I don't think I'm the best example of a breast man - at least in terms of the BEA. I have found that over the years my interests have moved toward the breast for a wide range of reasons. Thinking back to the watershed events that helped to focus my attention I have hit upon three distinct moments. There have been other general occurrences but these are the three that I think made me the "breast man" I am today.
First - The very first time I ever "noticed" breasts on a woman. I must admit that they were pointed out to me by a friend - so I was prompted. One summer around my 9th birthday a group of the neighborhood [censored] started going from backyard pool to backyard pool each weekend. That way our respective parents would get a break every so often. By the middle of the summer we had worked our way down the block to the home of our friend Heather. The gang of fellow [censored] took over their back yard. My best friend and I had just set our beach towels by the diving board when Heather's mom came out of the pool. My friend leans over an says, "Heather's mom has some really big tits". It was a shock for me because for starters my friend was a girl and girls just didn't say things like that at that age, also she was right. Heather's mom did have a very large pair. Somehow I had never ever seen that! I was amazed more by my lack of awareness than by the huge breasts now walking past me. How could I not have ever seen those things? From that point on I tried to make a note of the figure on women because it appeared that other women noticed them even more than I did - go figure.
Second - Is just a name, Dawn S. By the fourth grade you start to see the formation of all the cliques and petty groupings at school; the popular ones, the jocks, the nerds, to name a few. This sort of thing didn't make much sense to me. People who had been good pals one year suddenly didn't even want to be in the same room with you. Anything that set you apart instantly made you a pariah. This was bad enough for those of us moving through the school years together but was even worst for anyone who's parents moved into town. Into this came Dawn. She had been held back a year when she was in the 1st grade so she was already older than any girl in my class. She also was endowed with an impressive chest for the 4th grade. The first full day of school I remember the girls' gossip on the playground. "She is such a slut!" "Who?" "That new girl." "That one with the boobs!" "What's her name?" "I don't know." This made me angry. I was the second tallest in my class and was getting picked on for it, and here these girls where already attacking Dawn without even knowing her name. I made an effort to get to know Dawn and try and "protect" her by being a decent friend. Because I was big the other guys stopped picking on her and because I was a guy the other girls either got jealous or simple moved on to another "unattached" girl to tant. Dawn and I had a nice platonic friendship up through High School graduation when her family moved again. What stuck with me was the effect that just a pair of breasts have on people, both boys and girls. The irony is that many of those same girls ended up with larger chests than Dawn, I guess by their own logic that makes them all even bigger sluts!
Last, where Heather's mom made me distinctly notice breasts and Dawn taught me that they had the power to shape the emotions and actions of others, i.e. that they had power of a sorts, it was a chance meeting that opened my eyes to the fun side of boobs. By my senior year I felt that I knew the "type" of woman I liked, as if they come in flavors. I knew that they needed to have a figure with some curves and that they needed to have the emotional maturity to match and "support" what they had or didn't have physically. Unfortunately it is very rare to find that combination in the 18 year old. After track practice one late school day I was walking back to my car when I saw "Cindy". Every school has a "Cindy" - she is the thin girl who has the biggest chest in your grade by far. The one that everyone knows simply because of this one fact. They invariably get ostracized to the edge of the popular group, or the artistic group or such. I had seen her teased or picked on occasionally, but that had waned as she had continued to grow into the middle of the alphabet, possibly due to some undeniable feeling of pity that she generated. Well, she was just standing at the side of the parking lot looking up the street. It was late in the day and my gallant nature kicked in and I spoke to her for the first time in years.
Turns out she was waiting for the "late bus" that made its rounds to the different district schools to pick up those few students that had late after-school events. Unfortunately she had just missed it. So, I offered to drive her home. My first car was a tiny sub-compact that I just fit in vertically. Well, "Cindy" just fit in horizontally, she was that big! Her chest extended most of the way to the dashboard. I was determined to make a good impression and try in my little way to counter the years of ridicule and derision she had accumulated. I looked only into her face and was making every effort to be polite. As we drove from the school and came to the first intersection I checked to the left and then to the right. Her chest literally blocked my view down the hill to the right. I was in a quandary! How do I maintain my composure and act the perfect gentleman and still tell her that her chest was blocking where I need to look without going through some odd body gyration to either look well behind or over her. "Cindy" figured it out as I started to crane my neck around and said "Oh, pardon me. They wanted to look too." and curled herself down and into a slight tuck so I could just see over her head. That little exchange broke the ice and we talked all the way back to her house. I only saw her around a few other times before graduation and we never talked. From that one conversation I learned that boobs can be fun, they can have names, they can become integrated into a woman's persona. And, if that woman has a chest of a certain size that it almost invariably forces them to deal with having a chest. It gives them, by default, a "take me as I am" personality. I was resolved to find a "Cindy" of my own someday.
So - I'm a breast man. But more of a connoisseur of breasts. Like matching the right wine with the meal you've ordered. Or for some, the right soda with your hamburger. If you can get everything to match it can be a great meal! There is a time and a place for every breast size, just make sure it's part of a complete meal... oh, and super size mine!
-thanks for reading all.