Boobs

Gentlemen, I love boobs!

I like seeing them. I like feeling them. I like smelling them. I like tasting them.

I like fondling them, I like massaging them, I like sucking them. D Cups. C Cups. B Cups. A Cups. Delicious Flat Chests. I like them soft, I like them firm. I love every kind of boob that exists on this earth.

I like seeing their beauty even through thick clothes. When I am able to see a cleavage, my heart dances.

I like exploring their softness and elasticity. When I fondled breasts, my heart leapt.

I like it when girls are proud of their breasts. I like it when girls are ashamed of their breasts. I remember teaching a girl that her breasts are truly beautiful.

Seeing the giant roundness of two perfectly equal breasts is unendurably exciting. Seeing the nipples harden from a cold breeze in the morning is spectacular.

When a girl presented her breasts to me and asked if I like them, I was at my height.

It is a sad thing when the clothes are too thick and you are unable to see or feel breasts.

I like it when wet t-shirts only increase the contour of breasts.

I like being squashed between a pair of D-Cups until my need for air is at the limit. Being unable to touch breasts because the relationship has not achieved that level yet is the ultimate disgrace. Gentlemen... I desire all the breasts in the world.

Gentlemen, my companions, fellow Tropers... What do you desire? Do you desire boobs as well? Do you yearn for breasts that are lubed with oil?

Do you desire sex that fullfills every sense the human possesses with the boobs of your loved one?

...

Very well... Then we shall have boobs.