Size

Size matters.  But probably not as much as I once thought that it did.  Size makes a difference.  But probably not as much as other things.

It may seem like the attraction to breasts is purely based upon size but that’s probably a gross oversimplification.  It’s just that breast size is the most obvious thing about them.  Large breasts usually have some movement to them and, like a dinosaur, it’s the movement that captures the the eye.  But really?  I don’t have a walnut sized dinosaur brain and I can see things that aren’t swaying with every step.

At one point in my life, I thought that C-cups were sort of perfect.  Not too big, not too small.  Perfect!  Then I met and fell in love with a woman with DD breasts.  And I’ll be damned if they weren’t perfect.  Then along into my life came a series of women with B-cups.  And my god, those were perfect, too.  Saying that you love breasts but only large breasts is like saying you love women but only love blondes.

I sometimes refer to breasts as … a snack tray.  Yes, I realize that makes me sound a little bit like an asshole.  But it isn’t entirely off base.  They are like a snack.  Like an appetizer.  An amuse bouche, if you will.  Something to whet the appetite.  Something that makes you hungry for more.

Which leads us to …

Sensitivity

This is where it’s at.  The more sensitive the breasts, the more likely the woman is going to let me play with them.  I don’t care what size the breasts are if all I get to do is sit there and stare at them.  What’s the point of that?  That’s not getting me anywhere.  That’s like owning a Lamborghini you’re not allowed to drive.  Or that never warms up and goes above 10 miles per hour.  I don’t get it.

But a woman with sensitive breasts… talk about all the difference in the world.  Now we’re talking about a pimped out Honda huggin’ the rails at 145 mph.

Wow.  I make really horribly insensitive analogies.

But you get my point, yes?  That sensitivity is a much more important factor than size.

Most of all, however, is the Woman.

The Woman

There is the least to say about this.  Not because it is the least important or relevant.  It’s just that this is the simplest of them to understand.

If you love her, you love all of her.  And when you look at her, you see all of her.  The history of her life, her strengths and vulnerabilities, the things that have brought her joy, the things that pain her, the passion of her interests, the affection she shows others, the way she moves like smoke and the way she looks at you.

And then the thought that any part of her physical being could be separate or apart or anything less than her…  so intimately her, is inconceivable.

And it isn’t that any of this makes her breasts perfect.

It’s just that all of her

is so, so perfectly her.