This is my ‘J’ post for the Spanking A-Z Blog Challenge. “What’s that?” you ask. Check out my page here for more information and a list of all the wonderful bloggers taking part.
Jugs, jubblies, bangers, tits, dumplings, funbags, hooters, knockers, boobies, dirty pillows – call them what you will, I think we can all agree that breasts are kind of marvellous, aren’t they? (Actually please, don’t call them ‘dirty pillows’, come to think of it. That’s kind of horrible. My boobs are not dirty. They are scrupulously clean and delightful in every way.)
I love breasts, I really do. I’m bisexual so I can appreciate breasts from both sides. I like having them and I also really like other people having them. I’m not one of those people who makes dismissive comments along the lines of “What’s all the fuss about? Why get excited about these lumps of fat?” As lumps of fat go, breasts are quite, quite beautiful.
And you know how it is when your hair looks good and you feel about 300 times more attractive even if your face and body have nothing really to recommend them? I always feel that way about my tits A ‘good boob day’ and I’m instantly feeling better about myself. If I had the money, I would buy the sorts of bras that ensured that every day was a good boob day.
Of course, you can argue that breasts aren’t really there for aesthetic purposes. Their primary function is after all for the feeding of babies. But, you know, even if you have a whole herd of small children and breastfeed everyone of them until toddlerhood, that’s still only a small section of your life. Most of the time, the primary function of a lady’s breasts is to sit there looking pretty.
And for playing with, obviously. I love having my nipples tweaked and tortured and while my arse should be the primary focus of any spanking session, I do enjoy having my breasts caned or spanked with a ruler. Well, I say ‘enjoy’. It’s that whole absolutely hate it and love it at the same time thing that makes being spanked so very, very intriguing.
So, breasts, love ’em or hate ’em, well you’ve got to love them, surely? What’s not to love about a fulsome pair of funbags? As those wise philosophers The Bloodhound Gang once said “Hurray for Boobies!”.