’t say to the assistant, but what I know, is that he is going to fuck me whilst I wear both of these items, and he is going to take plenty of photos of their inaugural sex session.

We leave the shop excited, sexually charged and eager to get to somewhere where we can make use of the arousal that we have just experienced.
.....................................................................................

There is another ending to this fantasy and I will write about that tomorrow...............
.....................................................................................

In all seriousness, women should be more concerned about the underwear that they choose. I really want women to feel positive about their sexuality and choosing the right underwear is so vital to this. What is sexy for some is not sexy for others. Some people do not want the overt Ann Summers style of sexuality. For others, this is perfect. This is what they feel good in.
Some want thongs and others want silky material to cover their arses in a sensual way.
Some need full cup bras, others like the enhancement of a half cup lift. Everyone should get to know what is right for them, and what is enticing for their partners.
How many women actually ask their sexual partners what they would like them to wear? How many women know their lover’s preferences?

It’s time to reconsider the expenditure on lingerie. I am beginning to think this is precisely how I should be spending my well-earned money.

Tits

I’ve changed my mind. I have decided to start a blog 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.