I like boobs.
There, I said it. The fact is I know a lot of gay men who like boobs. It isn’t a sexual thing; it’s an appreciation for thing of beauty … and power. Surprisingly, I know a lot of lesbians who also like boobs. Who knew?
Why do guys like me like boobs? One reason – jealousy. I am jealous because women can accentuate the one thing that makes straight men crazy anywhere, any place, any time and not get in trouble.
Mary Jo on Designing Women discovered the power of big boobs when she tried on a pair of falsies. Men did anything she asked. As a co-worker of mine said, “You got the goods; you get the service.”
Do you have a big presentation in front of room full of potential male clients? Ask Sally Rogers for her low cut V-neck dress. Chances are you’ll not only get the contract, but also referrals.
Harriet Lane, niece of President James Buchanan, the first woman to be called First Lady, and subject of the book, HarrietLane, America’s First Lady by Milton Stern (I’ve heard of him), learned early on the power of her bosom. She had the neckline on her inaugural gown lowered two and a half inches. By doing so, she became the most influential fashion icon of her time, and the most powerful woman to live in the Executive Mansion during the nineteenth century. She convinced many a Congressman to push legislation through the chamber. If you don’t believe me, buy my book.
Men can’t do this. We can’t walk into a room full of potential female clients wearing a pair of pants with a low cut V-neck … uh waist. That would be sexual harassment. And if a man has nice hairy pecs, he can’t wear an open shirt to get attention unless he takes a time machine back to 1975 and wears a leisure suit to work.
Want to distract a straight man and turn him into a babbling idiot? Have a big breasted woman stand in front of him. Works every time.
Which brings me to my second reason we like boobs. People look at them. You think they can help themselves, but they can’t. Even straight women look at boobs. Of course, when they look at them they are asking themselves, “I wonder if those are real?”
When I would do drag, I made sure I had the biggest, firmest rack you ever saw. And even though I was a six-foot-nine-inch man in a dress, my boobs still got the most attention. Straight guys would grab them, lesbians would drool over them, and gay men would compliment them. And these weren’t those horrible breast plate titties the drag queens pay hundreds of dollars for today, these were plush dog toys stuffed into a size 52, double-E bra! I didn’t even have nipples!
Even though Serena was wondering what happened to two of her soccer balls while I was out, I still enjoyed the power of big boobs. My jugs had everyone’s attention.
The third reason I like boobs is they are beautiful. When I see a sex scene in a movie, I cannot stop studying the breasts, and I have learned to appreciate nice breasts. I went with my friends Mindy and Ellen to see Frida, starring Salma Hayek. When she first took off her top, I said to Ellen, “Now that is a nice pair of breasts.” And she said, “They certainly are.” Ellen also has a nice rack.
Once on the Metro, this young woman was standing with her boobs at my eye level and wearing a tight sweater. She had the most perfectly shaped and sized breasts, and I wanted so badly to touch them. I don’t know why. It isn’t as if I had never touched boobs, although it has been more than twenty-five years. The last girl whose boobs I touched is a reader of this blog, and I can honestly say they were very nice breasts, and I am sure they still are!
My boob obsession almost got me in trouble the other day in the office. One of our clients, as we call the government employees for whom we as contractors provide a service, is a young, attractive, recent college graduate who is a real go getter and really gets things done – a rarity in the federal workforce. She also wears fashionable clothes and rather low cut tops. I am not sure whose attention she is trying to get because in her agency, the majority of the workforce is middle-aged women and a sprinkling of some of the most unattractive men on the planet earth. She does wear minimal to no make-up and a fashionably short hairstyle. Maybe she’s into middle-aged women. Or, she dresses like that to get things done.
I had some materials for her that were too large to email, so she came down to get a CD from me. I didn’t know she was standing behind me until she said my name. I grabbed the CD and swung my chair around, and the next thing I knew my nose was within inches of her beautiful cleavage. Her top was cut to almost the bottom of her sternum. In those few seconds, I realized a few things.
God has blessed her with a bounty of mammary goodness. Not only are her breasts large, they are perfectly formed and firm, and I'll bet anything they are real. Of course, she is at that age when all the body parts are still where they are supposed to be as opposed to my age when everything is a few miles south of its original location.
If I walk around the house naked, I get rug burns on my testicles.
I also realized that I couldn’t lift my eyes from the sight before me. While I was holding and waving the CD above my head in the hopes she could grab it, I continued to stare at those lovely tits. They were just magnificent.
It is a good thing she was in a hurry because the last thing I realized surprised me. I wanted to bury my face in that fertile valley and play motor boat.
Now, I know why the straight man sings.
One last thing: I was a bottle baby.
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