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 »