Ode to Breasts

Some call them breasts, jugs, knockers or titties
Um even without a bra they love to hang down pretty  
My utters require mouth to mouth  
So, like a pair of suction cups  
Please feel free to come slurp them up  
Just like you applying spit to a pulsating clit  
I know that saliva of yours will stain my breasts through every lick  
 
Some like to slap breasts or bite them with the utmost ferocity  
But me I rather squeeze mines and massage them so soft and slowly
Sometimes I love to hug them when I'm cold  
Of course with a wintry mix comes my utters becoming tender and subduing to a hard erection  
One that causes me to explore the idea of self pleasuring them with my fingers  
Pinching them so tight that a sharp pain irks my sensitivity  
Comparing it to that of a spike from a bee's stingers  
Ohhh the explicit visions of having a man cater to my breasts  
All the while I equally tend to the supping of his utters  
Utters that like a hand waiting for a shake are  reaching long and hard for me  
It's just something about two lovers appetites for each other being fulfilled that turns me on, like a switch  
The thought of me moaning and groaning, hitting high notes as you are penetrating your manhood between my breasts, like a push pop  
That never causes me to lose my pitch  
 
I just love having a natural body and appreciating all of it's glory  
Looking in the mirror at even my stretch marks they tell a heartfelt story  
A story of a woman coming to terms of how her body is made and not being lured into the illusion of surgery  
I can look at myself naked and say that I love every inch and mile it took me to even love my body  
This was ode to my breasts and how they are truly two twins gifted placed upon my chest to hold and fondle  
So part your lips and open your mouth wide  
Make a wish and blow on these utters, like a candle