What is it with guys and their fascination with women's breasts? And what's up with women and their fascination with their own breasts? Our culture seems to have developed an unhealthy fixation for all things pertaining to tits. As a piece of personal outerware, boobs are a nice add on. But if they get too big, you wonder whether there should be a counterweight hooked to the butt in order to maintain an even keel.
Women will get a boob job. After they have had the size 44 D implants implanted, they are sure they will become popular. Sure the guys are going to look. We cannot help staring at women's breasts. I think it is a genetically inserted gene that creates the need to look at breasts. Any breasts. Big ones, small ones, danglers, old ones, new ones. We just cannot resist that first impulse to look. Where women make a mistake is they think with the look, a judgement is being made. Sometimes yes, but more often than not, it's just an uncontrolled action and the guy thinks, "Damn, did it again. Why can't I look at her without noticing the Ta Ta's?"
Believe me, most guys do try to not be disgusting sex crazed pigs. But when you ladies walk around looking like you do, sounding like you do, and swishing like you do, you make it hard for us. And it doesn't help matters when you rearrange things to a natural focal point. Let's face it, big boobs just shout, "Lookee here, we want to be gawked at". So we do what we think you want us to do. We look. And then get slapped upside the head for our trouble.
Personally, I favor jugs that look like they belong. When a 115 pound woman walks by sporting a set of 40 pounders, I am not titillated. I am awestruck. Astounded and perplexed that she could possibly be proud enough to have crammed them into a tube top too small with no support structure to keep them from knocking her out should she need to move out of the way of, say a runaway truck or crazed cab driver.
But supposedly the bigger the boobs, the better. I have always been puzzled by this. As a kid growing up, I was certainly fascinated by the buxom young wenches I saw in the various skin mags my friends stole from their fathers, uncles, or brothers. We would all sit around and go, "Whoa, check out this set." Pass the mags around and be predictably impressed by the big racks. But rather than cause my pubescent juices to flow, viewing large bettys had the opposite effect. I found small breasted women much more attractive. And still do. And besides, I'm a butt guy. But that's another tale.