When I was a girl, if you wanted to grow bigger breasts you either did those exercises Judy Blume wrote about in Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret (“I must, I must, I must increase my bust!”) or you went on the birth control pill. Now, a “Japanese YouTube star” named Ryoko has a new method: rubbing raw vegetables on her boobs.
You can watch Ryoko do strange, mostly SFW things with an array of fresh-picked veggies after the jump: Keep reading »
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? Keep reading »
Breasts, boobs, tits, tatas, jugs, melons, knockers, rack — there are about as many nicknames as there are ways to show your appreciation for our golden globes. In the immortal words of Simple Minds: “Don’t you forget about me…” Seriously, fellas, you can go down on me for hours, but if you don’t touch my boobs, I won’t be satisfied. Unfortunately, every gal has got a story to tell about some boob hound who did her knockers wrong. So, let’s sit down for a little titty straight talk.
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We are at odds in The Frisky’s office about the bouncy boob castle, which will appear at The Museum of Sex in New York City (incidentally, down the street from us) beginning June 26th. The Freudian wonderland is a creation of Bompas & Parr, London-based conceptual artists. Everyone but me wants to hop around on those tatas with wild abandon. What can I say? Nipples read as “sensitive” to me — I’d rather hop all over an inflatable butt bouncy castle. Next exhibit? [Paper Mag]