Right now, I'm a 22 year old girl with a 38D-cup chest. It's official: I'm a college gal with big boobs. I recently had a late-night chat with a friend who is pretty flat chested, and I walked away with a new appreciation for my breasts-- and I realized the impact they have had on my life. She made me realize that being busty had encouraged my sexual side to come out at times when for her as a petite girl she had more of an option to think things out.
It all started when my breasts started to appear early, a good six months before anyone else in my class of 200 even could think about boobs. I'll admit it was a weird experience for me. I didn't have any friends in a similar situation, I didn't have an older sibling, and I wasn't close with Mom like I am now. So I decided to hide my ever-growing chest. Maybe, I hoped, I wouldn't have big boobs like she did. I was able to dance around the issue by wearing sweaters and other baggy clothes, but Mom finally caught on and by the spring I was in my first training bra. I felt so incredibly embarrassed and for a little while I stupidly blamed my Mom somehow. By the end of the year the word was out in school: I was the first girl in the grade with boobs. It definitely effected me because I stuck out like a sore thumb—never a good thing in middle school. The other, more popular girls resented it, and the boys didn't know how to react to it. I started to keep more and more to myself as my chest grew, and by the end of middle school I was one frustrated and fed up girl.
That all would change in high school and I knew it. I walked in the first day as a freshman girl wearing a 36D cup bra and a tight white t-shirt. That definitely stuck out, but I quickly learned it made me stick out differently than in middle school. My chest was a good thing now. It got me attention and it made me finally feel appreciative about my breasts. Kids in the older grades noticed me and I quickly fell into an older crowd. I just loved the attention from the juniors and seniors, but with it came the pressures of the older high school kids, namely drinking and sexual stuff. I had personally ruled out having sex just to be popular, but I figured less than that was just having fun.
As the other girls in my grade were going out on first dates, I was in the basement of a party with a drunken senior's hand on my breast. As other girls were enjoying Christmas break by having their first kiss, I was nervously being pressured into jerking a guy off—I just had to, I was told, because my tits had turned him on so much and he needed a release. As other girls were being felt up for the first time, I was pressured more and more often into giving blow jobs to a particular guy I liked. I had told him I wouldn't swallow (it really scared me then, but looking back I'm not sure why). When he complained a lot and implied I was getting to be no fun, I ended up telling him that I still wouldn't swallow, but he could cum on my naked breasts. He eagerly accepted and I felt happy that once again my big boobs had saved the day.
What was weird about all of that was figuring out what I meant to people. I knew I really enjoyed the power and pleasure of being sexual. Each time I was there on my sore knees, my eyes closed tightly, reaching for a tissue to wipe some guy's cum off my cheek, neck, and breasts, I felt that I was the real winner there. I was getting attention and appreciation for being the person that I was, I thought. But I also knew deep down that in one way nothing had changed. I was once the middle school girl with "the big boobies." Now I was the high school girl with "the big tits and nice mouth." Girls my age still resented me, and guys my age and older still couldn't figure me out, even if they did enjoy using me. I was getting tired of being the young and easy chick and decided that guys couldn't get with me so easily. Suddenly I was spending a lot more time alone again. For the rest of high school, and since then, I won't usually put out unless I'm in a relationship, and I certainly feel better about myself.
But still I know when a guy says he loves me, even if he means it, my breasts have helped him come my way. Not that I don't love sex, because I'm still very sexually minded! I guess I'm just not sure if my big breasts brought me increased sexuality, or if my already high sexuality has fit well with my big breasts. I really really love being sexual and even though my breasts have given me a different road to take. Each and every time I feel a hand on one of my breasts I feel a rush of gratitude and shame at the same time. I love the feeling but I wonder if I'm still that teenager appreciating being humiliated by an older guy as he cums all over me.
I've known since puberty hit that having a big chest makes me different, and if I have the proper outlook, they can make me special.
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