a masturbator wrote:
I’m breast obsessed beyond all reason. No breasts are too big for me—I worship mammoth, planet-sized bosoms that could smother a man to death. I dream of Venus of Willendorf proportions, breasts so massive they’d snap a spine. What drives me wild are those indifferent MILF types who barely acknowledge my existence while I frantically jerk my pathetic, pussy-free dickie until I’m sobbing with gratitude just to be in the same room as their magnificent chest.
I can—and do—spend hours scrolling through endless galleries of MILFs and BBWs, the more top-heavy the better, and I’m never happier than when I find an amateur cam model whose tits are so massive they seem like a genetic error, like some gloriously obscene mutation. My ideal scenario is one where a MILF, mid-forties or better, is so indifferent to me sexually that she doesn’t even bother to notice my helpless, twitching masturbation; she just goes about her day, doing laundry or reading the news, her titanic breasts jiggling in a loose tank top while I kneel in the corner and service myself like a Victorian footman. There’s something about humiliation mixed with pure awe that makes my orgasms feel more like worship than simple release. I even love the idea of platonic breast encounters—pillow fights, playful motorboating, getting smothered beneath two soft, indifferent mountains—anything that lets me fully confront the sublime, terrifying power of female cleavage.
For the source of these thoughts, join one of our forums: