Oh fine. NSFW. There. I hope you're happy now.

Right around this time of year, my thoughts inevitably turn to improper methods of tit fucking.
Don't you find that to be the case?
You pathetic flat-chested persons, just go stand by the walls and whisper spitefully amongst yourselves 'K?

If a person is gifted mammarially there comes a time when the subject of tit fucking is just going to become an issue...usually right around the same time that a male someone is getting a blow job. God only knows what possesses some men at a time like this, but it's happened more than once that I've had someone suddenly dive for my cleavage like RoseAnne Barr heading out after a runaway hot dog cart. One minute you're wondering if you have a split of 7-up near to hand and the next thing the guy's bouncing his ass down your torso. Which can kick up quite a breeze, fellas. It ain't rose scented either.

Now if they're on the young and overeager side they won't be thinking about much more than 'must....blow....load' so more than likely Buckwheat won't give you much of a chance to comment while he gets himself situated. In my experience this maneuver is usually performed with the ninjalike grace of a drowning Labrador Retriever...their elbows in your hair, their knees pinching your rib-fat, their swollen meat thumping it's way down your sternum gadoinga gadoinga gadoinga, like like a bald quadraplegic chasing a contact lens...

Ay Caramba! IS SO SEXY!

While you frame just how to say 'Would you get the fuck off my hair you retard' in a loving way they grab a tit in each fist and splat them together like a pair of unwanted twins.
THEN they start ramming away at the cleft between them.

Guys, stop and think a second. It takes every single one of you at least three years from your first piece of ass until you finally figure out where the right hole is anyway, and that's the one that produces it's own lubrication. If you've learned anything at all in that time it should have been that you cannot force your way through. 'Steel rod' is just an expression.
Anyway it's more like a big purpley-pink asparagus. But a friendly one.

It might help to think of it as making a tasty sandwich.
RIGHT: Bread, Meat, Bread.
WRONG: Bread, Bread, MeatMeatMeatMeatMeatMeatMeat.

Simple biology:

BOOBS ARE ATTACHED TO A SURFACE.
A HUMAN SURFACE.
A human surface that by this point is experiencing a not insubstantial amount of pain due to being partially scalped while having each breast forced together into one central megaboob while you launch yourself at it dick first like a monkey humping a football. Let me add that at this point you do not look particularly alluring. The view from below consists of a scarlet sweaty person straining like they're trying to pass a piano.

Nobody is having fun here. You will not be remembered fondly. And as a woman, when you add all that to the *ahem* projected outcome (you see what i did there?? oh, my face is laugh! but yeah...all that and a pearl necklace too! yay!) the inevitable conclusion one comes to is "You, sir, will not be added to my speed dial"

1. LUBE. IT'S A GOOD THING.

This is regular skin. It's absorbent. Sweat does not last. Spit does not last. Old spoo transferred from elsewhere does not last. Which practice ranks right up there on the erotic scale with picking your nose and eating it, btw. Not even plain water lasts. Booze burns, pop gets sticky. Face the goddamn facts... You need some slippy slidey stuff.

2. BOOBS ARE MADE OF HUMAN.

If you ever want to play with them again, treat them nice.


3. YOU ARE BEING OBSERVED

The frantic crap does not play. Nothing-and I mean nothing at all-makes you look more lame than that frantic scrabbly boner chihuahua bullshit. Get a goddamn grip...or a grip's all you'll be getting in the near future.

Ask.
Be considerate.
Act normal.

Remember: those tits are awfully close to those teeth, senor.