First-Big up to Taz for fixing the fresh-jpg. I gave up hope myself. I'm into trinities. I can't name just one of my favorite things. It's always 3 at a time. This morning I was pondering the three influences that made me a BE-man.1. The Benny Hill Show: The various breast and BE references and the madcap context Hill put them in was my initial foray. I'm still searching for something that equals that lighthearted experience, everythinh nowadays just seems too cynical i.e: The Man Show.2. Goldie the Action Figure: She's still around here somewhere but sometime around the third grade, during my action figure hoarding days (Star Wars, Tron, Masters of the Universe-y'know He-man vs. Kirsten Dunst-er-Skeletor), I came across a rare military series of figures consisting of rubber-heads and full cast iron everything else. The 2-inch cast iron form distorted the figures, making the male figures' muscles huge and having the same effect on the chest of poor Goldie the sole female or Smurfette of the series. Imagine a golden Dolly Parton action figure (with Kung-Fu Heave), her rack protuded like two watermelons, and no the figure can't stand up without falling over. Like I said, it's still around here somewhere, partly for nostalgia, partly because I can't believe that she actually made it to the children's market. 3. This is the major influnence, one that captured my imagination, one that I still cant get over 13 years after the fact. And in your replies to my posts you all mention how lucky I am, and yes I do feel lucky to have daily expereinces that seem like a non-violent Andy Siaris movie. But I feel especially blessed to have been seated next to the girl with the biggest boobs in the school system in the 9th grade ad one who had the nerve to try out for the gymnastics team. It happened sometime between the 7th and 8th grades a new Italian girl lost in the crowd at school began her first growth spurt. Understand, now our class had the good fortune to have two very attractive girls undergoing simultaneous prodigious development. Every week was like an election "Naw, it's "A" this week she's ahead in the polls by an inch and a half". "Wait! I just had gym with "B" she's mking a comeback". Notice I said attractive girls there was a forgotten third, only I liked, stumpy with a bulbous nose , still cute in her own right, that had exploded beyond DD-cupdom already. The girls in question were lookers, button noses, big doe-eyes and Colgate smiles one black, one Italian, which really made no difference. By the end of the 8th grade girl "B" the Italian, won in a landslide but was still apparently "campaigning through the brassiere alphabet" through the summer "pausing" at a 40-DDand in the seat next to me in Biology. We all are aware of how adult society acts toward big breasted women, not adult at all right? Now imagine how a cramped inner-city junior high school reacted to those passing through the hallway. Now place a healthy young male next to her, with her fondness for tight sweaters and how she rested them on the table , even though she was reclined in her seat. Meet Craig Mercer!
The Best Day In Jr. High EVER: I mentioned before that she went out for gymnatics class which was typically a closed door all female after school practice, we all tried to get a glimpse "Porky's" style through the door of the gym and were all shooed by the teachers. Well wouldn't you know, the class, one glorious Friday, invited the entire school to a recital of sorts everyone with a dick showed up early knoing what to expect. I caught a few of our waif-like gymnasts preparing nervously in the shadows in their Mary Lou Retton (it was still the 80's yall) leotards showing off their uh ribcages. Wait what's this? One of these [censored] is doing her own thing! The girl of the hour is trying to sneak out there in a heavy sweatshirt! I panic, she's having a discussion with our gym teacher Mrs.T, trying to read lips. I guess the topic was sweats or not, she was going to stand out either way. God bless Mrs. T! She peels off the sweatshirt nervously shaking like a leaf, revealing two heaving blimplike spacehoppers filling out her leotard at 1600 PSI's. Showtime. I've been to 5 continents, seen the Great Wall, the ceiling of the Sistine chapel, topped the WTC, Empire State building and the Eiffel tower. All pale compare the ultimate photo opportunity created when the squad lined up abreast and her massive DD boobs blimped out across the wall of A-cups like Whatchacalit Rock in the Australian outback. HOLY SHIT! An audible gasp through the whole gym, then a pregnant pause during which you could hear a pin drop. A PA announcement, cue the music then a 20 minute display followed during which I learned these things:a. Sports bra technology in the late 80's still had a long way to go. In her approach to the horse she tapped her chin twice with those puppies at full gallop.b. Leotard tech though was rather impressive, even I was nervous that she was gonna burst the seams under her arms. The thing simply wasn't designed to accomodate such enormous endowments.c. Thus began my lifelong respect and love for the well endowed. She was tearing up at the beginning of her performance from embarassment, yet she perservered and proved that you can be a competent athelete even can't see your own feet. As the year progressed we grew from acquaintances to best friends. I could always make her laugh-hard. And she always brightened my day with her attitude. Embracing her for what could be the last time following our 9th grade graduation banquet was a heartbraking experience, both because her huge warm bazooms crushed my whole chest through the silk blouse she was stuffed into, but beacause out frendship had transcended all that. I saw her twice maybe three times after we went to separate high schools each time on the run. In talking with old friends that went to high school with her, I learned she went through another spurt; from huge to humongous. I even met someone at college 1000 miles away who knew her and we both clicked when we mentioned them.Sure enough, I'm at home after my first year at school. When there across the street is a strangely familar woman in a white T-shirt, black miniskirt and black stockings about 110 lbs slim with 10 lbs. of breast encased in a huge lacy bra hanging to her waist and jutting out a goog 8 inches. A classic sighting, before we called them sightings! I caught up with her, sure enough, the face matched. The next hour or so we spent together were surreal. The stares, the stopped traffic, the whispers across the street. Not to mention the punctured garden hose we passed spraying with both of us and soaking her massive right boob, incredible but true. She had a boyfriens and we talked about relationships for awhile and went to her apartment for a drink. On the couch I watched in awe, she was simply huge easily in H-cup territory and manuevering though this cramped little apartment, she was barely clearing the doorjambs. They rested in her lap as we talked for a spell longer. Unfortunatlely I had to go, didnt want her extremely lucky but possibly insane boyfriend showing up suspicious. One more parting embrace, the last I saw her 9 years ago. This one smothered my whole torso down to my own waist. Whoa!