Breasts

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It may have been the stars, or the sound of the sea that made that night special, but I don?t think so. I remember the Milky way with it?s millions of glittering dots strewn across the black night and every minute or two there?d be the dazzling streak of a shooting star, but all that was merely a backdrop for what happened. I was still in my late teens; we?d never been on holiday together before, never been so close for so long, so it was inevitable I guess ? everyone does it but there has to be a first time.We needed the darkness, needed to believe no one could see, though they must have guessed.For us, for me anyway, it was a big thing, a thing no one tells you how to do. You can read about sex in books, with all the diagrams you could want. I?d had those insane lessons from our fusty, ancient, chemistry teacher. Why would a guy who rode to school on a pushbike with a handlebar basket and wore his pants over his shirt so the waist band showed, have any idea about sex? He was embarrassing şişli escort (https://sislioto.com/) and embarrassed, as were all the boys in our class in an all boys school.The hell with the mechanics, no one told us how to touch a breast for the first time. No one even mentioned the magic of naked skin.Maybe it?s better in the dark. In the blackest night with no more than a sliver of moon reflected on the flat calm sea, with adrenaline, and testosterone flooding my veins, it was all about touch.I lay behind her on the firm sand, kissing her shoulders and neck, arms around her, hands on her belly and then, and then, and then, hugging close, tentatively, and so very gently, my hands rising under her breasts, the touch sending shivers through my fingers, doing who knows what to my breathing, as I waited in suspense in case my hands were slapped away. Waiting, hardly breathing, touching as light as a feather against skin so soft it was hard to believe.Why are breasts so soft? So soft I marvelled at the feeling, mecidiyeköy escort (https://sislioto.com/) like eating cream with my fingers. I caressed them, daring to be a little firmer so that I could feel their weight and still there was no cry of protest. She turned. In the dark I could feel her breath as she kissed me and those silken orbs touched my naked chest, pressed down, arousing sensations I?d never known. The shooting stars kept going?celestial fireworks just for us.Lying on my back her lips were on mine and then off again as she rose inches above me and her nipples, firm but somehow tender and erect at the same time; tempted my flesh in ways I?d never know.Breasts are a marvel. They set hormones loose, pulses racing, and yet they can do so much more. There are times when they feel like the best place of rest in the world, and yet they can unleash raging passions too. Of course I got used to them over the years, though they never lost their magic. Sometimes they needed help, sexy bras and corsets have their place, but another magic came with the babies.A sunny afternoon, no shooting stars this time, after hours of tension there was a screaming kid; messy fluids, hospital smells, bright lights, every ounce of romance filtered away by the air conditioning; and among all that another moment of magic.They brought the baby to her, let her hold him and put him to that same breast I?d fondled in the night those years ago.I remember standing near the door, not quite stopping anyone from coming in, not exactly guarding the entrance but making the space a little more private. She sat up in bed, holding the baby to her breast, letting him suck and instead of romance and the groping uncertainty of sex there was serenity. A tranquil deep joy, the thought of which still takes me to an enchanted place.Seeing that, being part of it, brought a moment of peace as magical as any under the stars or blankets. More rewarding in many ways and certainly as memorable and as much imbued with love.* If ever I doubted that breasts had a unique magic I knew it forever then.Motherhood and breast feeding is wonderful but it also changes everything.