What is it about breasts? Is it a psychological yearning to reconnect with our mother—to receive nourishment from the breast? Despite my frequent mentioning of breasts, I am not a breast man—or, rather, I am the consummate breast man. Breast size doesn’t matter—generally: AAA to D is fine with me. Much larger than that, and that’s another story. I have never been with a woman larger than D, and neither have I been with a woman who has had breast augmentation, though I have known a few. Implanted breasts look nice until the sweater comes off.
Speaking of implants, Kristen had nice tits when we met, after child bearing and nursing, she went from a firm full B cup to a saggy A cup. Several times she mentioned she wanted to have implants to at least get her back to where she had been. As I have said, I am not into implants, and I told her her breasts were fine. One day I got a nice bonus from work, so I suggested we use some of it for her to get implants. She freaked out. “I thought you liked my tits the way they are. Why would you bring that up?” I reminded her of the myriad times she had brought up the topic, but to no avail. The lesson? Don’t bring up the matter implants. I am not even sure how you gracefully agree to a request for implants.
Breasts come in many shapes and sizes. There are firm breasts and floppy breasts, and while I don’t think all breasts are attractive, I think I give more leeway to the beauty of breasts than most men do. The average cup size of American women is about a C cup—believe it or not. I have probably averaged B cups through my sexual career—from AAA, which was smaller than mine, methinks—barely a nipple, but a sensitive nipple, it was, to a firm D, perhaps a D+, truth be known. One of my favourite positions is to spoon a woman and cup her breast with my top arm. I don’t even have to be fucking her. Of course, with enough lube, breasts can be fucked. This can be an awkward position and is really determined by anatomy. I have done this with smaller-breasted women yet not been able to do it with larger-breasted women. Go figure.
Besides the breasts themselves, the nipples give another reason for fascination, whether they be tiny dots or large silver dollars or something in between. Some nipples protrude always, and others are inverted. They are pink and brown to even darker brown. One woman in particular into BDSM liked to have her nipples clamped or clothes-pinned during sex. Who am I to question her preferences.
Ah! Another benefit of breasts is the milk—so sweet. It’s like melted ice cream. Of course, it it best from the tap. Having a couple of children from a couple of marriages, I have tasted from the tap of two teats. This stuff is the nectar of the gods—or goddesses, as the case might be. I don’t have anything more to add, but in the realm of the female body, I figured I’d add this to the “yes” list.