Folded Arms

Human breasts are a wonderful thing.  That really needs to be clarified…. a woman’s breasts are a wonderful thing.  Men’s not so much. I work in a company of mostly women, so am regaled by the sight of women’s breasts on a daily basis.  Some are more proud of them than others, but they are plentiful, come in all shapes and sizes, and fascinate me.

I especially enjoy talking to a beautiful women who is squared off, face to face, looking very serious, and focusing on her important topic, who, in mid sentence crosses her arms in front of her chest.  At that point, she inevitably gives a little clench, squeezing her arms together.  Almost magically, both of her breasts rise up ever so slightly, bulging at the top of her bra which I am acutely aware is hiding right below her blouse.  The cleavage becomes pronounced, straining to be free. A beautiful sight.

At that very moment, try as I might, I nearly always find my eyes involuntarily dart downward towards her chest.  Admittedly, it isn’t a stealthy glance, but rather an autonomic reaction like a sneeze after pepper that I can’t control.  Breasts bulge upward – eyes dart downward – no control possible on my end.

It happened again two days ago.  The woman is a petite red head, full of piss and vinegar, with nice well balanced breasts.  We were deep in conversation, she was talking with her hands to make a point.  I saw it coming, but before I could avert my gaze, she crossed her arms.  Like Pavlov’s dog, my eyes went down, knowing there would be the reward of two creamy bulging breasts trying to escape her silky brown semi-sheer blouse.  I wasn’t disappointed.  They rose magnificently and for an instant, I reveled in their freckled beauty.

I’m sure the moment hadn’t lasted long, but by the time I looked up, her eyes were locked on mine.  They were somewhat bemused, somewhat irritated.  She did not, however, uncross her arms or verbally bust me. I am sure my face betrayed how sheepish I felt. Despite that, we both carried the conversation to it’s conclusion.  But, for the life of me, I don’t recall what we talked about, only those nubile plump breast tops, yearning to be free.

Was it worth it? Damn straight.  Does she treat me weird? Not really.  In fact I think she may have a good idea what she’s doing when she’s doing it.  Perhaps it even amuses her that she has the power to make my eyes drop uncontrollably like a dog’s leg twitches when you rub it’s side.  And whether that is true or not, I’m sticking to it.  That way when it happens again, I won’t feel quite so bad for getting busted – so to speak. Because breasts are a wonderful thing….women’s breasts that is….  I absolutely love them all.