Bigtitsbitch1000x
Virgin
- Joined
- Jan 4, 2024
- Posts
- 852
Some thoughts on boobies from a trans perspective
* * *
I strip before a trick.
We're nude. His cock is hard.
My boobs rise from my body like towers crowned with lights, my sugar rubies. My boobies are big and dense. They point forward, like the headlights on a truck at night, showing the way. A beautiful trans hooker with boy boobs praises mine, describing them as indicating the path that will lead her and other new hos to fulfillment.
The experience of transwomen with natural+hormonal breasts offers considerable insights about the nature of this amazing phenomenon. I have learned something cis women don't: my boobs before totalization and after, with no industrial products.
My breasts are not implants, though I may get implants. When I was living as a male they were the core of my identity. I derived sexual pleasure from them through the end of my adolescence, wearing bras in a clandestine manner. My nipples were my primary source of sexual sensation.
When the estradiol tsunami hit the bitch, i.e. when my sensibility had changed completely, and I knew I was a female born without a uterus, I first felt it in my boobies. They were bigger, but then I understood that they are entirely an erogenous zone.
Previously I concentrated on playing with my nipples and asked my lovers to suck them. But suddenly they were alive all over. I call this "feeling tits from the inside." I asked my lovers to kiss all over them. With my boobies as total stimulation areas, I asked my lovers to cradle them like a bra, and to thumb my nipples.
And thus I attained a long-sought integration of my mind and my body. The warmth of my boobies spread through my body. Everything was now different. When I saw men I liked, my cumdump seemed to open like a Venus fly trap. I always enjoyed having my booty grabbed but now the mere touch of a finger on it made me weak.
I imagined myself as an exotic bush with three men intertwined with me, four legs around my booty, generating light, and four arms arrayed similarly to cover the twin power plants on my chest, supplying energy.
I was a tree with my boobs as the leaves atop a mighty trunk.
I was a fountain with a permanent flow of water pouring from the summit of my body.
I saw myself as cosmic. A galactic ho on a wide boulevard called Milky Way.
* * *
I wake in bed. A trick has gone.
My boobs point up under a thin shèet, my first sight of the day, reminding me of my femininity.
They're in the way of my upper body's operation.
My best four bras wait: one favorite, a sparkly blue max pushup, a lovely black bra with lush lining, a white bra that also covers, and a shocking pink item.
I sit up in bed, selecting my starry-sky support, closing the catches tight, keeping my girls close to one another, offered to the trick as if on a shelf, like a tray with two peaches, like a pair of hillocks with a creek between them where the trick's cock can plunge in to tittyfuck me. I recall the whorehouse madam who welcomed me on my first working day there, with my top pulled up, my bra unfastened, and the madam inspecting them.
"You're going to love getting tittyfucked and walking around with Never No Panties on. You have a natural body for whoring," she affirms.
My boobies sing to me all morning, asking me to get them back in a man's hands as quickly as possible.
Before I go out I reward my grownup girls by painting my nipples with stripper tint. It's time to get to work. At least 10 men will enjoy me today. I'll take a break outside, topless in the heat. If I'm lucky a cis chick passing by will stop and spend a moment caressing them.
My boobies serve me well. My bright double suns, big and perky.
They're here for you, world. Touch them and we go together deep in the galaxy. They're my starship.
* * *
Early on I learned that while jerking off my cock was messy and banal, like a dull work assignment in an office job, masturbating my nipples took me straight into another universe, dizzy and thrilled, high on the highest possible drug.
Later my boobs changed my posture and gait. I wore stilettos daily, pushing them out. I had to learn how to operate my new body.
I'm home now.
* * *
I strip before a trick.
We're nude. His cock is hard.
My boobs rise from my body like towers crowned with lights, my sugar rubies. My boobies are big and dense. They point forward, like the headlights on a truck at night, showing the way. A beautiful trans hooker with boy boobs praises mine, describing them as indicating the path that will lead her and other new hos to fulfillment.
The experience of transwomen with natural+hormonal breasts offers considerable insights about the nature of this amazing phenomenon. I have learned something cis women don't: my boobs before totalization and after, with no industrial products.
My breasts are not implants, though I may get implants. When I was living as a male they were the core of my identity. I derived sexual pleasure from them through the end of my adolescence, wearing bras in a clandestine manner. My nipples were my primary source of sexual sensation.
When the estradiol tsunami hit the bitch, i.e. when my sensibility had changed completely, and I knew I was a female born without a uterus, I first felt it in my boobies. They were bigger, but then I understood that they are entirely an erogenous zone.
Previously I concentrated on playing with my nipples and asked my lovers to suck them. But suddenly they were alive all over. I call this "feeling tits from the inside." I asked my lovers to kiss all over them. With my boobies as total stimulation areas, I asked my lovers to cradle them like a bra, and to thumb my nipples.
And thus I attained a long-sought integration of my mind and my body. The warmth of my boobies spread through my body. Everything was now different. When I saw men I liked, my cumdump seemed to open like a Venus fly trap. I always enjoyed having my booty grabbed but now the mere touch of a finger on it made me weak.
I imagined myself as an exotic bush with three men intertwined with me, four legs around my booty, generating light, and four arms arrayed similarly to cover the twin power plants on my chest, supplying energy.
I was a tree with my boobs as the leaves atop a mighty trunk.
I was a fountain with a permanent flow of water pouring from the summit of my body.
I saw myself as cosmic. A galactic ho on a wide boulevard called Milky Way.
* * *
I wake in bed. A trick has gone.
My boobs point up under a thin shèet, my first sight of the day, reminding me of my femininity.
They're in the way of my upper body's operation.
My best four bras wait: one favorite, a sparkly blue max pushup, a lovely black bra with lush lining, a white bra that also covers, and a shocking pink item.
I sit up in bed, selecting my starry-sky support, closing the catches tight, keeping my girls close to one another, offered to the trick as if on a shelf, like a tray with two peaches, like a pair of hillocks with a creek between them where the trick's cock can plunge in to tittyfuck me. I recall the whorehouse madam who welcomed me on my first working day there, with my top pulled up, my bra unfastened, and the madam inspecting them.
"You're going to love getting tittyfucked and walking around with Never No Panties on. You have a natural body for whoring," she affirms.
My boobies sing to me all morning, asking me to get them back in a man's hands as quickly as possible.
Before I go out I reward my grownup girls by painting my nipples with stripper tint. It's time to get to work. At least 10 men will enjoy me today. I'll take a break outside, topless in the heat. If I'm lucky a cis chick passing by will stop and spend a moment caressing them.
My boobies serve me well. My bright double suns, big and perky.
They're here for you, world. Touch them and we go together deep in the galaxy. They're my starship.
* * *
Early on I learned that while jerking off my cock was messy and banal, like a dull work assignment in an office job, masturbating my nipples took me straight into another universe, dizzy and thrilled, high on the highest possible drug.
Later my boobs changed my posture and gait. I wore stilettos daily, pushing them out. I had to learn how to operate my new body.
I'm home now.
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