Almost every guy I have ever dated has told me that if they had tits themselves, they’d spend all day just staring at and playing with them. I am not getting ready to snark, or shame anyone for saying this, in fact I completely understand. Tits are fucking awesome. The thing that makes me horniest about my own body is the excellent rack stuck to the front of it. Although I don’t spend all day groping them or staring (I’m a busy girl), I do spend a fairly sizeable chunk of my time being aware of them – enjoying how they look and feel – so I thought I’d have a go at answering the unspoken question hovering beneath all those comments from all those past boyfriends. Here’s what it feels like to have tits.
Note: I’m a cis woman who has mostly dated cis dudes. I’ve tried not to be too gendered in this because tits are not exclusive to one gender, but my perspective is naturally coloured by my experiences.
Tits on display
One of my favourite outfits, especially in summer, is the low-cut spaghetti-strap top. I usually wear a shirt to cover my shoulders, because I don’t like exposing too much of my skin to the sun, but when it comes to my tits I feel it would be a waste of joy to hide them. I want my tops cut low and my bras firmly padded. As an old friend of mine used to refer to it: ‘tits on a shelf’. I want a bra that lifts my knockers and places them nice and high, like an offering. These days I usually add a necklace to the ensemble, the purpose of which is specifically to draw the eye… then nudge that eye towards my tits.
I fucking love my tits. I don’t know if this is an arrogant thing to admit or not, but fuck it. I do. They’re awesome.
When I wear low-cut tops, it is not primarily to entertain men that I fancy, in fact that’s a secondary purpose at best. The primary goal is to entertain myself. I enjoy catching a glimpse of the curve of my tits in the bottom of my eyeline. I like to see that the cleavage is neat and tight – a defined line that, sure, would be perfect for someone to slide their dick into. Or press their face into while I stroke their hair. And yes, I like considering the possibility that a guy who has followed the direction of my necklace, and observed my tight cleavage and the soft curves of the top of my tits might be idly wondering, as we chat over pints in the pub, whether I’d kneel down so he can cover my tits in his cum. But these things are, as I say, secondary. I am not usually hanging around considering how dudes might treat my boobs, broadly my thinking when I’ve got them on display is:
Phwoar. Tits. Awesome.
I don’t tend to sit around playing with them, I’m afraid, although I do often stash my vape in my cleavage when I’m reading or watching telly. And each time I reach in to retrieve it I get a little kick of horny joy as my fingertips brush against the inner curve of my breasts. They’re extremely practical in some ways, tits. You can stash almost any small object in a bra: lighters, spare cash, vapes, miniature pots of Vaseline, credit cards, driver’s license etc. If you happen to wear padded bras like I do, these small objects don’t usually change the shape of your bosom much, even if it’s crushed against the neckline of a too-tight top, they just add volume to the padding and give your cleavage a little extra oomph.
Practicalities aside, the best thing is just luxuriating in what it feels like to have tits. The sensation of them sitting there, all soft-firm and full of kinetic potential. I remember very vividly a particular backroad in Sardinia, which an ex and I drove down many times as we shuttled back and forth to our hotel on holiday. Something about the design of the hire car and the bumpiness of the road meant my suntanned tits were almost constantly bouncing in the side of his vision. On the first day of our trip he mentioned how distracting that was, and from that moment on I was hyper-aware of them – enjoying those distractions for myself. Every pothole made me jiggle, and although I thrilled with the knowledge that he was struggling to keep his eyes on the road, fundamentally it wouldn’t have mattered if the driver had been someone who didn’t care for tits at all. I care for tits. They’re brilliant!
Jiggle. Bounce. Awesome.
When I walk to and from the tube station, if I’m wearing something low-cut I am constantly aware of the way that my tits bounce with every step. When I ride my bike, each crack in the road surface causes them to jiggle inside my bra. Although I’m probably wearing a t-shirt so I can’t see them (and I like to keep my eyes on the road when I’m cycling, to prevent things like ‘death’), I can still feel the way they move. And the way they move still delights me.
The physics of tits is incredibly satisfying. Similar to the physics of having a full, round, fat-padded arse – the way it wobbles when it’s smacked with a flat, open hand. But tits are even better because they move with me, they don’t require an external force to make them do that. I could shimmy in my chair right now and… wow. Look at ’em! Amazing!
Phwoar. Tits. Awesome.
Tits and bras and boob jobs
I know that for some people, taking their bra off at the end of the day is a relief and a pleasure. I understand this. If you like your tits to be free, and bras feel tight and restrictive, I fully get why removing yours can be the physical embodiment of a big long relaxed sigh. But I wear a bra all the time, and the reason I do this is primarily because having my tits on a shelf, full and round and squished together for max cleavage, provides me both comfort and pleasure throughout the day. It’s about the bounce, you see?
A while ago, someone pitched me an erotic story about a woman who got a boob job because she loved having tits so much. She wanted even bigger/better ones to really revel in how sexy they made her feel. I was excited by this idea! Fuck yeah! Getting a tit job for one’s own personal pleasure is not only something I’ve genuinely considered myself, it’s an idea that returns to me more and more as I get older. My baps are incredibly satisfying, don’t get me wrong, but as time passes gravity does its thing, and everyone’s breasts tend to droop a little over time, losing some definition, shape and mass. So honestly, if I were a millionaire, I would definitely buy myself a boob job. I want that satisfying bra-assisted bounce-and-jiggle, turned up to eleven. Boob jobs for the win.
The guest blog didn’t work out, but the idea stuck with me. There’s definitely potential in writing about the joy of having tits, but I think it needs personal perspective which the author did not have. I could have a go at imagining what it feels like to have a penis, for example, but I’d never pull it off (heh) as perfectly as the amazing dick-having guest bloggers who have graced these pages – answering such questions as ‘what does it feel like to penetrate someone?’ and ‘what does it feel like to have someone come round your cock?’. I can lust after dick, and appreciate it from an outsider’s perspective, but I will never truly know what it’s like to have one, so there are insights I could never share just by drooling over dick from a distance.
The pleasure of having tits can also exist outside and entirely separate to the whims of third parties who might want to grab them. I would have loved to publish a piece from the perspective of someone who not only has knockers of their own, but enjoys them on their own too. Not purely as sex accessories (though they’re great for that as well!) but as a fun part of the body that brings pleasure to the owner even if there’s no one else around.
Then I realised that person, honestly, is me. I am the right person to write this. I am, in fact, uniquely positioned to write this because my brain sits here in my head, perched on my shoulders, giving my eyes a phenomenal view of an extremely satisfying rack.
The first joy of tits
I am not here to tell you that this is a universal experience. That what it feels like to have tits will be the same for everyone. We all have different perspectives, and I know many people who would prefer to have smaller tits, or no tits at all. But I think when boyfriends have talked to me in the past about how much they’d appreciate tits of their own, they often expected eye rolls or sarcasm, instead of my honest response which is:
Fuck yeah! Tits! Awesome!
As I say, your mileage may vary. But this is a genuine, gleeful explanation of how I feel about my own norks. What’s more, I have always felt this way, ever since I first started growing them.
There’s a video of me taking part in a school production sometime shortly after the onset of puberty (don’t worry, this does not go to weird creepy places) that brings back memories of the early days of noticing I had tits. When I see the video I remember not how godawful the play was (though I’m sure it was) or even the names of all the friends with whom I was performing. What I remember is how much I loved the particular dress I was wearing as my costume because the cut of it allowed me to catch regular, thrilling glimpses of my brand new bosom.
I also remember that there was another girl in the production who got brutally teased because she was caught more than once squeezing her arms together a little and trying to subtly look down her own cleavage. There but for the grace of God, honestly, because I did exactly the same. At every available opportunity. Squeezing my arms together allowed me to pretend I had more up top than I did. And having stuff up top was fucking satisfying. I distinctly remember jauntily stomping down the stairs from the back of the auditorium and revelling in the way that each step reminded me my body was different now. Curvier. Squishier. Fuck it: better. I loved my jugs long before you could even dignify them with that name.
‘Dignify’.
But while we’re on the subject of names…
A rose by any other name would NOT get me horny
Tits seem to lend themselves to nicknames. I’ve used a few throughout this post, a little begrudgingly if I’m honest. I’m only doing it to break up the repetitive monotony of me yelling ‘tits tits tits’ into your face like a drunken stag party. I asked people on BlueSky for some alternative words for tits and got plenty of responses: funbags, melons, top bollocks, milkers, bristols, boulders, assets, girls, charlies and, of course, ‘breasts’. The actual technical term. I get why so many of the names tend towards comedy. Funbags are things which titillate, and are therefore a little embarrassing. They also bounce, which is funny. And sometimes when men look at them their tongues come rolling out of their mouths and a big cartoon ‘AWOOGA’ alarm goes off.
I (perhaps obviously?) don’t want to lean too hard into any word that frames tits as comical though. Not when I’m worshipping them like this. I hate when dudes ‘honk’ my boobs. Not enough that I’d demand jail time for any partner who does it (though a small fine wouldn’t go amiss – buy me an apology Big Mac, you pricks) but I’d strongly prefer people not to do this sort of thing to me in particular. Why? Because I’m ENJOYING my TITS motherfuckers! I don’t want you to RUIN my joy! It kills my sexy vibe. If you’re not massively into tits, that’s fine, but could you please try not to desexualise one of the very few things about my body that I genuinely manage to appreciate and enjoy on my own?
For what it’s worth, in the bedroom, I will allow ‘breasts’ at a pinch or ‘boobs’ if you’re feeling shy. But no word is hotter for them, in my opinion, than ‘tits’.
How you should enjoy my tits
I tried really hard not to lean in to ways I like my tits groped, fondled, and played with at the start of this post. As I said at the beginning, my love for my tits mostly stands alone – outside the approval or appreciation of men. There are (tragically, pathetically) not many things in life about which I could say this.
However, naturally I also like it when men appreciate them too. Especially men I am fucking. One of the very first blog posts I wrote was about how much I love having my tits played with and – unlike almost anything else I wrote around that time – I still stand proudly behind the sentiment. If you’re dating me, and you’re ever wondering what the correct amount of time is to spend playing with my tits, the answer is always: ‘more’. More than you’re doing at the moment. Yes, even if you spend most nights when we’re sitting on the sofa with one hand down my top. More. Even if you include boob-squeezes and nipple play in every single fuck we ever have: more. Even if you have a penchant for coming up behind me in the kitchen, sliding your hands round my waist then upwards so you can gently cup my tits in both your palms: more.
More, more, more.
No one has ever touched my tits ‘enough’ because there is no such thing as ‘enough’ when it comes to tit-touching. Sometimes they’re a bit sensitive, if I’m due on my period, so I’ll direct you to squeeze more gently than you would at any other time, but I still want you to touch them. Stroke them. Lick them. Kiss them. Shoot ropes of cum all over them while you grunt and call me ‘good girl’. And if you want to get me in the mood for sex, they’re almost always a guaranteed gateway to fucking: there are few things more consistently likely to get me horny than a guy casually pulling down the neck of my spaghetti-strap top and the cups of my bra, then gently pinching my nipples.
My Big Ex used to do this casually, frequently, if we were lounging on the sofa and I was lying between his legs. He’d fondle my tits with such laid-back ease, then occasionally be surprised when I’d find myself squirming in wet knickers and moaning that we needed to stop watching Netflix now so he could please please please put it in me. One time I recall him opening a pack of Love Hearts and stashing a bunch of sweets inside my bra cups. Each time he dipped in with his fingers to grab one, he’d casually brush against my nipples. Conjuring the delicious agony of him rationing those sweets – and more importantly those electric touches – has me jiggling my knee under the desk as I write and wondering if I should pop to the bedroom for a quick, stress-relieving wank. While pinching my nipples, of course.
I’ve played around with this blog post so much since I started drafting. Adding details here and there as different things occurred to me. Rubbing one out when a particular memory bubbled up, all the while hunting for a conclusion that will round this off neatly. But there’s no real point to this blog post, it’s the writing equivalent of me bouncing into the pub (low cut top, tits on a shelf) and raving to you about something that’s brought me so much joy I can’t shut my mouth. A meandering babble of appreciation with no particular moral or message. I just want you to know, if you’re someone who appreciates tits from the outside – whether observing someone else’s as they bounce when you drive over potholes or grabbing them in your hands so you can marvel at the weight and heft and squish – that you’re not weird for wishing you could try out a pair of your own.
After all, some of us who have them really do get our money’s worth.
Phwoar! Tits! Awesome!
23 Comments
Oh I love this sentiment! I too enjoy my own tits. For years I thought they were the only good thing about me physically. So much so that I use to use my bra size as my online name.
My feelings for them have changed over the years, but I do still love them and want them played with often. Thanks for this great ode to tits!
I am unashamedly a tits man. I love looking at tits, I love the way they feel, I love the way they bounce, hang, and jiggle. I’m hard just thinking about and writing about tits without even looking at any. Just imagining them works for me. Caressing them, holding them, nibbling on the nipples and sensing that tingle or even spasm of pleasure a woman gets is such a turn on.
It’s a frequent subject for mainstream journalists to lament that young people are getting their sexual education from pornography. By contrast, I’ve more than once found myself saying, “Oh, you actually enjoy that? I thought that was just a porn thing.” I’ve also been more inclined to watch porn, having gotten to know a few leftist women who create it. And it’s been educational to watch, for instance, videos of women masturbating, including fondling their own breasts. At some point early on someone must have told me that, “Women don’t actually enjoy having their breasts touched”, and somehow it continues to surprise me when they do.
OH MY GOD WOW. Seriously this is interesting info! I know I have often sensed a reluctance from people when going in for a boob-grope (and wondered if maybe the tendency to ‘honk’ them is a way to dilute the embarrassment men feel about wanting to touch my boobs and thus acknowledging their sexual desire in the first place) but I’ve never actually talked to anyone in detail about this. Is the general consensus among those who don’t have them that we *don’t* like having them touched? At all? Or just that we don’t enjoy the sensation of it as much as you enjoy doing it? No pressure or rush to answer but I’d love to hear more of your perspective here.
In the interests of balance, I’d say that having a rack is not all cake and prosecco! My relationship with my girls isn’t always 100% positive. I’ve been cursing my boobs the last few weeks, when it’s been so hot in the UK. Fine when I’m working from home, but if I’m in the office all day, I just find myself longing to get home to get my bra off and then walk around holding them up and away from my skin. I can’t be the only person who holds her tits up and directs a desk fan at the skin below? Bloody bliss. Also, when I played a lot of tennis, they were a fucking nuisance. I spent more time hunting for good sports bras to strap them in with than I did picking out rackets and tennis shoes. Sleeping on your front isn’t all that comfy either, unless you spend some minutes constructing a framework of pillows to save you from lying on them.
All of that said, tits are bloody marvellous, though, aren’t they? Deployed effectively, they are weapons of mass distraction. I can’t get away with going bra-less any more (well, maybe occasionally), but back in the day, slipping on a clingy fitted dress with nothing underneath had a magical effect on men and, it must be said, a significant number of allegedly straight women.
Also, a bra is a fantastically convenient place to stash a tissue or an emergency £20 note.
Jx
I’m interested to hear the response to this as well. I haven’t slept with a guy for a while, but I can’t say I noticed a particular pattern when I was. I think a lot of decent, considerate blokes don’t like to be too ‘grabby’, believing it to be crude. For the record, if I fancy you and I’ve green-lighted you, I want your hands on my boobs. I don’t personally know any woman who feels otherwise.
I can’t speak to consensus; I have a lot of trouble untangling my own neuroses from the ambient cultural influences. I grew up with the impression that as a man, expressing interest in women’s bodies was inherently sexist, and expressing interest in their breasts was so sexist that it was like I was failing to see them as human beings, putting my own humanity into question. Obviously, context makes all the difference, but being autistic, I have a lot of trouble with fine gradations of context, and it’s played into a lot of inhibition.
Aside from that, I’ve been wracking my brain trying to recall exactly where I encountered the idea, but I could swear I used to see it said that there was nothing particularly sexual about women’s breasts, that it was a weird obsession peculiar to heterosexual men in anglo-american culture, that perhaps women’s nipples were a little more sensitive than other parts of the body, but that was all.
And then there is the problem of men’s pleasure usually being centered rather than women’s, and the problem that people may spell out preferences they believe are unusual but don’t spell out what they consider obvious.
Anyway, recently I was reading Come As You Are, by Emily Nagoski, and in one section she was describing the standard account of female sexual response, as sex researchers of the 1970s would describe it. The point was to go on to say how reductive it was, how much variation it ignored, and how it was excessively focused on physical response and neglected emotions, stress, and so on. But the thing that astonished me was that it described changes to breasts with sexual arousal, and a connection between sensations in the breasts with sensations in the genitals.
So I’d thought I’d overcome most of feelings of guilt for my feelings about women’s bodies, and then I’m reading, yes, many women feel aroused through having their breasts fondled. And I’m wondering, did this seem just too obvious for anyone to actually tell me?
Ohhh thank you so much FO – this is super interesting to read! I really appreciate you taking the time to respond to me. Firstly, let me say I totally understand this: “I have a lot of trouble untangling my own neuroses from the ambient cultural influences”. I get similar and am often trying to unpick ‘what I actually feel’ from ‘what I’ve been told I should feel’ and even ‘what I have forced myself to feel so as to not fall into the trap of immediately feeling what I’ve been told to feel’ – it’s exhausting =) The best we can do is be thoughtful about it and I really appreciate your thoughtful comment.
“did this seem just too obvious for anyone to actually tell me?” – good question! I think lots of us have ideas about what sex should be like, and what people should do, that is based on our own experiences. And many people have a tendency to go ‘well of COURSE this thing feels nice, it’s OBVIOUS’ when actually it’s only obvious to the person who’s experiencing it. I’ve been with men who have told me that OBVIOUSLY the best blow job is one with very soft lips, done gently and wetly, and that deep throat/gagging is unpleasant and only done in porn. when I’ve pointed out to them that actually I’ve sucked off loads of people who really enjoy the deep throat/gagging they seem shocked (and sometimes disbelieving). Basically, everyone’s experience is different, and no one can speak for everyone who has a particular body part about how that body part should best be appreciated/stimulated/pleasured etc.
But yeah, speaking for myself (and definitely *some* but not *all* other people who have boobs), I absolutely love having them touched and played with. It’s a phenomenal joy and one I try to nudge men I’m with towards doing as much as possible. Whether encouraging them when they do touch my tits, or requesting nipple play when we’re making out, sometimes gently moving their hand towards one of my tits, etc. That Emily Nagoski thing is correct for lots of us – tits (and nipples especially) can become more sensitive as blood flows with sexual arousal, and it’s often a teasing kind of arousal to the point where if someone plays with my tits/nipples in the right way for long enough, I feel genuinely on the verge of coming. I know there are some people who actually *can* come just from this kind of stimulation. As always, some but not all. And as always the answer in any given situation is to talk to one’s partner about what they like, and how, and when. I find these conversations pretty horny in and of themselves =)
But yeah, social and cultural stuff does come into play too – from the other side. Where I imagine a lot of men feel the way you do, because they’ve been led to believe that any enjoyment of tits is something akin to a misogynist obsession, so many women might also be turned off by too much tit play purely because they’ve been told by society that men are obsessed with tits and that tit-obsession is objectifying or disrespectful. I don’t think this, but then I’ve been lucky enough to have some really decent sex education as an adult, and the opportunity to unpack and dismantle some of the dodgy beliefs society has tried to force feed me. I imagine that discomfort is there for some people too, though.
This is super interesting to think about, and I genuinely did not expect my silly little ode to tits to get such a thoughtful comment – thank you so much for joining in, I’ll be pondering this for a while! x
tits are amazing and wonderful. However, I am in a similar boat to Foolish Owl. I was raised with the very clear message that looking at a woman’s boobs reveals that you are sexist scum. If a woman is approaching down the street, showing off her amazing tits in a low cut top, you will be amazed at the contortions I go through to look away and feign boredom. I’m pretty sure that women are also well aware when a man is forcing himself to look away. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I’m constantly trying not to be “that guy”. But tits. Yup. Nothing better.
Ah well I should be clear that one of the things that would stop me from feeling joy in my own tits would be a total stranger gawking at them in a manner that was really obvious/creepy. I personally am very aware of (and pleased by) the knowledge that people might be subtly *noticing* or glancing then looking away. BUT this is the internet so I need to stress, for the people who might be reading and thinking I’ve given them carte blanche to stare at people even when it’s clear their stares are making them uncomfortable… you shouldn’t just stare for ages and ages.
Appreciating tits is good, and normal for many. Staring uncomfortably at them is less about the tits themselves than about the treatment of me as a person – like, someone who is willing to do this is not someone who has considered my need to feel comfortable and safe moving about the world. And that is shitbag behaviour.
“I’m pretty sure that women are also well aware when a man is forcing himself to look away.” – not always, but sometimes, yes. And honestly this *is* pretty hot to me. Because a) you’ve noticed my tits and I like that and b) you’re being respectful about it, in a way that shows care for me as a person and my comfort. You aren’t putting your desire to ogle my spectacular rack over and above my need as a person to exist in a safe space. I think that’s a solid way to be.
I second that. I was about to ask how shall I behave when let’s say GOTN is sitting in front of me on the tube with low cleavage, her tits rocking with every turn the train makes… My first instinct would be to enjoy the sight, image how her tits would feel in my hands or around my dick, how her nipples would taste in my mouth. But I’m aware that would come across as as old perv leering at her, so I’d look everywhere else but her (phones, books come handy in this case).
OK here goes. You can see a bit above in my reply to That Guy about this but… basically, those of us who have tits know that other people often appreciate them. And although most of the time my tits are on display it’s because that is how *I* like them, I am not unaware of the fact that others often like them too, and I don’t blame people if my cleavage catches their eye. But ‘openly admiring someone’s tits’ is an act which requires consent. Much like… making overtly sexual comments *at* a person below the line on their blog.
Everything that happens in your own head is free. It’s morally neutral. You can imagine doing whatever you like with my tits inside your own head, it’s only when you take those thoughts and put them out into the world via your words and behaviour that you have to start considering the impact they might have on other people. So if you accidentally catch a glimpse of someone’s tits on a train, and you look away and imagine things… that’s your thoughts and feelings and they’re no one else’s business. However, if you were to stare, make comments, or do anything else, you then involve someone else in those fantasies and in doing that you require consent. If I am out and about with friends, and one of them said ‘your rack looks excellent today, GOTN’, I’d glow with delight. My friends are allowed to compliment me because they know me well enough to understand how that would land, and how to do it respectfully. Likewise if I’m sitting opposite a boyfriend in the pub and he chucked a penny down my cleavage, I would find that kind of horny and very cute. Again: consent, established over time.
As a stranger, you don’t have that though. So behave accordingly. Which means: respect. Distance. Keeping your own thoughts inside your head and not airing them directly to a person unless and until you’re sure they would be welcome. So we come to your comment and, I’m afraid, I need to ask you to reconsider comments like this in future. You’re welcome to ask hypothetical questions about behaviour etc (this one was a fun and interesting one to answer) but when you include me directly as a subject in sexual stories, it doesn’t feel very consensual. Or real, if I’m honest. I love that people think they fancy me based off my writing (my writing is, hands down, the best thing about me) but it feels kind of odd when people have sexual fantasies about me based on an imagined version of what I look like in their heads.
That Guy -of course we’re aware and, speaking for myself, pretty much always loving it. There’s a big difference between that and leery letching. Women like to be desired – just like men do, I expect. Keep looking. :)
Ohhh OK so. I am going to slightly temper this (no shade to you Jaimie, just I am a little worried about leaving a universal statement up without pushing back on it a bit). I completely agree that ‘being desired’ is an almost universal trait – most of us want to be and feel desired, no matter what our gender. However, I should caveat this with some of the things I said above to That Guy And to twostrokeguy – there’s ‘desired’ and then there’s ‘intimidated’, and I think excessive staring/compliments without consent can become frightening for many. I know you probably get this, it’s just that because this is The Internet and lots of people drop by on these kinds of blogs, I feel a bit of responsibility to say this. I pretty much always love respectful admiration and compliments, but there are many many many people out there who don’t have a good grasp on what ‘respectful’ looks like, so I would always advise people err on the side of caution.
I hope I wasn’t venting too much about old pain. I’m making a mental note about a good topic to bring up with my partner next time we’re together.
Oh no not at all! I’m not working mondays/tuesdays at the moment which is why I’ve taken a little while to reply, sorry about that! Proper reply above x
Thank you GOTN for taking the time and putting in the effort to communicate and explain the intricacies of a very nuanced issue and the all important context of consent and how that largely determines what is and isn’t acceptable with useful concrete examples to illustrate the issue.
Tits, glorious tits. Thanks so much for your celebration. Reminds me of your blog from a few years ago : Suck My Tits while I Ride You. A definite favourite with me. My own nipples get a certain attention and help with arousal. Back in the 90s they had airings at a short lived trans dance club in Upminster. Nipples and high heels were the order of the day, and was fun!
So nice to hear your enjoyment of tits. I also cycle and there is a lady fellow cyclist whose nipples and tit shape show so nicely through the Lycra that I do my best not to look at too much. Hope she enjoys them as much as you for yours!
FoolishOwl, there is a dark way of looking at the Internet Feminism Wars just after smartphones came out where the messages meant to deter sexual harassers took a lot of introverted autists out of the dating pool altogether. There was endless “don’t do this!” and very little modelling of what to do except in situations that basically do not happen for introverted unconfident neurodivergent dudes. I can see why many women focused on discouraging persistent unwanted advances, but they accidentally hurt some bystanders.
And so much advice on sex and relationships tries to avoid “ask your partner what they want,” “try different things,” and “observe how they react as you do different things, and if there is a gap between what they say and what their body does that might be worth exploring some time you are both fully dressed.” A lot of people want to know how to please men or women not the specific cute person across the table or tied on the rug in front of them
“A lot of people want to know how to please men or women not the specific cute person across the table or tied on the rug in front of them” Couldn’t agree more with this, it’s really frustrating how much advice is like ‘here’s what women want’ or ‘here’s what dudes want’ as if we’re all a homogenous mass. Better advice, in my opinion, focuses on a specific skill or important Thing. i.e. here’s how to communicate well, here’s how to frame questions to get detailed answers, here’s how to help your partner feel comfortable opening up. Way better than just ‘women tend to like this, do this and see how it goes’ or whatever.
I have to raise an eyebrow at this though: “there is a dark way of looking at the Internet Feminism Wars just after smartphones came out where the messages meant to deter sexual harassers took a lot of introverted autists out of the dating pool altogether. There was endless “don’t do this!” and very little modelling of what to do.” I get why being told ‘don’t do this’ alone can cause problems for people, but I also don’t think it is the responsibility of women who are trying to protect themselves from harassment to also take time out to give positive education on this front. If someone’s mugging you, you don’t have a responsibility to educate the mugger on how to avoid a life of crime, you can just yell ‘help’ and run away. Protecting yourself without educating strangers is not ‘hurting innocent bystanders’, it’s ‘not taking responsibility for someone else’s happiness when you’re in danger’ and that’s completely fine. There are other places that introverted dudes can turn for advice and help, it isn’t the responsibility of women who are just trying not to be harmed.
Interesting nuanced discussion. I recognize the (perceived) complexity of social norms especially around sex. i always skipped the complexity of flirting / looking. Internet dating was easier to understand for me. But it’s difficult to grow some self esteem in this subject for a shy man.
However, if you take small steps and watch the response of the receiver you can’t go much wrong, unless you’re at a Coldplay concert of course. So start trying and ask feed-back.
Absolutely spot-on, GOTN, and I stand rightly corrected. What I was trying (and failing) to say is that an appreciative glance is – for me anyway – almost always welcome and flattering. Staring/letching/leering is never good or nice and can feel threatening and scary. Jx
There is nothing that I find more arousing than to hear a female sexual partner (OK, my wife) asking me to suck her breasts.
I think it dates back to an occasion when a girl I fancied like crazy (but who had a boyfriend) stayed over and we got a bit tipsy and started talking about sex. One thing led to another and we ended up in bed together, and she said although we couldn’t actually have sex she would love it if I would play with her breasts and suck them. As I indulged her (with great pleasure) she reached down to her pussy and started playing with herself, quickly giving herself a massive orgasm. She apologised (definitely not necessary as far as I was concerned!) saying “sorry, I couldn’t help myself because I love it when my breasts are sucked”.
It is still a vivid sexual memory to this day and ever since I have loved to be asked to suck a woman’s breasts while she masturbates.
Does this in any way strike a chord with you?