What I hope men think about when they’re having sex with me

Sometimes I wonder if the inside of a man’s brain sounds like the lonely buzz of a fluorescent light bulb.

In reality I suspect their brain cells are working like pistons, constantly firing.

Given that I have my own internal dialogue during sex, I can’t help but wonder:

What would theirs be?

I’m sure it must be more sophisticated than just “boobs, Boobs, BOOBS!”

Sex is one of life’s simpler moments. In the presence of my naked body, I hope a man’s mind becomes pretty stimulated and his mind takes off. Here are the thoughts I HOPE a man could have when he’s in bed with me.

  1. Damn! I forgot to shower. Not that I mind a whiff of musky body odor during sex. I just like the idea of a man who wants to prep for me.
  2. My god, these are perfect! Hopefully the best breasts are the ones that have recently been exposed for his enjoyment.
  3. I should remember this for later. Taking a mental picture of me for later. For.. you know… solo activity.
  4. “Take me out to the ballgame, take me out to the crowd …” I was once told that men sing this song in their heads to hold off the Big O so that they can last longer for their partners. I like a man who wants to extend the play.
  5. Play it cool. I want a man to think he’s totally in charge, even when he’s not.
  6. I wonder if she’d be cool if I tried ______? Every guy has his own bag of tricks and I want to be shown his.
  7. Where did she learn THAT?! I have my own moves and would like to think that I manage to blow his mind once or twice.
  8. So, um, was that an orgasm? When men orgasm, you know it. It’s a show. So I can understand their confusion when, after I orgasm, I just keep going like I’m the Duracell bunny. He doesn’t know if he should keep going? Wrap things up? WHAT TO DO?!
  9. THAT. JUST. HAPPENED. Men may not show it afterward but they’re pretty excited. Nothing else matters at this time. He has me in his arms and his brain is stewing in a bath of feel-good hormones.

Big Jugs

Every since my bra fitting where I got diagnosed as stuffing 38G jugs into 38DD bras, I’ve been thinking about boobs.

I had a friend who wore a 36M bra.

The thing about it was that since she always wore loose fitting tops, it wasn’t that easy to figure out that she was massive in the mammary department.

I remember the first time I saw them.

She was at a friend’s house and needed to borrow a bathing suit to go in the hot tub with the rest of us.

While wearing the ill-fitting borrowed suit, she turned sideways and I got a whole eyeful of side boob.

And BOY WAS THERE SOME SIDEBOOB!

Sideboob for miles and miles.

36Ms really are something to behold.

The thing is, she wound up having reduction surgery.

And in order for your insurance to pay for it, you need to have a certain amount removed from each breast.

Something like 400g or so.

I can recall the first time I saw her with her 36B boobs.

It was the first time I’d ever seen her in a tank top.

She was happy, but I was a little forlorn.

I missed her Ms.

There is a happy ending to this story though. . .

Fast forward a few years and we run into each other accidentally in a winery.

And lo and behold, THEY GREW BACK!

Yes indeed.

I think this happens quite frequently with breast reduction surgery because I have a couple of friends who have had the procedure done and they all seem to still have VERY LARGE BREASTS.

Which makes me very skeptical of the efficacy of the surgery.

It just goes to show, you can try to reign them in, but in the end, boobs have a mind of their own.

Fashion Trend Disaster: The Bralette

I don’t know who came up with the idea that it would be a great idea to give women bras to wear as tops without any other article of clothing and call it a BRALETTE, BUT I THINK IT WAS A MAN.

Actually, I’m POSITIVE it was a man.

Because what better way to get your rocks off than watch women run around in bralettes with ABSOLUTELY NO SUPPORT WHATSOEVER!

It’s INSANE!

Do I sound irritated, because I am?

I just did a search for “Burning Man” on Pinterest and at least 75% of the clothing that was listed was these stupid fucking non-bra bralettes.

I can’t wear a bralette.

I can barely find a bra that fits which is why I often stuff the kittens into too-small bras that make them look like muffins sitting on my chest.

I say I’m a D cup.

My friend Barbara begs to differ with me. She says I am AT LEAST A DD.

Regardless of how big my tatas are, one thing is for sure:

If you see me wearing a FUCKING BRALETTE, at least half my boobs will be hanging OUTSIDE the bralette.

OUTSIDE.

As in so much side boob you’ll swear you’re seeing nipple.

And so much underboob you’ll swear you’re going down on me.

I suppose what I’m truly ranting about is just simply getting older.

No one really wants to see a 43 year old woman wearing a bralette unless she’s a fitness model or a former Playboy bunny.

So consider yourself safe. I will not be walking around in a bralette at Burning Man.

Not in this lifetime.

I may be walking around naked, however.

Rant over.

 

 

“Boobs”

michelleYes, this is a(nother) post about boobs.

The other day, a friend of mine told me that her nickname is “Boobs.”

Not surprisingly, she has a very impressive rack.

When I first met her, she was wearing a skull corset that set off her assets to PERFECT display.

And the other day at her birthday party, a friend took a group photo then made a point of zooming in on her cleavage and showing the rest of the group how LOVELY it was.

They ooohed and aaahed over it.

I felt sort of awkward, sitting at a table with modestly endowed women modestly dressed, being one of the few women there with impressive cleavage and rather immodestly putting them on display.

The woman sitting across from me told me she’d kill to have boobs like my friend and I.

I started to picture all the ways in which having big boobs is an asset:

  • Sneaking booze into concerts
  • Stuffing money/lipstick in your bra
  • Hiding sushi when you’ve taken too much at the all-you-can-eat sushi bar
  • Talking your way out of speeding tickets
  • Filling out a bikini
  • And so much more. . .

Sure, they often come with a bigger butt and thicker thighs but overall, I LOVE my boobs.

They’re one of the few things I actually LOVE about my body.

So score one for the well-endowed.

And cheers to “Boobs” for inspiring her friends’ admiration and awe!

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Come for the boobs, stay for the brains

Behave.

It’s what I tell myself every single time I go on a date.

Don’t try so hard to be sexy.

Just be yourself.

But somehow I always find myself making playfully suggestive comments to my dates while smiling innocently at them.

Or giving him a lap dance at the beach (true story).

Or wearing something very low cut and suggestive.

I’ve come to the conclusion that being bad is just way more fun.

And it’s much easier than talking about meaningful things in my life.

Who wants to hear about my son dying from cancer? Or about my job struggles?

None of that is entertaining.

If I didn’t flirt on dates, what would I do with myself?

How do you figure out if there’s chemistry? What makes a man want to get to know a woman?

This is a mystery to me.

I figure when I partner up with a boyfriend, it’ll be because he just happened to stick around past all the great stuff (i.e. my cleavage and bedroom antics) to discover all the extraordinary stuff underneath that.

Come for the boobs, stay for the brains.

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BOOBS!

img_0152One thing about Burning Man which I think comes as no surprise to anyone is that there is a lot of nudity – both guys and gals.

I had no fear of being naked at Burning Man until THIS happened. . .

 

I was getting changed, out in the open, as most people do.  I pulled off my bra and freed the kittens when all of a sudden someone yelled “BOOBS!”

I was instantly objectified.  And horrified.  And embarrassed.  And angry.

What kind of mentality in a full grown man allows him to act this way?

I had a hard time interacting with him from that point on.  I was upset and not about to get over it fast.

And despite my protestations, no apology has been forthcoming. . .

Boobalicious

I often say insane things and one of my more famous quotes is, “The world would be a much happier place if we could only see more tits.”

Oversimplified? Yes, but still true.

A glimpse of the globes or a partial nip slip, and grins start to appear on our faces. It’s an interesting phenomenon, but it explains our fascination with Pamela Anderson.

It also explains my preoccupation with my cousin Jennifer’s exhibitionist ways. Tits make me happy and as a sexually frustrated, card-carrying heterosexual, I’m not embarrassed to admit it.

I don’t always check out the women at the gym, but sometimes I do. Not because I’m comparing (although I can’t say that those thoughts don’t cross my mind), but because I know that millions of men would pay to be standing where I’m standing and seeing what I’m seeing so I’m just going to soak up the view and gloat internally.

Oddly enough, I’ve only ever had one boyfriend who was in to tits, and just ‘cuz it’ll bug Jennifer I’m going to admit it was Steve. I find this a little odd and very ironic since one of my best features besides my Zezza butt is my boobs. This is just further evidence that I always manage to date THE WRONG MAN!

Manufacturers are cashing in on the boob craze with interesting products designed to lift your spirits and make you smile. Isn’t it nice to see products like this on the market, which allow anyone to enjoy not just the sight of a nice pair of tits, but also the feel?

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I feel compelled to point out the importance of not installing this in your guest bathroom (unless you have THOSE kinds of guests). Brings new meaning to “lather, rinse, and repeat!”

The difference between men and women

So.

I’ve just discovered Instagram.

I know. I’m late to the party.

What can I say, I was a Facebook girl until Facebook couldn’t keep me occupied enough during my bouts of insomnia.

Hence, Instagram.

Yesterday I went through Instagram and I followed a bunch of curvy models just to, you know, have examples of body diversity in my life.

And overall I was pleased with the results.

Until. . .

Until I discovered that a bunch of these models were really “aspiring” models who post borderline pornography of themselves on Instagram.

That’s definitely one way to get followers!

Anyway, my prudish side came out to play and I unfollowed a bunch of “aspiring” curvy girl models.

Basically at 3 am when I’m up and awake, I guess I’m not looking for a video of a woman playing with her own tits or bounce squatting in front of a camera.

The difference between men and women, eh?

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Shopping for pasties

The first thing you need to know about shopping for pasties is that you’re going to see a lot of breasts.

And those google searches are not necessarily safe for work.

The second thing you need to know about shopping for pasties is that most of the breasts you see are fake.

pasties2I suppose if you’re going to put them on display, you’re probably going to have a nice pair.

So I started shopping for pasties thinking I might wear a pair or two at Burning Man.

You know… just in case I decided to show them off a little.

pasties3The next thing I learned is that there are EXPENSIVE pasties out there, like this $180 pair I fond on etsy.

pasties1There are also AWESOME Burning Man pasties, like these:

pasties4Although I have to wonder whether crystals are playa safe or potential MOOP in Black Rock City.

Regardless, looks like I’ll be picking out a few. Just for some fun, you know.

Here are some of the pasties I think would be fun on the playa:

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pasties7 pasties8