My tits are beautiful today. Full, round, perky, spilling up and over any bra I try to stuff them into. I don’t even have to wear a bra they’re that good. And that’s something, because after all the shapes and sizes my body has taken since I first sprouted these things at age nine they certainly need all the help they can get now at 31. But this happens every 5 weeks. It’s no surprise. It’s fucking biology. I act as if I’ve never had a damn period before. Like I’m new to the functions of female physiology. Every single time. I walk by the mirror and stare at them. Look down, maybe just hold on for a moment. I love my boobs. It’s taken a really long time to feel at peace with the two things that I felt objectified and diminished for over an entire lifetime. But they’re gorgeous, they’re sexy, they’re power. If only I had someone to share this monthly abundance with. Fuck, why are my two hands the only ones cupping these perfect tits?
I take a lot of pictures. Not of my face, not of my food, not of mundane shit strategically laid out in a little grid or of my apartment or friends at parties. I take pictures of my tits. And my dog. He’s fucking adorable. I haven’t taken many titpics lately simply because I haven’t had an audience. But when they’re as incredible as they are this week I can’t help it. Yesterday I squeezed them into one of my delicate Agent Provocateur bras and sprawled out in bed just working with my phone until I got what I needed. Between every take I had to pull the lace back over my nipples because those monsters just kept popping right back out. After several positions and ranges of expression I got a serious winner. I’m not gonna to lie - I posted that shit on Instagram for a hot minute. That’s how proud I am of this picture. And how desperate I am to have someone to share it with. In the past even if I wasn’t fucking anyone at least I’d have a couple friends or a man close enough that appropriate or not I didn’t feel like I was crossing any sort of line by giving a little shot. After all, I’m on my period, I’m not going to fuck you. I know ladies - some of you think that’s nuts. But we all have our own comfort zones. When it comes to sex while menstrual it’s totally a matter of personal preference. Some women are down, they like the extra lubrication. That’s fine I hear that noise, have at it. I’m too concerned with the mess. Same reason why I’m not into anal. Which is unfortunate because that would be the natural trade off if I’m holding out on vaginal sex. My solution is always Blow Job Week. Which by day four gets pretty monotonous for everyone. Even my world class head ceases to excite after enough sessions without any sort of variety. No matter how I try to step up the game with a little prostate action or maybe way too much attention to the balls. But preferences are preferences. We all have limits. Sorry guys, I’m just not fucking you this week, but goddam are my boobs beautiful. You gotta see this shit. Please hold them. Stick your face in them. Maybe slap me once? Make out aggressively for a minute? Then we can lie on the couch and watch that Star Trek movie or some shit and lose our sex drives.
It’s not fair. It’s totally unfair and I know it. What’s so incredibly unfair is that I’m not even concerned with any one man in particular. I’m turned on by myself. It could be anyone! Once I basically forced a friend to fuck me the day before my period started but my tits had already busted out, while I sat nervously on the couch watching a Blackhawks game. I couldn’t contain myself. I was so charged that unable to remain still I was actually making him uncomfortable, he had no choice but to break the tension by lunging over, quickly sneaking a session in before his roommate got home. I had been looking down, touching now and then, not even aware, I just couldn’t contain it! I had even pointed them out earlier - I always alert. I bring so much attention to my boobs, it’s compulsive. Probably because I was raised in a tit-oriented family. My dad’s a total perv, obviously, and my brothers picked this up naturally. Being on family vacations was just an opportunity for all of them to ogle passing women as we sat out on terraces eating lunch, or hung by a bar picking at tapas. It’s all I ever heard about growing up. Of course my father loved telling me about the wonders of my own body well after I had developed into the shapely teenager that I was. I've long been self aware. I was aware in 4th grade when I had to start wearing a bra, not training bra but legit girl’s bra with indents for real ass breasts, and the looks from boys and men of all ages assaulted me daily. It took me a real fucking long time to love what I’ve got. I still don’t wear v-necks in order to maintain a little discretion. When I do I’m conscious of it without ever breaking from the thought. I can just feel that glow beaming from my chest, in the past shamefully, now just with a lack of control over how I can hold a person's attention. I understand their power. I know how pathetic they make all those lascivious men who do nothing but stare and lose concentration when I’m trying to have a conversation. They're not even out of proportion anymore, they're just plain old boobies. But hey, that's men. It's all fine by me. Now who the fuck can I distract this week??
For once I’ve decided to take the high road. Maybe because it’s a new year and I’ve made a commitment to let dead relationships die. Maybe because I’m trying not to be such a fucking bitch and I’m aware of what these tits do to men who are trying to stay away from me. Or maybe I don’t actually want to see these guys at all and I’m finally practicing self-control. In either event I’m doing everyone a solid and not sending any texts or emails, which let’s get real are likely blocked anyway. But having this smoking hot picture and nowhere for it to go I’m suddenly faced with the fact that my romantic life, my sex life, my entire male life, has totally fucking dried up. And this isn’t new, it’s been desolate for a while. Because I have been sending these pictures for a long time. I’ve been sending them almost instinctively. And I quickly get the message that they really are blocked or unwanted. Yet I’ve held onto these past partners thinking that they’ll eventually become present again. I’ve refused to acknowledge that I need a new audience. That I don’t even have an audience anymore. And that if I want someone to grab my swollen tits, slap me and make out for a few minutes then hold me on the couch, I’m going to have to put in a little fucking effort and try to meet some new people. Not only meet them, but go out able to invite some in. Believing that I deserve new men in the first place. Fuck, if it's so easy to send pics out to basically every male contact I have, what makes me think that bringing in a couple new ones is going to be so hard?
I’m not all that proud that it’s taken a titpic with nowhere to go for me to realize that I need to start dating again. Or to even understand that I want some men around. But I fucking want some men around. I don’t care how, or what role they’re playing in my life, I just need that masculine vibe and attention. I need some reciprocated sexual energy, I even need a Blow Job Week. I’d give anything to have a dick in my mouth right now. Cup a couple of balls. Maybe get my lips around them too. I’m dying for the taste of cum in my life again. I know there are plenty of guys out there who are just as eager to get a face full of this amazing rack I’ve got going today. And I’m finally ready to meet those pervy motherfuckers.
Maybe all I needed was a reminder of how sexy I really am. And to get back in touch with the power my body holds. With sent pictures only being rejected I’ve got to say I was starting to lose faith. The bitch face that turned everyone away at bars while I was convinced I looked pretty damn fine was not helping one bit. I needed my period boobs this week. And I needed to love them enough to put on a beautiful bra, get in bed with my phone and take pictures of myself with no one’s libido in mind but my own. Sometimes you need to find ways to validate your sexuality all for yourself. Titpics are awesome tools for foreplay, they’re great for communicating lust or even for expressing confidence or empowerment when you’re just damn proud. But we don’t always need a man in order to know how powerful these images are. I think my struggle today is not that I have no way to confirm how sexy I look - every time I pull it up I groan in frustration with how much I want to fuck myself - it’s that I have no one to share my desire with. I can’t use it to start a process that leads to some goddam sex. There's no action that's going to result from this. It's all personal satisfaction. But this is good. I’m finally being responsible with my tits. No longer taunting friends or ex lovers with something they either can’t have or are trying to keep clear of, I’m respecting the boundaries of all the various roles men play in our lives and saving the sex catalysts for actual sex. This will have to be only for my pleasure for the time being. I’ll keep staring at myself when I walk past the mirror. My own hands copping a feel will have to do. I’m fine with that. It’s only a matter of time before I have someone new to share these bountiful breasts with. Then I’m off to tit grabs, slaps, and coyote traps. It’s possible, it’s real, it’s basically inevitable. I know what’s up. I’ve been dealing with this for 22 years. Though my confidence and scorpion tongue give me insurmountable control over the male psyche I’m also just plain old Female. We’ve all got this thing that we can complain about or feel objectified for or think the world is unfair and owes us better. But our bodies are our power. And when we learn to love them and use them properly, well - we can get whatever the fuck we want.
Though I may hate biology every time my uterus swells and declares war on the rest of my body I can still take solace in the fact that hey - at least I’ve got these incredible tits. Let me document them before the moment passes. Let me lust over myself and think of all the countless dicks that would get hard at just the sight of me. Then when I start to feel discouraged or a little scared of the prospect of meeting new men I can come back and rest assured - I’m one hot hustling motherfucker, I'm a goddam woman, I never have a thing to fear, I can do whatever the fuck I want.