Round and full
Today, his hands on my breasts and his cock between them, I remembered how, as a girl of 10, flat as an ironing board, I had yearned for breasts. Nice round ones, though I would have been happy for any, really. I imagined them, pretended them. Once, on the way to the pool, shirt and shorts over swimsuit, I secretly rolled the top of my suit down so that it made a tiny little roll across my nipples and poked my shirt out the littlest bit. I pretended it was my flesh pushing it out, and I was very proud.
At 14, I still had practically nothing, and had to wear a padded bra once, to fill out my bridesmaids dress for my cousin’s wedding. No flat girls in weddings, thank you very much.
Pretend no more. I now have, as they say, world class tits. Not huge, I mean, but full, nice and round. Even at 50-ish, they are stunning – a little lower than they used to be, but beautifully round, with nipples pinkish, not too big, and facing frontwards. Just right.
Later, at 20, during the days of bra-burning, I went without – until, that is, I got tired of men looking at them instead of my face. I put my bra back on.
Then for a few decades, bras were just a functional reality. Only became decorative for me again in recent years. But when one gets the right fit – and it’s all in the fit – my, my, my! Now when I decorate myself with one, I always want it admired, teased, enjoyed. None of this pulling it off right away business. It’s there to play with! Maybe it comes from all those years in back seats of cars, playing around before anyone had the courage to try taking it off. God, that was fun. Maybe it comes from having yearned for them so badly I pretended they were there and felt proud.
Now I love to share them. I love being generous with them. I love it when someone really lets himself enjoy them, sinking in, drinking deep, taking all their generosity into his heart. (or cock) That’s what breasts are, fountains of love – once in the form of milk, now in the form of pleasure.
So today, his cock between them, hands drinking them, I reveled in the pleasure of them – how they feel to me, how great it feels to have them, how great it feels to love them. Yes, I say to that little girl, these are the ones we always wanted, and here they are! And we are proud and happy and warm and they feel great.