The Girls are as much a part of me as any other, but since they protrude somewhat more that certain other areas, they are more distinct and noticeable.
Well, they do protrude from my body rather, it isn’t exactly easy to miss them. 🙂
Not that I give people much opportunity to miss them. In real life, they’re out there, real and spectacular. In virtual life, they’re out there on camera — check out my profile on Fetlife, if you don’t believe me. They’re the stars of the show. They even make the occasional appearance on my little corner of the Fetlife blogosphere.
What I realised today, in conversation with a friend and fellow pervert, was that it was the Girls who got me into BDSM. No, seriously.
I shall explain for you, gentle reader — from your puzzled look and audible “Uh, wha…?” I can tell that I have somewhat puzzled you, Fear not, all will be revealed.
I lost my virginity — the original one — at age 21. Prior to that I had been almost-sexually active since I was 16 — and prior to that there had been a lot of snogging but not much else. (This is what happens when you grow up a nice Jewish girl.)
However, there was always boob-feelage. The girls, in all their incarnations and all their bra types and sizes (I went through a phase of wearing sports bras for years — not the cool tops I wear now when i’m pyjama-ing it at home, but actual white bras, with little crossed tennis rackets in the middle-y area, instead of the traditional bow — they were comfortable to the point of being able to sleep in them, but they made me look awful) have always attracted attention, even when they weren’t dressed to their best advantage.
But then, that’s what boobs do.
I’ve watched men, with whom I was walking, or drinking coffee, literally do a 180 degree headspin and snap-back at an oversized pair of hooters walking by. It never bothered me, in fact it was something of a relief that for once it wasn’t my pair that was magnetizing stares all around. I remember one time laughing hilariously, when it took a while for the men in question to realise that they’d just witnessed a pair of falsies on a very attractive transitional transgender (it may have been a crossdresser, I don’t know, but he was gorgeous and had a stunning pair of titties, with a pants-bulge that did everything but complement them).
Thing was, it never did anything for me. Feeling up the girls, I mean. Licking them. Kissing them. Nothing, nada, zip, zilch.
And then one hot and sweaty occasion, someone grasped a nipple between their thumb and forefinger, and squeezed — and I nearly hit the ceiling with ecstasy.
And the rest, as they say, is history. 😎
I guess I owe the Girls a lot. More than just their own blog post. Maybe I should gold-plate them, or make images of them in plaster of paris… what do you think? Suggestions and comments in the comments area, please.