Why is it that, in our society it is perfectly acceptable for a man to bare his chest in public, whereas, in the main, it is utterly unacceptable for a woman to do so? Why, when the sun is beating down, Master C can whip off his top in public, yet my top has to remain at least partially covered?
OK, so while Master C’s chest is broad, well-muscled and quite hairy, mine is smooth and has two rather large, bouncy appendages attached to it, but so what? In terms of the relative amounts of exposure, they are exactly the same.
So why is it that a man’s chest, no matter how awful, is socially acceptable but a woman’s chest, no matter now nice to look at, is deemed inappropriate for public consumption? Why are my boobs deemed to be offensive, inappropriate, morally scandalous, etc., yet any Rab C wannabe can whip off his string vest and flash his moobs and no one bats an eyelid?
Personally, I see this as discrimination. Did we girls ask for our mammary glands to become sexualised? I’m pretty sure we didn’t; but yet, if we tried exposing them in public, we could be done for indecency. Indecency? Really? Have you seen what some guys inflict on the poor unsuspecting public?
Now, in all honesty, I don’t really want to see even more flesh on display in and around the High Street during the summer. And while I’m quite happy to get them out, where custom allows, at the beach, on in the privacy of my own garden, I very much doubt I would bare them whilst going about town; there’s a time and a place after all. But, my point is, should I not at least have the choice to do so? Failing that, should guys be forced to wear vests?
I do wonder sometimes if our society has its priorities seriously mixed up.
Now, when it comes to my own boobs, I have something of a love/hate relationship with them. They are, very easily, my most noticeable feature. At 34DD, they aren’t by any means massive, but they do get a lot of attention.
As I’ve just stated, my boobs get a lot of attention, they have done since they first began to swell when I was 12. Now, I don’t mind attention; the fact I write a sex blog kind of implies that I am, at least, a bit of an attention whore, but I do wish men would actually try and make eye contact with me some times. I am, after all, a living, breathing human being, and not just simply a life-support and transportation system for a pair of breasts. Now I accept that men, and indeed a lot of women (me being one of them) like boobs and men are biologically programmed to ogle them, and I am more than happy to be ogled, but here’s the thing, they don’t talk back, and a little appreciation of the bit that does talk, when it is talking, and not just wrapped around a guy’s cock, would be nice.
Another issue with my boobs is that for one week in every four, they hurt like fuck! I have to sleep in a sports bra; I frequently have to wear two bras for additional support. Showering the week before my period is due is a particularly painful experience; and as for being touched … well just don’t even go there. Sex during that particular week is something that has to be approached very tentatively and my boobs have extremely minimal involvement (which is a shame, as I love having my boobs played with during sex).
Then there’s clothes… Bra’s in particular can be a chore. Trying to find a nice/pretty/sexy bra that is comfortable, provides adequate support and doesn’t cost a fucking small fortune is extremely difficult. But it’s not just bras, clothes in general can be difficult. Being of otherwise average proportions, trying to find a dress that doesn’t just hang down from my boobs can be difficult. Almost all of my dresses have to be worn with a belt. Now, I love sites like ASOS, their stuff is affordable and it’s nice, but I do wish they would occasionally employ some larger breasted models so that women like me can have a more realistic idea of what their outfits will actually look like when someone of a slightly top-heavy variety tries to wear them.
Then finally, there’s the biggie, which put at its simplest, and given my family history is that at some point in the future, they are very likely going to try and kill me. Having lost my gran to breast cancer a few years back, and with my mum having recently had a lump removed (she has made a full recovery thankfully), it’s one of the reasons I devote so much time raising money for breast cancer research.
Despite all of the above, and sometimes, in some instances because of it, I do, however, love my boobs.
Firstly, and somewhat ironically, my boobs get a lot of attention, and they have done since they first began to swell when I was 12. As a result, I was always getting chatted up by boys in school and, as I got a bit older and going through my “promiscuous phase”, they definitely got me noticed, and almost certainly contributed to me getting shagged. They also get a lot of attention from they men and women I have sex with; a different sort of attention, granted, but it’s an attention they enjoy very much, and leads me to my next reason.
They are super sensitive. I am one of those lucky women who can come simply from having their boobs and nipples stimulated. If you don’t believe this is possible, try this article from “Sex With Emily”. I first discovered this, on my own, when I was about 13. Of course, I didn’t know it was an orgasm back then but it felt fucking fantastic. It wasn’t until a few months later that I experienced an orgasm through rubbing my clit that I discovered it was a very similar sensation. When I was with a boy, I loved having them play with my boobs, whether through my clothes, or, with the more adventurous ones, when they put their hand up my top, nudged my bra out of the way and gave them a proper grope. My knickers would be wet with anticipation just at the suggestion that I was going to get my boobs felt up.
That hasn’t changed as I’ve got older. Sometimes, when we’re lying snuggled (and fully clothed) on the sofa watching some late evening shite on the telly, Master C can bring me off just through gentle caressing and the occasional nipple tweak.
I love playing with my boobs and I love having them played with. I love having them kissed, licked, squeezed, teased, nibbled, caressed and I especially like having a load of hot, sticky cum dropped on them.
On the whole, even though the hate can be quite intense at times, especially at the aforementioned time of the month, the love complete outweighs the hate. In a very real sense, my boobs make me the woman I am. I just hope I have them for a long time to come…