Not politically correct, but nicely done: breasts!

A poem…

Round Robin from Me Tart

Round Robin from Me Tart

The Breast Man
by Dana

Now how do you account for that,
Enamoured of two mounds of fat,
Some blood, some glands, some lymph, some skin?
It matters not what shape they’re in.

Whether soft and large or firm and small,
The Breast Man will admire them all.
No two go by he won’t observe
Enjoying each enticing curve.

If in a sweater, nice and tight,
You know he’ll keep them in his sight.
And across his face will spread a smile
When he sees them in profile.

Or beneath a tee-shirt without a bra,
He’ll stand transfixed as if in awe.
His eyes will scan the folds and ripples
Seeking out those hidden nipples.

Should he see some dishabilled
(That’s not quite clothed, not quite revealed)
It will put him in a happy mood;
In ecstasy should he see some nude!

‘Though politically now it’s incorrect
To think of woman as sex object
It’s always been that way, it seems,
And always will. It’s in his genes.

So ladies if you’re well endowed
Just walk right past him thrust out proud.
You’ll make the man who’s breast fixated
So very, very tit-elated.


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