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Men who love breasts

Men who love breasts The bosom of Amber O’Hara

I have my share of “breast men” who call on me, (which is lucky because my derriere is not really anything to write home about).  For these men who fantasize about the wonders of a luscious bosom, I flaunt my body, usually dressing in low-cut blouses, which hopefully invite them to have a play at any time, even before we’ve undressed, and as a final goodbye at the end of the booking as well, when I am dressed and those boobies are contained again.

After all, how often in life do men catch a quick glimpse of a woman’s breasts when out in public, and get a bit turned on, but it would be most inappropriate them for reach down and touch, squeeze, put their hands inside a stranger’s lingerie or even bend down and lick, kiss, suck and enthusiastically rub their faces in them.  Obviously most men restrain themselves, but does that urge ever leave a man?  Is it a primal desire for the true breast man?

I love my own breasts, they are extremely sensitive and receptive to gentle tickling and touching, but I also find it a turn on if a man plays with my clothed breasts.  It seems so innocent, so adolescent.

Once when I was a young woman, a teenage boy ran past me and sexually assaulted me, or at least that’s what they would have said if I’d reported it to the police.  What he did was he ran past and “copped a feel”.  I was outraged at the time – what a cheek, how dare he, I didn’t give him permission to do that, and neither did he pay.  He didn’t realise how fast I could run, and he soon found there was a wild red-haired girl chasing after him (with those bosoms bouncing boisterously) and when I caught up with him, I pulled his hair and slapped his face.  He looked confused that I had caught up with him and even slightly aroused actually after I had slapped him.  (If you are out there reading this, you know who you are as I’m sure you have never forgotten: come and see me, pay me and I will be happy to do that again!  This time I will slap even harder!)

But seriously, the form of a woman’s breasts have been admired by men and they have had the desire to touch them and play with them since the beginning of time.  Is there anyone who is not a breast man, even a little bit?  Does it have to do with the deep, first infant love for ones mother perhaps, their first nurturer and possibly a woman who fed him with her own breasts?  No woman can ever replace a man’s mother, whether they are conscious of it or not, and I read somewhere once that even during the war when men were dying in trenches, they would often call out for their mothers rather than call out for their sweethearts.  I don’t have a son so I have not experienced the love of a son for his mother.  And isn’t it a little bit naughty that I am a naughty escort doing a dirty blog post yet mentioning the love that men have for the purist of women, those held in such sacred, high regard: mothers?  Apologies if my rambling is all a bit Oedipus for some. Really I’m just toying with you.

The term we used for the extra service offered by escorts crudely known as “tit-fucking” was Spanish.  I often wondered why this is.  The origin of the euphemism for anal sex, greek, is obvious but I can not find any information anywhere about why spanish is known as spanish.

Whatever the size or shape of a woman’s breasts, whether natural or augmented, there is a man somewhere who will love them, to look at and to touch and ultimately be aroused by them.  This is one thing in life that will never change.  I celebrate men who love breasts.

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