True Story: How I Learned To Love (Or At Least Tolerate) The Titty F**k

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True Story: How I Learned To Love (Or At Least Tolerate) The Titty Fuck

I have big boobs. Whereas some women would kill to have the knockers I have, I’ve never been a huge fan of them. I mean, yes, it’s a pretty impressive rack, but at the price of back pain and the inability to get a dress to fit me properly, I’d prefer them to be smaller. I think I’d be happy with a nice B-cup, which is a small cry from the Double-D situation I have at the moment.

Not too surprisingly, my boobs have always been a favorite physical asset of the men I’ve dated. They’ve loved my brain, I think, and I’ve always been complimented on my sick sense of humor and my eyes, but when it came to my boobs, well, they’ve always won major points with the guys in my life, both straight and gay. In addition to being an ideal place for the men I’ve been intimate with to put their hands or rest their head, my boobs have provided other, more exciting experiences. What could be more exciting than a breast for a pillow, you ask?

It was my high school boyfriend who suggested the “titty fuck” first. At the time, I had never heard of such a sexual act. “Let me get this straight,” I thought, “you want to stick your penis between my boobs, as I squish them against your shaft as you basically hump my chest? That’s ridiculous.” I was 17. I had yet to realize just how insane interesting some of the sexual requests I’d encounter later in life would be.

But because he was my first love, and I wanted him to be both happy and sexually satisfied, I complied. It was, for lack of a better word, weird. As I said, I was only 17, and having a man straddling my chest as he thrust his dick between my cleavage was a less than ideal experience for me. At the time, we were both virgins, and since we weren’t quite ready to “do it,” it seemed like the next best thing — for him anyway. I just counted the seconds until it was over. I hadn’t given a blowjob yet either, so being that up close and personal with his one-eyed snake was a new experience.

In my single years since that first time, I’ve had my tits fucked (that’s the correct wording, right?) about 10 times or so. On one such occasion, tapioca pudding was involved, because of course it was. I was ready to throw in the towel, or permanently put on my bra, after that.

Then I met my now husband, and I was forced to look at titty fucking in a whole new light. I totally hit the jackpot with Olivier. He’s everything I hoped but never thought I would find in a partner. In fact, he exceeded my expectations, and everyday I have to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. It sounds like a cliché, but it’s true. It’s because of this truth that I give more of myself to him than I have given to others in my life.

Olivier first expressed an interest in titty fucking long before I knew I was in love with him. We were still in the early stages of getting to know each other, when fucking takes up 80 percent of the time spent together. I was, as I had been in the past, hesitant when he suggested it. I realize sex is a give and take, but in mind there’s just nothing but taking when it comes to having my boobs fucked. It’s not unpleasant, but it’s not particularly enjoyable either. I imagine if Olivier wanted to rub his cock against my shoulder blade, it would probably be more exciting. But that’s only because I love to have my back scratched.

However, the thing about love is that you find yourself giving and giving and giving, and before you know it, you’re handing over your boobs to your husband’s dick more than you ever thought you would. And in the middle of it all, you don’t just learn the meaning of compromise, but you learn to love, at least in your own way, what your partner sees in the titty fuck. You, through no fault of your own, make peace with it, because when your heart is so wrapped up in a person that makes you feel like you’ve hit the jackpot every day that you’re alive, that’s just what you do. You push your boobs together and you let your man and his ridiculous idea of what’s hot stick his dick between them.

Olivier knows that fucking my boobs will never be my favorite item on the menu of our sex life. But I’ve made it more than clear that it’s because I love him that I will let him have at it from time to time, and that the enjoyment he gets from these little  sessions makes it worth the effort. Olivier and I have a trusting and sex life, and we both know where the line is drawn and how not to cross it. And so the titty fucking continues.

I would never suggest that anyone do anything in bed that they don’t want to, because true pleasure comes in the form of safety and comfort. But I also know that compromise is part of a healthy relationship, as long as you’re both on the same page and boundaries are kept in check. For Olivier and I – and most couples I would argue — compromise is part of the equation: he gets to fuck to my tits, then I get a back scratch. If that isn’t true love, then I don’t know what is.

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