I have always been a "Breast Man". Perhaps I was not nursed long enough as a baby, but I have been making up for it ever since. Sometimes society seems to look on appreciation of breasts as a perversion, but I think of it as a normal part of human sexuality, and a wonderful part, at that.
Somehow, it is considered rude for a man to look at beautiful breasts, even if the owner of them has them on display, by dress or manner. If someone enjoys a glance and is caught in the act, the normal procedure is for the owner to glare at them, and the miscreant to look away immediately with a contrite demeanor, or pretend he never looked.
I don't believe in that, nor do I follow it. The fact that I don't has lead to some very interesting and pleasurable consequences over the years, I believe, for both me and ladies involved.
Quite often, older women have a real yearning for men to notice that they have a very nice pair of breasts, but have been conditioned by society to build up a defensive shell that precludes anyone from enjoying viewing them. Women from about 28 or so into their late 30's are still hoping to use them as an attraction, but many are too afraid of the men they attract. I'm old enough to think of women younger than that as kids, and they don't interest me much, nor do I, them. In any case, they are far too unpredictable. Here are some personal experiences.
I work for a company that has quarterly conferences for middle management and customer reps. Even though I have heard the same spiel many times, I always go because I get to meet some very interesting people (AKA women) there. Besides it's all expenses paid.
In Atlanta one fall, a particular woman caught my attention at the pre-conference cocktail party. She didn't seem to be hanging with anyone in particular, which was a good sign. Even though she appeared to be a few years older than I am, she was borderline gorgeous, and well dressed without being ostentatious.
Mainly, she appeared to have really great breasts. She was wearing a nice long black dress, probably tailored to present those prizes as well as possible, and almost certainly a custom made bra to hold them perfectly. As large as they appeared, almost a necessity. The dress was cut quite deeply, without being too obvious, but allowing a really great look at the deep valley and curves on each side. Of course, I was staring.
She noticed. She stared back to let me know I had been seen. At that point, I was supposed to look away. I continued to stare. She blinked. I walked casually over to her.
"I hope you don't mind that I have been admiring you, but frankly, I'd find it very hard to take my eyes away, and I'd really rather not," I said, still staring at her bust, with occasional glances at her eyes. "You have beautiful breasts."
She was totally flustered, knowing she could slap me and walk away, but also knowing that her efforts to show herself off had been appreciated. "Uh, thank you," she stammered, "but don't you think you are being a bit rude?"
"I certainly don't," I said, "you show yourself off beautifully, and I think you deserve to know it's appreciated."
"That's very nice of you," she replied, "but I am not used to a man being so obvious."
"Why should I hide what I think, when I would really like you to know that I think you have a very special asset? I hope you realize that I wouldn't look if I didn't think you have something unique."
She was somewhat frustrated that she could not find an argument that would put me off, but I could see she had about given that up. Now or never. "Can I get you a drink?"
"That would be nice," she said, and expected me to go off to the service bar, perhaps even taking the opportunity to slip away if she chose.
Instead, I took her hand and said, "Why don't you come with me, and we'll see what we can find."
She said nothing, but followed me through the crowd, and I led her to the main bar of the hotel, which was pretty dead with all the free booze next door. I chose the darkest booth, farthest from the bar. The idle waiter hustled over, and she ordered something tall and frothy. I ordered a rye and ginger, quietly adding "Very heavy on the ginger," hoping he would get the message that I wanted little or no alcohol.
I could sense she was a little nervous, having suddenly been removed from the comfortable surroundings of 200 or more people, in various stages of inebriation. I think she actually liked the peace and quiet, though.
"I'm Don, from the Detroit office," I said. "I have been to these a few times before, but they are usually worthwhile." It was actually more than a few, and I didn't mean, in a business sense, but she couldn't know that.
She held out her hand and said, "Louise, from Dayton. I just changed companies, so this is my first time."
"Would Lou be ok?" I said.
She thought a second. "Why yes, I like that, my family always called me Lou. With my husband it has always been "Louise" though, so I'm not used to it.
"Thank you, I think Lou has a nice ring, and it seems to fit you." I said, as the waiter brought the drinks and I handed him my card. "Run a tab on that, please."
I noticed she took a long pull on her drink, and I suspected that was the nerves showing through. I drank half my ginger ale, and made a face. "Wow, that's pretty stiff.!"
"Louise or not," I said as she almost drained the glass, "your husband is a lucky man to have a woman with your assets." Of course I was staring at her breasts again. Actually, I had hardly stopped, and she knew it. I waved at the waiter.
She looked down and away, silent for a moment. "My damn husband doesn't even know or care that I have these," she growled. From the time we met he has never really paid attention to them, and hardly ever touches them. For that matter, he doesn't touch me much at all, any more."
I commiserated. "Your husband must be a moron!" I exclaimed. "Or just a real jerk. You stood out in that whole room, and caught my attention. Breasts like yours are made to be appreciated. Anyone who doesn't know that doesn't deserve them."
The waiter came and Lou said to me, "Could I switch to something else next time?"
