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This is a question Breasts

Your stories on The Devil's Pillows, please.

Suggested by PsychoChomp

(, Thu 6 May 2010, 13:21)
Pages: Latest, 13, 12, 11, 10, 9, ... 1

This question is now closed.

I had a girlfriend
she had tits
(, Thu 13 May 2010, 11:51, 5 replies)
In all fairness
Even though she may be an evil bitch-queen of the harpies, my (can't-be-soon-enough!) ex-wife had (and probably still has) a cracking pair of norks. Probably the only good things about her, really! Thankfully, my current lady has loads of good things about her, including a nice pair! :o)
(, Thu 13 May 2010, 10:39, Reply)
I saw LOADS of Tits yesterday
whilst driving on the motorway. Mainly people not bothering to indicate when changing lanes and oblivious to any cars in the lane they were moving into, but then there were the extra 'special' people who seem to have the belief that because they were indicating, they could pull out straight away...even if it meant that the car now behind them i.e. me, would be about 3ft off their bumper.

and no, they weren't BMW drivers

Thanks for the vent and sorry, but it's got to be near the end of this QOTW, hasn't it?

Just to make it more relevant, my very first 'proper' girlfriend many, many years ago was won over by my suave and sophisticated chat up line of "Wow, haven't you got big tits!"
(, Thu 13 May 2010, 10:24, 3 replies)
I was only doing what I was told...
Honda Accord jokes aside, I've been doing karate since I was 8. My instructor through most of that time was (Grand) Master Loke.

In his classes you did what you were told. Old school discipline was at the core of his classes. The respect for him led to almost fanatical dedication. If your foot came off in training, you'd carry on, limping and without a whimper.

One lesson I was paired up with a rather buxom young lady to practice attack/counter attack (one-step, for those that know). You block a punch from your attacker and counter, staying in that position until you're all told to stand back and repeat.

We were practicing middle punch, which is aimed at your opponents solar plexus (essentially between these lovely breasts). I perform my punch, leaving my hand about 6" away from her instead of the customary 1", out of decency. What does Master Loke do? As he comes round inspecting our technique he grabs my hand, informs me that "You're supposed to be an inch from the solar plexus" and thrusts my fist between her tits.

I had to stand there, silently, both of us looking rather uncomfortable and me trying to mentally project a "I'm really sorry, be he put it there" thought.
(, Thu 13 May 2010, 9:20, 12 replies)
I have the luxury of being divorced.

The current receptacle of my baby batter isn't. However, before she left her hubby she made him pay for her to have them enhanced.

I love em - cheers mate. Hope you can still pay the loan off.
(, Thu 13 May 2010, 8:29, 6 replies)
ikea. They really put a lot of thought into their design!
having been dragged to ikea for the fuck-knows-how-manyith-time, i did the usual and forced myself out of the swedish induced consumer coma feelng you get when walking around their rabbit warren by indulging in one of their ludicrously cheap hotdogs. Given the hot weather i even reated myself to a coke. Now, the hotdog scarfing area was adjacent to the exit. The adjoining partition was a huge sheet of glass. Now, standing where i was i was looking directly into a huge industrial bin of ikea catalogues waiting on the eage hands of the ikea faithful to snatch them to their ample bosoms.

VERY ample bosoms as it turned out. I know this because my vantage point allowed me ”access all areas”. Every lady who leaned over gave me her very own private show. The only problem was that the glass partition made it feel like a seedy peep show. However, even a birthday party planner catering exclusively to rich children has never seen this many "fun bags".

Whatever regurgitated spunk morsel of a fashion editor led the ladies to believe that bra-less boho chic was the way to go that summer, i offer you my sincerest thanks.
(, Thu 13 May 2010, 0:01, 3 replies)
White swimming costumes...
I went swimming once with a friend and his sister (and her friend). His sister was wearing a one piece swimming costume (back in the early 90's) that was predominantly white over the breasts and "down there". Albeit from a red diagonal stripe over the left breast and blue stripe over the mid section. Didn't leave much to the imagination as a young teenager as it went pretty see through and once again got me hooked on the ladies form.

Nothing hotter than a woman wearing supposedly innocent non-sexy clothes leaving the mind to imagine the rest...
(, Wed 12 May 2010, 23:12, Reply)
I can remember
the first breasts I saw...

Years ago when I was a mere child, my sisters friend and his sister were over at our house. I was playing on the swing, she leaned over the trellis at the bottom of the garden in a loose baggy t-shirt with no bra. I saw all...
I was happy, things stirred and I didn't know what it meant back then but I swear it got me addicted...
Slim blonde, no bra, perfect pert large breasts... If only I could see them again now...
(, Wed 12 May 2010, 23:05, 2 replies)
Jizz Hands
I was on holiday in France a number of years ago, sharing a small rental property with some girl friends. We smoked weed, lazed by the pool and drank wine in the sun all day. It was rather splendid.

I was tanning my front, with my bikini top off. And I was really very stoned. It was getting to the middle of the day, I *should have* gone inside, but there was a great song on the stereo and I was realy very, very, stoned. I could, however, sense that my nipples more sensitive to the scorching rays and were in danger of getting burnt. I cupped my hands over my nipples to protect them until the end of the song... and then I fell asleep.

The lobster red sunburn was exactly what I deserved for displaying such a reckless, teenage disregard for sun safety. The BRIGHT WHITE HANDPRINTS which extended, fingers splayed, up over my cleavage were something truly special though. They took nearly a year to totally disappear and could only be concealed by tops with a matronly neckline.

My girlfriends named them The Jizz Hands.
(, Wed 12 May 2010, 22:39, 1 reply)
Several years ago I was given a divine gift. Like some people become suddenly endowed with mystical foresight or spiritual enlightenment without any practise or intention, I became a honker. Squeeze a breast and a sound EXACTLY like a cheap, tinny-sounding car horn parps straight out of my mouth.

In the Egg, a seedy after-party venue in London, I decided to use it to break the ice with a group of stangers. In the garden, I spotted a group of unknown revellers. I wobbled over and very, very slowly... PARP! PARP! I squeezed the bosom of a man. He looked up with bewildered incomprehension, but a look soon dawned across his face; a realisation!


His friends understood too. A cacophony of honks ensued.

Walking to the tube station afterwards I was greeted with soft honking behind me, fading into the distance.
(, Wed 12 May 2010, 22:22, Reply)

My missus has the best tits ever! I absolutely love them! It's not that they're some perfect example that all other breasts should henceforth be modeled upon; it's that they're attached to her.
(, Wed 12 May 2010, 22:22, 5 replies)
Anatomy fail.
I was waiting in the doctors' surgery with Mr Snakes, because we were both getting vaccinations prior to our holiday. Opposite our seats, on a little table, was a large pair of old fashioned weighing scales: the kind shaped like a tin bath on a little cradle thing. You used to see them in greengrocers' shops. Slapped on the metal dish was a faded, but legible, sticker from a cancer charity which advocated regular breast screening.

Mr Snakes: How does weighing your tits tell you if you have cancer or not? I thought you had to ... prod them... or something. And anyway, you couldn't possibly weigh them accurately: they're attatched! The weight would be supported by your torso. That's just stupid!

Me: Those scales are for weighing your baby.
(, Wed 12 May 2010, 22:20, Reply)
I saw one once
in north-western France. It had a population of 303,484.
(, Wed 12 May 2010, 21:51, 1 reply)
3 stand out. One was the Youth worker whose right nipple escaped while being pinned down during a water fight but I my appreciation hadn't started then so I didn't pay too much attention.
On third year school camp the mid twenties PE teacher (girls) in an electric blue bikini which she filled well on the beach. I think a few holes were drilled in the sand especially when she put sun cream on and undid the top while tanning her back.
A level geography teacher was in her forties but not bad. She would bend at the waist to read things on her desk allowing an excellent view down her cleavage. She would then ask a question but would only raise her head. I blushed extremely easily back then but I supppose I should be grateful it meant the blood wasn't filling up elsewhere.
(, Wed 12 May 2010, 21:32, Reply)

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