Back in the 1950s, when I was a teenager, my parents and I would often go on summer coach trips to the seaside or wherever. ( For those of you outside the UK, a coach is a bus with comfier seats and has to be hired for a specific destination.) In the next town was a second-hand bookshop owned by a very charming elderly gentleman. One Sunday, he and his wife, a fairly large lady, came with us. Because of size restraints, the central aisles on British buses and coaches are fairly narrow, so most folks find it easier to move sideways back to their seats. As this lady "crabbed" past me, (Mum was in the window seat and I was in the aisle one ) I had the shock of my life. She was wearing a long skirt and a loose satin blouse, but the front of her blouse was stretched right down to the level of her crotch by two ENORMOUS breasts, obviously unsupported as they swung ponderously from side to side as she moved. Oh how I would have loved to reach out and feel them, but having been brought up "properly" I would not be here now to tell the tale.
A few years later, a friend in the next village built his own open topped, 3-wheeled touring car from all spare parts and oddments, and invited me down one afternoon for a spin to show it off. On returning, he invited me in to tea. His Mum had put on a nice spread for us and sat opposite me across the table. She was a very plump lady with a round, beaming face and thick pebble spectacles, but she was wearing a very low-cut dress, out of which bulged two huge white football-sized breasts which rippled and jiggled with every movement. I felt rather uncomfortable as she hardly took her gaze off me, and she would constantly get up and lean towards me to offer "another slice of cake" or "another cup of tea?" Every time these colossal udders would swing and wobble wildly.
Sadly, in my years of searching for a partner-for-life, I never again encountered any well-endowed ladies, but, as they say..."that's life!"