Victoria's Secret Revealed

Okay:

Clothing can be deceptive. To the casual observer, I probably look slim and relatively firm.

But the reality is I'm just a big wad of cookie dough.

There's nothing firm on this body of mine anymore. Everything is soft.

Except for where and when it counts, of course.

I'm self-conscious about it, but not really. I usually find some way to warn a woman ahead of time if I think we may have sex. I may talk a little bit about wanting to lose weight and start working out again. I may even play with my belly fat.

Most of them giggle and tell me I haven't seen anything yet.

Some of them giggle uncomfortably but seem disgusted.

Others, like my sister, will turn up their noses and state flatly, "That's disgusting."

But what I don't do is attempt to perpetrate as though I got the big sexy going on under my shirt so I can have to deal with the anxiety of knowing how disappointed they'll be when I disrobe.

Women, however, don't appear to have the same concerns or offer the same courtesies.

I can't tell you how many times I've been disappointed at seeing how a woman really looks naked.

Stomachs I can deal with.

Stretch marks or whatever.

Guts.

Rolls.

Seen it all.

Not a big deal.

What does infuriate me, however, is the disappointing titty.

I guess it's because it's fairly difficult to ascertain the consistency of the tit through clothing. Bellies are easy to spot, even when great measures are being taken to hide them. But they've got a whole industry for creating deception around the tit.

I guess it's because I'm such a tit man.

I love ass, don't get me wrong.

But there is something about a pair of big titties that makes my mouth water.

And before you ask, yes, I was breast-fed.

So, it always sucks to think you've found someone with a nice rack, only to take her home and realize that she's got the pancake action going on.

Of course, I know that after a woman gives birth, if she has a large chest, those tits are going to go through all kinds of crazy changes. And I can respect and appreciate that. My problem lies in the deception that is created.

I once got a woman with DDDs back to my apartment. I was so excited. Like Christmas morning. Couldn't wait. I could barely hold a conversation with this woman. She had them all served up, high, about to bust through the top of her blouse.

It came time to do the deed. I helped her take of her shirt and unhook that harness she had on. And by now, you've already guessed what happened.

Those big mamma jammas came tumbling down to her waist.

I couldn't see her navel anymore.

Her nipples pointed to the floor like they were giving me directions to her feet.

I reached out to touch them. They were deflated, lifeless beach balls. There was no fun to be had there.


Again, ladies. I know life happens and there's no way to predict or necessarily prevent (not all the time at least) how time will ravage your body. I'm just saying that a warning would be nice.


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Thanks for reading.


GOBAMA!


Innocent Question: If a man stuffed his pants with a sock or some other phallic to appear larger, and when he took his pants off you were disappointed and shocked at how small his penis was, what would you do?