The Bucking Bronco: I got 99 problems and the boobs are one
Cassandra's boobs look lovely. If only I had any idea what to do with them…
There are two things I’ve been razzed about during my brief stint as a contributor here at the SCORELAND Blog: not having a girlfriend and jerking off too much.
For starters, while the latter is probably true, to some extent, I’ll wear that label like a badge of honor. After all, it’s not like I jerk off because I can’t get a girl. I jerk off because I can. And the simple fact that it’s the middle of the afternoon and you’re on a porn site probably means that you subscribe to a similar theory.
Whatever. That’s not really all that important right now because today, the topic of conversation isn’t masturbation. Today, I’m coming to you with a confession. Today, I’m asking you folks for a little help.
Here’s the thing. You guys like to poke fun at me for needing a girlfriend, but the truth is, I have one. And the one I have is the one you want. Why? Because she’s cute and she’s funny, and, oh right… because she wears a size 34I bra! Got your attention now, don’t I? That’s not Merilyn Sakova. That’s not Karina Hart. That’s not even Christy Marks. We’re talking Kaytee Carter territory here. We’re talking boobs so big, I don’t even know what to do with them sometimes.
And that’s, sort of, where I need your help.
I know that may sound ridiculous–needing an owner’s manual for boobs does sound pretty silly and all–but here’s the thing: I’m not a boob man. My expertise resides solely in the southern region of a woman’s body. You give me a pair of long legs and a nice ass and I can give you 8,000,000 recipes for warm, delicious pussy pie. But you put a ripe rack in front of me and I can’t even figure out how to turn the oven on.
Now that’s not to say that I don’t like boobs. Nothing could be further from the truth. My girlfriend’s boobs are a thing of beauty. I just don’t have that deep, heartfelt appreciation for them that you folks seem to have around here. I see boobs as merely something to play with. You guys see boobs as something to be placed upon a pedestal and worshiped.
Which is fine because I’m pretty sure they should be. I just don’t understand why, exactly.
So help me out, SCORELAND zealots. Help me understand your boob-based religion. What am I missing? What is it about a woman’s rack that I’m clearly missing but you all see? Help me get inside the mind of a boob lover because until then, I have a feeling I might be wasting something that you all would be very happy to take off my hands.