My lovely wife bought me as a gift, The Big Book of Breasts. Written with love by Dian Hanson, this book is a fascinating sample of the loveliest natural breasts of the 50’s through 70’s. Packed with tits, happy girls and wonderful interviews, this book was a joy to read through. It’s an arousing tribute to beautiful curves and the women who became our sex goddesses.
What? You want numbers? Fine. The book weighs roughly 8 pounds. There are 398 pages filled with most black and white photos. It’s 11.8 inches square, and includes nine interviews with busty superstars. A majority of the photos are full page and much larger than my puny scanner can capture. This book is so much more than a handfull.
What numbers can not begin to convey is just how beautiful the pictures are. Dian Hanson worked as a pornographic magazine editor since 1976 and obviously accumulated the cream of the crop in erotica. Every page was meant to be enjoyed. Every girl possessed a sexuality, playfulness or just plain beauty that is timeless.
I also greatly enjoyed the interviews. It starts with Tempest Storm and Candy Barr who seemed to almost suffer for their beauty. As the sexual revolution kicked in and women became more empowered, the personal stories become much brighter. There is still heartbreak, but you can see society change and treat their women better. Much is said about how you can judge a society by how it treats it weakest, but this book unintentionally makes a convincing argument that how we treat our most desirable says volumes about our own morality.
Looking through the book, I am struck by my own attitudes towards breasts. I have always liked breasts and when I was younger I was completely bewildered when other men said they liked legs, eyes or asses. I agree with Dian that the fact that Americans don’t have a casually topless culture has made us obsessive about them. Nipples are always hidden away while breasts can only be hinted at. This makes breasts more important than they probably are, but damn it, it’s hard to shake off the primitive response I have every time I see a beautiful chest. As an adult I and as a dom, most of the the qualities I look for in a woman are mental, but I can’t deny the subliminal breast admiring part of my being. It’s an instant tug on my libido, a message of abundance and femininity that short cuts the logic parts of my brain and whispers directly to my carnal desires. I feel like I am programmed to melt in the presence of D cups, and a book like this pushes that pleasure button over and over again.