Have I mentioned before that I love breasts? My friends will happily tell you that I’m obsessed with other women’s cleavage. Seriously, they’re so beautiful. I was a healthy and disinterested 34A until I hit my mid-20s and then suddenly out of nowhere I got myself some curves and grew a pair of generous 34C’s and they were magnificant! They gave me great pleasure by virtue of just being. Pert, voluminous, firm, globe-like and yet so soft to the touch. They were such a novelty and I was very appreciative. I do love a good pair
I think breasts are one feature of women’s bodies that they really know well. We know what they look like, we know what they feel like, we know how to dress them up and dress them down. We know how we feel about them. You know now how I feel about mine but as another example, a colleague recently told me that she can’t stand the thoughts of anyone touching her breasts and she was pretty sure too. She’s happily married and the mother of three strapping boys.
The really interesting thing for me about my breasts is I never knew what they were capable of when I was busy admiring them. Yes, as a part of your body they are a beautiful thing to look at and touch but oh my do they come into their own when mother nature calls them up to the front line. It’s like they’ve been sitting there patiently waiting for their potential to be unleashed. Boobs HD.
I didn’t suffer from breast tenderness in my early pregnancy. Or maybe I did but I was too busy puking to notice. It wasn’t until I was about three or four months in when my breasts started to change: growing literally like water balloons with royal blue veins appearing and spidering under the surface of my skin. But the biggest change, and surprise really, was in the few days after my baby was born and my milk started to come in. Suddenly my breasts had a scale of textures. Whereas up until that point in my life they always felt the same, now as they filled with milk they could feel literally rock hard and when the baby finished a particularly long feed, they could feel like a flabby belly and there were many levels of texture in between. I remember when my sister came to visit not long after Baby S was born, I burst open my shirt and said “Look! Feel my boob!”. She looked at me like I had two heads . I was mesmerised – and I still am – by how something that had been the same for so long had now sprung to life so to speak, to fulfil their true destiny.
Breasts are amazing. Women’s bodies are amazing. Men must be so jealous of us really. We are amazing.