Sunday, February 28, 2010
In case you didn’t know, my breasts are magnificent! It’s not just that they are giant and round and sit up under my chin like they did when I was 23. They are also functional! They produce copious amounts of white wet milk that overflow most of the day onto my t-shirts and jackets, dousing your bed and changing table with gushes of fluid when I bend over. I had no idea how similar the female form could be to that of a milking cow.
As soon as I hear your gentle cries, I feel this little tingling at the top of my breast. The tingle slowly moves down towards the areola and then I actually feel my magnificent mammary glands begin to swell like air entering a deflated tire. Once engorged, you latch on to my breasts with the ferocity of a barracuda attacking its prey. I gush like a fire hydrant and hope the force of the flow doesn’t push you off my breast. The combination of my flow and your grip make the time pass quickly. Between your gulps for air, you lightly cup the sides of my watermelon sized boobs in your tiny little hands as if touching the face of a delicate china doll.
Sometimes I worry that I might crush you beneath their weight. They are so heavy that just getting out of bed in the morning constitutes a complete lower back work-out. Of course, I wear a bra to bed to keep them reigned in so I don’t knock your father out on accident when coming back from a midnight bathroom run. Swollen to twice their size, my new porn star proportions have limited my wardrobe to stretch fabrics, v-necks and button-downs. Thankfully, I never threw away those flannel shirts from my Seattle grunge phase.
Let’s not even talk about my amaze-balls nipples! Hour after hour they are exposed to extreme sucking and nibbling and yet somehow they don’t shrivel up or fall off (even thought sometimes I wish they would). Like science fiction characters from a distant planet, the beaten down crusty and blistered nipples miraculously heal themselves between alternating feedings.
I once thought that all breasts were good for was a little extra male attention. But then you came along. I gaze down at you while you suckle and you stare back with those big blue eyes that see me like no one else before. I hold your little hand, you grip me with your soft baby fingers, it’s our moment and I know it’s my breasts that are making it all possible.
So Story, if you see me walking just a little more proud, straightening my spine to thrust my chest out before me, if you see me doing a double take in front of the mirror when I catch the girth of my side boob or the depth of my cleavage, don’t be alarmed. It’s only because my breasts are magnificent.