Magical Buttons

Aren't nipples super-duper? First of all, they're round and quite naturally hold onto the breast as a root to a tree; all in one. Not like some other body parts that just kinda hang there - but of course that's the male anatomy, and I've no more to say on that subject. Nipples are multi-purpose: they get bigger when it's puberty-time, they feel good when grabbed, so to speak, and they feed many a lucky infant, instantly transforming from an organ of sexual pleasure to a cream soda dispenser.

Nipples are handy if you have kids - they tranform into little baby-feeders, sprinkling milk like a big pinkish-brownish fountain. It kinda hurts, but it's a relief, too. Ball & Chain useta call me The Dairy Queen. Then later he expected to satisfy his curiosity. Ha! That was one time - or two- in my life when the nipples were off-limits to all sexual interations. They were feeding my baby, for crissake. Even having anyone else near them made me anxious. No blurring of the territory.

One night I had no choice. My breasts were engorged, the baby was fast asleep and wouldn't drink, and nothing was working. I woke up the B&C and ordered him to drink. He was a little groggy, but then he took the order. I was complaining "ouch - shit," "jesus - goddamn" "ouch," and he made little noises, like
"Mmm, this is good. It's kinda warm. It's a little sweet." Finally, when my breasts were back down to a reasonable size, I told him that was enough. He wasn't listening well. "Enough! Enough, already, it's over." He fell back into a contented slumber. I wondered if his lactose intolerance would kick in.

My dispensers always went together. The momma books said that after awhile tit left, Lola, would know that tit right, Rola, was the feeder of the moment. But no. Baby drank from Rola, and Lola spouted like a fountain in France. It wasn't so bad unless I ran outta breast pads, and a young girl came to the door to deliver some special post-natal equipment, and my shirt was soaked because I was exhausted looking after a 4-year-old and an infant, and I didn't give a shit about changing. This girl was maybe twenty, and I am quite sure she went directly from my doorstep to the gynecologist to have her tubes tied with whatever instrument they had handy.

Some of us need the nipple for good sex. Research shows that if you make your tits bigger, just for the helluvit, you may lose sensation in your nipples, among other unpleasantries. Yikes! Now some of us have no choice and this is not about that. This is about why risk it if your tits are perfectly fine, as is? I mean, without the nipple sensation, I might have been the first Jewish nun. My nipples are so sensitive that without them I would be lost in some hinterland of sexual ignorance. No nipple, no high point; no big bang, final release, home run. There would definitely be less interest in having sex with individuals over whom I believed myself to be in love, when really I just needed a little nipple manipulation.

When given the luxury of a healthy small breast that will be your happy companion in sexual endeavors, or a bigger breast that may be as useless as an elbow, why choose elbow? Truly, this is insanity - worse than denying the need for foreplay, even. Willingly removing that sensation is akin to refusing food when it's right in front of you. Aha! It's a sex diet. It's a fucking disorder, as opposed to an eating disorder. And isn't it all the more demented when there are women who truly have to consider this option? Don't give yourself a side effect when you don't have the goddamn disease! My buttons will remain as is, small and potent, lest fate deals me the proverbial lousy hand. Get those fake balloons outta my view - I'm keeping my tits available for all magical manipulations.