She slapped me firmly across my face.
"I don't understand men sometimes. Why are they so obsessed with boobs?"
I could only grin.
Oh god. I'm scared to even look at this question. I...I don't know how to begin. How to even initialize such a harmonious and goddess-like topic as female breasts? How does one breach the firmament of perfection? It's the same as asking one man to build a boat in the ocean without coming up to shore first. That is what you ask of me! You ask that I throw down this bloviate writing without even preparing myself for the task at hand. Grace the graceful, they say! Well, alright!! I'll do it! This topic is FAR too important to go unanswered.
Breasts. Say the word to yourself. No, don't roll your eyes or murmur it. Say it out loud! So that the person next to you can fully understand the word it is that you are saying. Breasts. Let it roll off the tip of your tongue. Say it proud! Repeat it in your mind as you read this parsed parchment of entertaining information. Breasts. Yes, that's it. Breasts! Feel the energy surge into your penis when you flick that singular word from your eager-to-say-it mouth. Breasts! Let that twinkle in your eye glow with rejuvenation as you think of that rotund ball of joy. Breasts! Marvel at it! Breasts! Let your heart race! Breasts! Hold them! Caress them! Love them! Breasts! Yes! You feel the power! You feel the significance! You feel...a...bit...sheepish.
Why, you ask, do men like breasts? The very breasts we women have. Our breasts that we see every day in the shower as we wash ourselves. The breasts that will one day feed our future children. The breasts that get in the way of everything when we're feeling bloated or on our periods. Why, Wiz, why?! Why the breasts?!
You have no idea how glad I am first that you asked that question, and second that I am blessed with the opportunity of answering it.
Before I begin, as always. This essay is entirely composed in an attempt to describe and inform why men enjoy the ultimate and most powerful organ known as the human female breast. No where in this shall be discussed the horrifically-invented-by-the-bastard-at-the-all-you-can-eat-buffet's "man-boob." Nor will I be speaking of gorillas or chimpanzees for all of you animal molesters out there. This dire peremptory opus promotes peace so as to aid in ending the war of the sexes. ...you had better get a snack.
Your dreary eyes blink open slowly as your vision begins to become unclouded. You yawn and stretch yourself awake in your bed as you comfortably scratch yourself in arbitrary needing areas of your body. You remember the female companion that lays beside you, and you glance over. Noticing that she slept naked, as did you, you witness the sun from the window slowly rising over her breasts. The orange and yellow rays of illumination makes your eyes water from envisioning such a beautiful sight created only by the gods. Her nipple partially eclipses the morning sun as her breasts stand like two plump hills with peaks of pleasure. Your mouth drops as you notice her silky smooth skin change shades as the sun towers them with light, with the nipple's shadow growing smaller. Holding back your tears, you gulp away another breathless mouthful of air. You think to yourself "Thank you. Someone has heard my prayers this morning. Someone has blessed me." Your heart is finally at ease, it has found its true love.
Breasts, commonly known as juggs, boobs, tits, bouncers, fun-bags, the sui generis gland of happy thoughts, headlights, ....blah blah blah, et cetera, are enjoyed by my male associates for many reasons.
First off is the fact that we, as males, don't own a set of breasts. Then again, if we owned a pair of our own, I doubt we would be so harsh and vile about seeing women's. Of course, our's would have to look the exact same, not the flappy fat bodies that are obese people. Humans naturally want what they don't have, and dearest, we don't have boobs.
Society today covers the female breast as if it is some sort of treasure. I can agree whole-heartedly regarding the 'treasure' part, but there is no sense in hiding what begs to be shown. They practically burst out of dresses, tube tops, bras, and spaghetti string shirts alike. Reveal the concealed. Let them dance wildly like a flickering flame. Just watch our eyes come alive with attention as one falls out of your too low cut shirt. Why do you think breasts were put on the chest? So that it would be an annoyance to take the time to hide them. A vagina is purposely placed at the division point of your lower body for a reason. Everyone alive knows to hide that thing, especially if unshaved. Woodland creatures just may attack everyone within a twenty foot radius. Breasts are different, they point out into the crowd, often times leading the way of the woman behind. The boobs are like the horses, and the woman is only the carriage that follows.
The mere mechanics of them are fascinating. Answer me this one. Would you not be compelled to awe at something that is capable of making milk, releasing it in a controlled fashion, bounce, jiggle, grow larger or smaller, mold to your every command, act like hand massagers, are great pillows, smell great, taste wonderful, are softer than velvet, have things in the middle of them that can erect and de-erect, yet they can still smother you to death lest you forget to breathe after burying your face into them? ...Thank you, that's what I thought, too.
Toys, yes toys. Have you ever thought of what you could do with a good set of boobs? Once, I whipped out a couple G.I. Joe's in the middle of intercourse with a woman and I began pretending like they were climbing desert dunes and fighting evil nipple creatures. Naturally, she didn't get into the combat action and didn't let my men defeat the nipple monster "EyeGor," but I think that deep down, she thought it was fun. I've made hot wheel race tracks with breasts, drawn on them with markers, or even used them for plaster art in art class. My professor was a bit critical, for she didn't understand why I would mold something as simple as a boob and call it a complexity, but I begged to differ. Damn her opinion anyway. Breasts are extremely entertaining to play with. You, as women, must understand. As you sit in the tub or in bed late at night, don't you dare tell me that you don't idly fondle your B-bundles now and then, because I know you do. I've seen it in videos and hidden cameras I've set up in random locations throughout the neighborhood. From old to young, women play them as well!
They are beautiful. As a matter of fact, they compare to the beauty of tranquil oceans, lush green river valleys, and the cloudy gardens of the heavens. They are a utopia of not just sexual desires, but artistic ones as well. Why do you think the topless woman is in so much artwork? Because it symbolizes something? HA! God created women because he wanted to see what absolute beauty would think like. He wanted man to have something to live and work for. He wanted half of this world's population to gaze at the female body and want it so badly that it would strike their heart still if they could not have it. That is why we look! That is why, if given the chance, we would ogle mindlessly day after day at breasts only stopping when ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY to feed our selves and things such as that. We NEED breasts to live. It is part of the ultimate goal of our temporary existence in this plane of reality. Not having a chance at seeing at least one pair a day is a death sentence.
And finally, why do women like cute little fluffy bunny things? Or hairy chests? Or beanie babies, dolls, cabbage patch kids (one of the ugliest things I've ever seen in my life), or barbie? Why ask us why we like breasts when you enjoy things that are equally baffling in our eyes? Leave the questions either unanswered, or listen to reason! Our reason. And for the love of a healthy prostate, let us look at them every once in a while.
This is Wiz, saying eat right. Candy for your eye, melons for your mouth, and baby oil for tonight.
http://www.square-unlimited.org/articles/whyboobs.php
