Have you ever sucked a woman’s boob? I mean take it in your mouth and suck on it so tightly that you cause her to wince and yelp in sweet pain. Is it not arousing to hold a woman tightly from around her waist like she is your captive and then devour her bare tits like those nipples were attached for your sadistic pleasure? To cause her to melt in your arms while you subject her tits to your assaulting mouth, showing the bitch no mercy. If her tits are nice enough to get you that wild, that horny, that beastly, then the bitch deserves no mercy.

I love doing exactly that to my sex partners and it should be no surprise that all the women in my life have been ample breasted. I am presently married to a 38 E so you can say that I am a boob man. How do you become a boob man, or a butt man, or a leg man? Are we born as those, or do our past arousals incline us to fall into one of those categories? In other words, can you take a leg man and turn him into a boob man? All women are beautiful in their own unique way but why does a certain genre of female beauty appeal to you more than the other? 

What you are about to read is not a story but a fragmented collection of my real memories. It is because of these that I am what I am, a boob man. I am not going to get too much into explaining why those situations were happening otherwise this will turn into a biography. Instead, I will try to jot down my memories from my earliest arousals to my present-day bedroom moments with my wife. By the time I am done, my memories will be your memories and you will see the series of events that led me to become a boob man. 

The black swimsuit 

I am running on the beach, reaching out to catch a flying frisbee as it glides a few inches past my fingertips. The boardshorts that I am wearing are too loose and every time I run, they try to fall off my hips. The frisbee lands on the white sand and my sprint turns into that lazy walk of a defeated man as I struggle to catch my breath with each heavy step.

While picking up the frisbee, I hear my step-mother call me, “Hank, come here so that I may fix your shorts!”

I am a skinny teenager in my late teenage years, with raging, out-of-control hormones, coming to terms with my sexuality in an age where the Internet has not been invented. Pornography is not a casual phenomenon as it has become today thus most of my arousals are everyday situations such as the one I am about to experience.

Martha is the only mother I have known since I was five. Unable to have any children, she has accepted her medical condition and owned me as her son. With a frisbee in my hand, I walk towards Martha like an obedient mama’s boy. She is sitting on her bum, hugging her knees as she looks at me. There is no sexual admiration in her gaze but a look of pride in the man she has raised. Then she begins to rise up and I can not help but look down into the plunging neck of her bathing suit. It is a one-piece bathing suit that moms wear around their sons, except that the neckline on this one is cut low and I can see Martha’s breasts coming together to form a deep cleavage. She puts the magazine away and then stands on her feet.

“You have sand in your hair,” she says as she begins to scrubs my hair to shake the beach out of them. Finally, she laughs and says, “let me tighten your shorts, otherwise they will drop any instant ok?”

With that, she bends in front of me to tighten the drawstrings of my broad shorts. I stand there like an obedient son, looking down, noticing her massive breasts that are almost falling out of the plunging neck of her swimsuit. My cock begins to come to life, virtually inches from her face, while she works my drawstrings.

“There!” she says as she stands up adjusting her swimsuit to conceal the pair of boobs that almost jumped out of the V neck. I look at her tits and see how nicely they fill her swimsuit. 

That moment lasted only a few seconds but it was so erotic, so forbidden and so arousing that it would influence almost all the women that I would gravitate towards in my life. Sigmund Freud was probably correct when he said that boys develop fantasies about their mothers and search for women to fulfill them when they grow up. In all my romance, I subconsciously searched for Martha.

The Closet ...

Then there was my closet. It was a claustrophobic mess of clothes that would get lost under more clothes and music CDs that were competing with comics and sports equipment for shelf space. When I was in that closet, I was in my past, my present and my future all at the same time and it was during those moments that I would hear sounds from my dad’s bedroom. There were times of intense moaning that would make me stop whatever I was doing and imagine Martha naked as he did those things to her. 

I wanted my own Martha. 

Honda Civic

It is 1999. The Internet has finally been invented and the world has started to see just how obnoxious we truly are. There is an explosion of pornography and, while facebook and twitter are still a decade away, online chatrooms have opened up a pandora’s box of suppressed sexuality. Technology has allowed distant strangers to open up to each other in ways that were not socially acceptable before. 

Yvonne Hughes is a catch that I owe entirely to this cyber revolution. Had this been a different era, Yvonne would not be sitting in my rusty, 1992 model Civic. Here she is, sitting next to the driver’s seat as I speed down the road listening to Cher’s latest, “Do you believe in life after love!” It is hard to keep my eyes on the road for Yvonne has pulled up her jeans to expose her calves. They are strong and shapely, with feet that are perfectly arched. Yet it is really not her statuesque feet or calves that drew me to her in the first place. I am a boob man, not a footman remember? 

The girl is tall, almost as tall as my own five feet ten inches and buxom, tilting to the heavier side. Yet she is pleasingly filled and carries that extra weight where it exaggerates her womanliness in the most erotic way. It is hard for me to look at her and not imagine her naked. In short, she has a body that is built for one thing and one thing only. Raw fucking! Not the slow, romantic lovemaking in dim candlelight but savage pounding that would probably kill a skinny fashion model. Yvonne is built to take it. She is my own Martha! 

“I have to see them!” I say as I keep my eyes on the road.

“Noooo!” She blushes and laughs. 

“If I do not get to see them, I will die,” I say.

“Go to a strip bar. There is plenty to see there,” she teases me opening up an opportunity for flattery.

“Yvonne, look at your feet. If a hundred strippers were dancing naked, I would commit the sin of looking at your calves.”

“Alright. Pullover but you will have to control yourself.” She says as she collects her hark hair and gathers them behind her head to tie them in a ponytail. 

I pass a gas station and then pull into the back of an abandoned strip mall. Sun has already gone down and the orange sky is turning purple. There is no one for miles and the only sound I hear is that of traffic on top of the bridge. I step out of the car, walk around it and hold Yvonne’s door like a gentleman as she gets out of the car suppressing a smile. Grazing against me, she walks towards the front of the car and sits on the bonnet. “Hank, I will show you my boobs because I made that promise. I do not trust that you will be able to control yourself so you will have to kneel down in front of me and if you try to rise from your knees, this date is over. Do you understand sir?” 

Now, this is what I call female power. Here is this girl who makes a man kneel down on the road in front of her on their first date. A lot of Internet activity back and forth has happened between us with pictures being exchanged and what not but conventionally speaking, this is our first date and here I am kneeling in front of this goddess while she looks down at me with a distant gaze and a suppressed smile, while her perfectly manicured fingers take their sweet time working the buttons of her blouse. She could not go slower and my heart is pounding for reasons I do not understand but finally, she has undone three of her buttons and I can see a glimpse of a navy blue lace bra cups, framing a really deep cleavage.

“Are we done?” she asks. 

“Nooo! I want more of them,” I say. 

“Let me think about that,” she says while crossing her arms under her tits and raising one to hold her chin as she ponders teasingly into the distance. 

“You promised and that is why I drove such a long distance. Now stop teasing me,” I plead. 

“You are a such a man, do you know that?” she says and then unbuttons her shirt down to her navel.

I am kneeling like a punished child, enjoying the glimpse of her belly, the plump roundness of her tits and the sheer depth of her cleavage. Then, the smile disappears and her face turns stern. She gaps open her blouse to expose the full upper swells of her tits and then looks down into them like she was looking deep into her cleavage. Her manicured hands crawl up her body until they reach her bra and then she pulls one of the bra cups down to release a perfectly rounded orb from the tight confines of her bra. 

It is a well-rounded melon, heavy and ripe with a dark, erect, cherry nipple that is protruding outwards. She takes the nipple bud between her fingers and rolls it, causing it to harden even more. A storm of thoughts is going through my mind. What if I was to rise up from my knees and take her in my arms. Would she really end the date? I am starting to sense intense chemistry for this woman and I do not want to lose my Martha in a sudden outburst of lust. Then, on second thoughts, a girl who takes you this far may be disappointed if you do not rise up on your knees and become a man. Now I understand why my heart is beating so hard. I am nervous because one wrong decision and I lose her. 

Then she pulls down the other cup and allows her other boob to come into view. I can not believe my eyes as I admire her twins. They are both perfect, flawless, round and heavy and my heart is beating as I watch her roll both excited nipples between her fingers. Watching her exposed breasts, I realize that I no longer wish to be an obedient son. I have played enough of that with Martha during my years of teenage arousal. If this bitch gets me aroused, she will get it because while she may be another Martha body wise, our social circumstances are different. With that thought in my mind, I spring up towards her like a tiger and she freezes! I push her back into the bonnet of the Honda Civic. 

“Liar? I knew you would not be able to handle my charms!” Yvonne laughs. 

I crawl on top of her while gazing down at her breasts. Even though she is laying flat, the mass of her breasts causes them to rise up like two perfectly rounded mounds. “I am sorry but my discipline could not endure much longer,” I say as I drop my mouth to her breasts. I take one nipple in my mouth and suck on it hard, causing her to wince while my fingers manipulate her other nipple. Then I take the other one in my mouth and take my turns going between the two, devouring and sucking. She lays there on the bonnet of the car allowing me to devour her naked breasts while my own cock begins to harden into raging concrete. I go up kissing and licking her neck until I find her already parted lips. I snake my tongue into her mouth and we are kissing each other.

“Yvonne, I want to fuck your brains out,” I tell her as soon as I break the kiss.

“Not here.” She says. 

“Let us get a motel room,” I whisper into her ear and she laughs. 

“And a condom. I do not wish to be a mother.” 

A few minutes later we are driving down the road again, looking for a pharmacy as well as a motel. Yvonne sits beside me without a seat belt with both her arched feet on the dashboard and her boobs still hanging out of her bra while she plays with her nipples. We pull over at a pharmacy and I rush in. 

“Condoms!” I yell out louder than I should upon entering the store.

“Birth Control section Isle number four,” comes the answer from the girl at the cash register attempting to suppress a laugh at my sense of urgency. 

There are all sorts on the shelf. Bare-skin, rough-rider, Wet’n’wild and what not. I select the one called “Erotica” by Contempo, simply because it has the most erotic picture. The bareback of a blonde wearing a leopard skin is what causes me to pick this one over all the others. When I arrive, Yvonne has opened her legs and started to stimulate herself in the car. The bitch is horny and utterly shameless! 

I am going over the speed limit as I look for a cheap motel. There are a couple of them in this small town but the town is not mine and Yvonne is not good with directions. In the age without a GPS, I find myself at the mercy of a woman with the most magnificent pair of tits and a truly horrible memory when it comes to landmarks and directions. What makes this motel hunt particularly hard is that as I drive, she leans over on my crotch to unzip my jeans and then takes my manhood in her hands. With spit on her palms, she attempts to stroke me. 

“Let's see if you can hold it in before we reach the motel. If I make you cum before you find the motel, I go free,” she leans in to whisper in my ear and then her hand begins to work my shaft. 

I let her have her way. I have dated other women but this one is something else. As convenience stores, plazas and restaurants pass by, I continue to look for a motel but it is nowhere to be seen. I see a dirt road leading to a construction site and I turn in. She continues to massage my cock as my mind attempts to focus on the bumpy gravel road to nowhere. 

“Where are you going?” she asks. I hit the breaks and the car comes to a screeching halt. “What the fuck? I just dropped my good luck charm!” she protests as she lets go of my engorged cock and turns on the roof lights to look for her good luck charm. I step out of the car leaving the engine running and the headlights turned on and walk around towards her door. 

When I open her door, she is bent over with her naked tits resting on her knees, still searching for her good luck charm. I open the door and grab her tightly by the arm. Roughly, I pull her out on the road like I am about to do something really mean and nasty. With a sense of aggressive urgency, I drag her to the front of the car and then push her back on the bonnet until she is sitting on it staring at me all amused and bewildered. I stare down at her naked breasts that are heaving with her excited breathing, nipples pointing at me. 

“I am sorry but I can no longer search for the motel. I need to fuck you,” I say and then kiss her. 

“Damn it, Hank. You are so God-damned horny and out-of-control. I fucking love it! Are you sure no one will see us?” she asks while looking around. 

Then she turns to face me and says, “Alright lover boy! You are so on!” she says as she rips my shirt open and buttons go flying. Then she helps me get the shirt off my shoulders and pulls my shirtless body into herself to taste my mouth. Her nipples poke into my chest as her massive tits mash into me, our tongues exploring the insides of our mouths. My cock is still out of my trousers, getting even more engorged. I look down at her heaving tits while she works my belt. Soon my trousers are being pulled down my butt and my underwear clears the throbbing pole in the way. “Whoa … so this is the trouser snake that wants to attack my kitty!” she says and then spits on her palms to take it in her hands. 

It is her witty, slutty humor that is as much a source of arousal as her freely swaying tits. She takes my cock in her hands and strokes it like the totally shameless slut that she is and I love her for it. As I look around to see if the coast is still clear, she has slid down the bonnet of the car down to her knees and is aligning her mouth to my manhood. The bitch has done this to many men before, I can tell. Her confidence with her body, her comfort level with a near stranger and her shameless demeanor announces to me that the bitch is a pro at this. She loves to get men horny about her and then she loves to fuck!

I see my cock disappear into the depths of her mouth. It is warm, velvety and locks perfectly around my shaft while she sucks me. I grab her hair and control the movement of her head and she reaches behind with both her hands to clasp my butt as tightly as she could while deepthroating me. The woman can produce an unusual amount of saliva and when she releases my cock from her mouth, strands of saliva are dripping from it. 

“Enough! I must fuck you now,” I say and then reach into my trousers to take out the condom. 

She takes it from my hand and then rips it open using her teeth. The expertise with which she rolls it on my cock bears testimony that she has done it many times before but at that moment of arousal none of it matters for her swaying tits look amazing. She rises up and then kisses me in the mouth, her hands reaching behind me to explore my back. My face sinks to the nape of her neck as I kiss and lick her and she moans. 

“Fuck my brains out on this car! You earned this you horny pig.” She says as she pulls her jeans down her legs and steps out of them. Then she lays back on the bonnet of my Civic opening her legs. The car door is open and the door lights inside the car, as well as the headlights and the moon above us, allow enough light on her body that I can truly study her tits, revealing themselves much clearer than before. 

I spread her legs and stroke her clit with the tip of my erection. Her breathing gets deeper and deeper and then she yelps as I push my cock inside all the way with a single penetrating thrust. I look down at her. I finally have my Martha! The thought gets me horny and then I begin to fuck her with smooth deep strokes, causing her to moan louder and louder. The force of my thrusts moves her higher and higher on the bonnet and she spreads her hands out to stabilize herself while I pound mercilessly into her depths. 

“Hank ...Hank ...Yes. That is how you fuck me,” she moans and Yvonne knows how to moan. If there is ever a woman who can make a man hard just by moaning then it is this fucking bitch called Yvonne, the queen of erotic obscenities and the mistress of dirty talk.

I look down at my cock going in and out of her pussy and then my eyes wander up to her breasts as they dance back and forth on her chest. Her tight pleasure hole is squeezing so tightly onto my erect cock as if it does not want it to slide out but the hardness of my erection allows me to just pound away.

She reaches up to grab my chest and but loses her base on the bonnet of the car and starts to move up with my thrusts. Immediately, she stops feeling my chest and reaches out sideways to stabilize herself. I grip the outside of her hips to pull her body down towards me while I impale her depths firmly.

“Yess! Fuck me like that, fuck me like that, fuck me like that!” she moans like a pornstar as my cock takes her to the limits of her pleasure.

I look down at my own Martha. Her hands are sprawled out to her sides and her hair is a total mess. Her breasts are swaying up and down with my thrusts, nipples standing out proud and erect and her face has become completely distorted due to an upcoming orgasm. I can read lust written all over her face as she looks up at me like I am some kind of a god. The next instant I see her tensing up for an instant before she surrenders to a wave of orgasmic pleasure. Arousal begins to build up in me as I look down at her throwing her head back in a sexual frenzy, huge tits jutting upwards. I can no longer control my own eruption. The bitch is about to throw me over the edge and I will let her. I drop my head into her breasts and shoot all my load into the condom. Her hands grip my head as she pulls my head down into her boobs while I wrap my arms around her as I cum into the condom again and again. 

When it is over, I am laying on top of her with my face nestled on her neck as I look at her heaving tits and how amazing they look from such close proximity.