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The lovely MsTitty recently invited guest posts from her regular readers relating to breasts (the focus of her blog).  I was more than happy to write something up from the male perspective, but I also figured, since our readers may not be the same people, I would post this on my blog as well.

I think men don’t fully appreciate the effect we can have on the fairer sex.  We objectify them as something to be fought for and won, the Homo erectus in us driving us to dryhump anything that looks remotely feminine (or not, as the case may be).  It’s hard to argue with biology, millions of years of evolution working against our recently developed sense of logic and reason, always whispering in the back of our minds, “Man, those are some nice titties.  You should put your erectus between them.”  It’s not always right, but damn if that whisper doesn’t sound awfully convincing at times.

This in turn causes some women to develop a bit of a complex about their bodies.  Those particularly gifted between the pelvis and clavicle often bemoan their situation–back pain, difficulty finding clothes that fit, and of course, the street catcall.  (The most creative I ever heard: “Quisiera fueras sartén para estrellarte los juevos.”  Translated, “I wish you were a pan so I could bust my eggs on you.”)  I can’t imagine what it’s like being the subject of constant sexual attention, but I suspect it’s a terrible burden at times.

On the other hand, many women I know (not all of them, but many) who are not particularly equipped above the navel are jealous of their larger-chested compatriots.  They don’t see the downside to it.  They don’t live with the back trouble, or the nasty names and unwanted advances.  They just want their share of the attention.  Hence the proliferation of the boob job.

This lengthy intro leads me to my point: natural breasts, of any shape and size, are better than medically augmented funbags.  And I do differentiate between the two.  Breasts are real.  They are what women develop on their own, small or large, perky or saggy, narrow or wide cleavage.  Funbags are fake breasts, skin filled with a big bag of silicon or whatever new substances they use in them.  They may look fun, my friends, but let me assure you, they will never, ever compare to breasts.

Case in point.  A woman I knew was rather poorly endowed in the chest, and she always talked about having her girls augmented.  It was the method by which she would finally attract The Man of Her Dreams, stealing Him away from all of the naturally large breasted competition that populates our home town.  After being away for a few years, I came back to find she had finally gotten the surgery she always wanted, jumping from an A to a hefty D.  I had never before known a girl pre- and post-augmentation, and admittedly, the difference was astounding.  Where she had once worn more concealing clothing, presumably out of some strange notion that her small breasts made her unattractive, her wardrobe now includes nothing but camisoles, low cut shirts, and revealing summer dresses.   Her soft-spoken, almost paranoid demeanor has given way to an assertive, confident, outgoing socialite.  It’s almost as though her newly purchased chest came with a free shot of charisma.  (I wonder where such an injection would be administered.)  She became much more appealing when she wasn’t tucked in a corner, hiding from the rest of the crowd.  Not because of her new breasts, but because of her newly discovered confidence in herself and her body.

So, that night, we fucked for the first time.  I had never actually touched a pair of augmented chesticles, but I was excited to find out what it was all about.  They were pretty enough when her clothes were removed, if a bit too round, the usual surgically enhanced look with which pornography had acquainted me so long ago.  I assumed they would be soft, more squishy or bouncy maybe, because of the silicon.  Oh no.  No, no, no.  They were like freaking rocks, two large, uncomfortable lumps of unrelenting firmness that actually hurt my chest to lay on for too long.  I couldn’t imagine how she could be satisfied with them, but I didn’t say anything.  (After all, sex was involved, and much like coffee, it doesn’t really matter what the flavor or texture is, all that matters is, you have some.)  I just adjusted my approach and style to accommodate staying as far away from those pointy, unpleasant things as I possibly could.

Afterwards, we spent a great deal of time lounging around her house in the nude, drinking wine on her fenced in back porch, enjoying the cool night air on our bare skin.  After a bit of chitchatting, she asked me what I thought of her new purchase.  I didn’t have the heart to tell her how unpleasant to touch I found them, so I focused on the positives–their appearance in clothing, and how they seemed to have bolstered her confidence.  She never caught on to my distaste for them, and we ended the night on a positive note (after two more rounds of rather intense fucking–I’m nothing if not tenacious).  But that experience left me with a newfound appreciation for the natural breast.  The softness and fullness of the thing.  The give under your touch.  The sway as a woman moves.  The bounce as you… well, yeah.  Suffice to say, a surgically altered pair of breasts is never going to be as enjoyable as those served au naturel.

Personally, I blame my own gender for this.  Breasts, regardless of size, are beautiful (reference the work of one Ad@m if you doubt me), and it’s a shame that so many women feel they have to change their own beautiful, natural bodies to mimic some oddly idealized Platonic Form of Woman.  Speaking on behalf of sensible men everywhere, I would encourage women to find pleasure in their bodies apart from measurements and sizes.  Small breasts do not make you ugly.  Large breasts do not make you a bimbo.  You are all beautiful, even if you don’t see it.

I wish I could come up with a clever closing to this entry, but unfortunately, I seem to be all creatived out.  Instead, I will leave with the final stanza of a poem from the reliably witty Ryan Sohmer:

Whether you think I am crass or perhaps rather witty,
Allow me to be clear here–I likem dem titties.



  1. Perfection! You are smart and thoughtful.

  2. Love it!
    Have you ever put a flashlight up to falsies?
    Most of them glow. It’s so cool.

    • That… may be the funniest thing ever. Proper application of a Sharpee and you can get a reverse jack o’ lantern.

  3. So I read this right? 🙂 Nice to meet you, I saw your comment over on Narcissist’s blog and came over. Okay, onward … you know, I see women being all perturbed by their breast size and being a woman, I don’t … I find it to be a horrible thing to compare ones self to another woman in this way.

    I don’t grasp the concept because … well … shit, my girls are … my girls right? Have you seen that surgery? OMG… It’s like they make incision over here, the slide stuff in there, they move the nipple over here which has to totally desensitize the poor things… LOL 🙂

    I never understood this and I’m a B cup and I’m happy. It simply never occurred to me to be self conscious about my breasts. I don’t understand the entire thought process as it pertains to larger breasts and this “thing” women get into their heads because I’ve never been unhappy… heck, women with larger breasts are uncomfortable and have breast reductions for goodness sake. Ya know?

    Personally, I would like to see more women like themselves and not buy into this thought process…

    Oh 🙂 Nice to meetcha …

    • Thanks Coach! Glad to have you aboard! 🙂

      I will never understand the use of scalpels, gauze, and suction as a solution to life’s problems.

      ………well, okay, suction I get. But not medically.

      • Oh geez … (as to the suction comment LOL ! ) Thank you! (as to the on board comment) You know what I think is cool? How many people we meet in blog world. You’ll have to give me a little leeway, I’m totally reflective tonight …

        I understand through watching shows about plastic surgery, due to my aversion to it, how it can enhance a person’s self esteem or their thought processes as to how they view themselves. Which, of course, is highly subjective. At the same time … my goodness, I see perfectly healthy, attractive women going under the knife and it’s not necessary. This is what I don’t understand it. How on earth, does that happen?

        Personally, I think there is way too much bull going on….

  4. Agreed, Coach. Don’t get me wrong, I have a deep and abiding love for athletic women. But not being athletic and skinny doesn’t mean you’re not beautiful. I hate that so many people, men and women alike, think that not being an Abercrombie or Victoria’s model lookalike means they’re not attractive or desirable.

    Personality and charisma are 90% of sexual appeal, if you ask me. Looks will only get you so far. Make a person laugh, and you can rule their world.

    • I think any person who has … uhm… fallen prey to the hype and nonsense that media and so many other venue’s spew is … unfair to themselves as a person.

      I mean, at the end of the day? if we really pay attention to what matters… and I do mean REALLY pay attention to what matters … well it’s about who we are. Personally I don’t need a male model, however, being healthy and not jeapordizing our health is equally as important to me.

      I agree with you… people are not all model material and … you know what? All of our looks fade over time. It’s nature. It happens and at the end of the day, it’s all about REALLY liking who we are.

      I just did a blog post the other day where I was like, I need to work out… only because I feel better overall, mentally, physically etc., but it’s not because I’m in competition with someone else. it’s about me and how I feel primarily, not how I’ll look in that dress or what other people will say or think. Does this make sense?

      I have a friend and she wants to have liposuction and all this work done, she’s heavier and bigger sized and … while I empathise with her, I’m afraid for her because personality wise, she’s a nice person over all. I don’t like to see her put herself in a box based on what she thinks she isn’t. Breaks my heart really…

      I’m going to sleep … 🙂 I’ll come back later, if I haven’t knocked out or tomorrow.

      • Of course that makes sense! I’m quite the same. I’m comfortable with how I look, yet I work out regularly, running and lifting and hiking and working outside, not because I want to look like a Men’s Health model, but because I want to be healthy. My work requires me to spend a lot of time outside collecting data in fairly rough country, and not being in shape could really slow me down, or cause me to be unable to do the things I love sooner than later. So I exercise regularly. Whether it makes me more attractive to the average person is really of little consequence, because I have never had to worry about such things. Being confident in myself is what matters most.

      • I agree… being confident and liking ourselves over all is attractive. And I think too, people have their insecurities at any given time because we’re human. I don’t care for how I see, particularly women compare themselves to some Ideal woman they believe they’re not and they’re trying to live up to this pretty picture. It’s unfair to them for who they are because it’s being based on superficial things.

  5. Great post! I would give my left arm just to have my breasts properly lifted so they don’t sag down to my knees when not bunched up in a bra. Why? 1) my high school boyfriend told me when I was 17 that my breasts sagged like a 40 year old! 2) Porn. Damn those large chested women having their nipples out in front and perky as hell.

    It makes me happy to know there are men like you and my man who appreciate the naturalness no matter the droopiness.

    • 1) Your high school boyfriend was a self-indulgent prick.

      2) There are a lot of pornstars with that sort of chest, but I doubt that most of them have achieved it naturally. Personally, one of my favorite adult film stars is Brandy Talore. Her breasts are incredibly large and, by most definitions, rather saggy. She’s also a heavier woman, but she is completely natural, and whether in film or in interviews, she always seems very comfortable with the way she looks and who she is. And that makes her incredibly sexy to me. That’s sort of what drove me to write this post. I love that confidence, recognizing that despite being bigger than what is commonly accepted as the “perfect” woman, she is still beautiful and desirable. That’s what matters.

      Droopiness doesn’t matter. All that matters is using and loving what you have and are. If you love your body, trust me, I will love it too. (Over and over. 😉 )

  6. This is beautiful. I don’t know if it is coming through in my blog, it turned way darker than I thought it would but I love boobies. Boobies themselves, and like you said, all shapes and sizes, natural. I do understand reconstructive surgery and don’t really have an opinion on surgeries. I do know when people suggest I get a reduction, the thought horrifies me, it is my body, you are asking me to cut up, you know?

    • What’s not to love, really! I don’t think you have to be attracted to women to find pleasure in admiring the female form. It’s soft, curvaceous, delicate… whatever soft adjective you want to use can probably apply. That’s a very appealing thing!

  7. wow this is enlightening. mine i think is average, sometimes i feel envious about a cousin who have bigger ones (naturally), but i guess im happy mines are not as large as that. im just content with what i have. 🙂

  8. I must say that out of any other body part I have my chest is definitely the one I’m most proud and happy of. I like that you say no matter what size, or what type, that women should just appreciate what they’ve naturally been given.

    • Regardless of size or type, the female form will always be more attractive than the male form.

      Maybe I’m biased. I dunno. 🙂

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