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I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes.
I'm not about my breasts; I'm just about good health, OK. I'm not afraid of doing what I need to do to stay here. I really don't understand women who are in denial, who don't want to go for a mammogram. I think it's stupidity. Sorry. I have no patience for that.
Women are always complaining about men's fascination with breasts. But what if men were absolutely indifferent to breasts? What would women do then with these things that serve one function once or twice in a lifetime, and the rest of the time are just in the way?
Scientists now believe that the primary biological function of breasts is to make males stupid.
With small breasts, you don't have to wear a bra with dresses that have some support. It feels sexy without one.
Not much has been written about the Nereids of modern Greece. Wherever there is a warm, healing stream they believe that it flows from the breasts of the Nereids.
It's my body. And I like my body. And I like my breasts. And no, they're not fake.
I'm particularly fond of boned chicken breasts with a little garlic under the flesh and cooked in a casserole for 40 minutes with a jar of olives, some cherry tomatoes and a spoonful of olive oil.
May I say, if you were suddenly put into a woman's body, wouldn't you be slightly interested in your breasts, and why people look at certain parts of you, and why certain parts move like they do?
I don't want to discuss my breasts with the whole world!