It’s interesting to read the variety of experiences that contributed to each of us becoming “breast men” or “breast obsessed” in my case. It’s not something that I’ve ever apologized for or been the least bit embarrassed about. I simply revel in the pleasure of it all. Anyone who’s known me longer than a few days could probably tell you of my fondness for big tits. And I feel fortunate to live in a time when girls seem to be getting bigger (and getting bigger even younger) than ever, which brings me to why I’m the way I am.
I suppose I was a sitting duck for this breast fixation to develop. Both my grandmothers were well endowed in the bust, as were most of the other women in my family. But it was my mom’s younger sister Carolyn who started me on the road to this outright obsession. Her daughter, my cousin Jennifer, “put the nail in the coffin” so to speak.
My aunt Carolyn got married before she finished high school. As a kid, I heard the stories about how she “had to get married”. Later, I heard the little family joke that Jennifer was born just 5 months after their wedding. At any rate, she and my uncle had a running start on their family and they just kept on going and going.
I was about 10 or 11 years old I guess, when I really began to notice how big her tits were. You know, that age when you first go “WOW – look at THOSE things.” She was so much bigger than the other women in the family, and it seemed like she grew larger every year. It wasn’t my imagination – I just didn’t realize she was pregnant all the time. Every time she had another baby, her tits got even bigger than they already were – and they stayed that way.
By the time she was 27, my poor aunt ended up with 8 [censored] – and the biggest pair of tits I’d ever laid eyes on. She didn’t really flaunt them, but she made little effort to hide them either. I remember lots of sleeveless blouses that I could see right in to. And this was back in the “hippie” days when women her age would routinely go without a bra. I could always tell when she left it off because she would wobble – even after she sat down.
I was 12 at that point, and at the height of my curiosity. Jennifer was 10. That was a year for some memorable events, one of which riveted my attention on breasts forever. I didn’t realize it at the time, but my aunt was nursing her youngest baby. I just knew that she looked bigger than I’d ever seen her before.
One day I barged into her bedroom without knocking – we were told we could use the bathroom in there if the other one was occupied. She was sitting on the bed and in the process of pulling a T-shirt off over her head. It was one of those days she wasn’t wearing a bra, and I just about lost it. There were two of the biggest bouncing, quivering, jiggling, wobbling KNOCKERS you could imagine – bigger than even my wildest dreams. I let out a gasp.
For years I’ve scoured the internet to find anything that could even remotely describe what I saw until I finally found it – THIS is what I saw:
Big, blue veined, fat nippled wobbling tits. I was 3 shades of red of course and apologizing all over myself while she just took it in stride and casually pulled a sheet over herself. “Just getting ready to feed the baby, honey” is all she said as she smiled. She told me to go ahead and use the bathroom. Needless to say, this had a profound effect on me.
Later that year, Jennifer began to follow in her mother’s footsteps. But that’s a whole other story.